Solaris (Andrei Tarkovsky)

Kelvin and Hari.

Considered by Andrei Tarkovsky to be the least favorite film that he has ever directed and is also lowly regarded by the source novel's author (Stanislaw Lem), "Solaris" is not quite the cinematic darling before than it was today. And if that is quite the case, that even the director himself is not that keen on singing praises about his own work, then who are we to like it more than the one who created it? But then I suddenly remember that I liked "The Virgin Spring" immensely: the film that Ingmar Bergman himself has also considered to be one of his weakest works. And damn, we all love "The Seventh Seal", a film that Bergman has labeled as nothing more than a 'lousy imitation' of Akira Kurosawa. Perhaps to really be a great artist, one must have an adequate dose of insecurity, because if one does not have any, then how can that artist properly discourse on the weakness of man (a most favorite topic to tackle among great filmmakers)? 

     

In this film's case, Tarkovsky himself, knowing that "Solaris" has not been powerful enough to transcend the science fiction genre, reflects what the film itself is all about: that man can never reach an ambiguous goal because it is something that he 'fears and doesn't want'; that man, whatever knowledge he may have, is but a minuscule detail in the whole thick of the universe, and that man, as he seeks intelligence, creates more confusion in the process. 

     

There has always been this preconceived notion that the vastness of space is indeed something that 'we can't fully understand'. But what if it's the one that wants to understand us? And what if it's just us who can't really comprehend ourselves? These are such questions raised by "Solaris", a masterful interstellar drama that tries to expound on the mysteries of the great beyond and, subsequently, of our very soul. What results is, bar none, one of the most emotionally articulate science fiction films ever conceived and also one of the most inquisitive.

     

The film's plot, perhaps the most linear and derivative of all Tarkovsky films, concerns a psychologist, named Kris Kelvin (Donatas Banionis), and his mission to find out what's really going on in a space station orbiting a mysterious oceanic planet. When he arrived, he found the crew emotionally disheveled, extremely worrisome and jumpy beyond belief. And to add to that, his already dead wife, Hari (Natalya Bondarchuk), has suddenly materialized back into life. What's really going on?

     

Tarkovsky, a filmmaker who we all know is careful not to be limited by the mechanics of a specific genre, makes it sure that expository dialogue and special effects are kept at a minimum. In addition, his pacing is as deliberate as it can be. After all, he never went to space to visually showboat, to tell a lightning-fast story or to discuss mere technology; he's there to philosophize about humanity. 

     

Just like his later, very companion-y "Stalker", "Solaris" also operates under its own set of cerebral, emotional and physical rules. It's also less concerned on explaining things just like how a magician is never inclined on revealing the secrets of his trade. Mysterious plot devices, such as the 'Annihilator', are mentioned but not fully expounded upon. Characters' inner landscapes are further explored but never explained why. There's also a recurring sense of futility in the characters' numerous philosophical clashes. In the end, something may have been ostensibly resolved, but surely at a bitter cost. 

     

Andrei Tarkovsky, however challenging his works may be, is in fact a subtly didactic and optimistic filmmaker. Deeply submerged in existential despair his films may sometimes be, Tarkovsky never forgets to insert the idea that man can be better off if only he can know his limitations; if only he can be less grandiose in his ambitions; if only he can be aware of the fact that man only needs man. 

     

"Solaris", aside from being a meditative psychological drama, is also a timeless parable on humility. We've always been deluded by the idea that we're not alone in this universe and that, ultimately, we can make first contact with whoever they are or whatever it is. But as what this film suggests, such intention to see and know too much negates the very essence of existence itself.

FINAL RATING

The Master (Paul Thomas Anderson)

The master and the mastered.

Many have been said regarding "The Master's" conspicuous allusions to L. Ron Hubbard and his church of Scientology, especially in how 'The Cause', the fictional religious group in the film, uncannily mirrors the said religion's intricate (but ultimately questionable) teachings. But after my first viewing of the film, I can really say that "The Master" is so much more than a quasi-satirical take on a controversial religion. More importantly, it is notable to mention that the film, amid its weird psychoanalytic vibe, is a piece brewing with enthralling character dynamics that are as involving as they are alienating, realized to utmost perfection by Joaquin Phoenix, Philip Seymour Hoffman and Amy Adams in what may be the best acting ensemble of 2012.

     

Fresh from his mock acting piece (chronicled in the Casey Affleck-directed film "I'm Still Here") which involves a Zach Galifianakis-like beard and some hip-hop music, Joaquin Phoenix, in one of 2012's best performances bar no role specifications, returns with a vengeance as the disturbed naval veteran Freddie Quell. A quintessential image of a wasted wanderer, Freddie does not know what to do or where to go next after a suggestively traumatic experience during the Second World War. But unexpectedly, one night after randomly boarding a yacht, he meets Lancaster Dodd, the multi-faceted leader of 'The Cause', who has developed an instant liking to Freddie's personality and, more specifically, to his paint thinner-infused booze. Slowly, they develop an erratic and openly psychoanalytic relationship that has also made an instant believer out of Freddie, even when Lancaster, as even what his own son has hypothesized, is merely making up the numerous doctrines of his religion as he goes along.

     

By fully imposing this complexly well-weaved relationship all throughout the film, Paul Thomas Anderson was able to make up for "The Master's" lack of narrative drive, and in that aspect, he has succeeded. But truth be told, "The Master" is no "There Will Be Blood", or does it even come close to being something akin to it. With quite a lack of thematic cohesion and a sense of narrative direction, "The Master", after a promising first half, falters both in power and energy in the second half, which leaves me very disappointed to say the least, especially considering the fact that this is my most anticipated film of 2012. Just like Joaquin Phoenix's character in the film, Paul Thomas Anderson appears to be quite lost, and it reflects in the film as it goes along, with both positive and negative repercussions.

     

In a way, being thematically directionless as a filmmaker adds to the overall mood and visual language of a film, and with "The Master", PTA's seemingly aimless psychological and science fiction-like philosophical jabbering is a great plus. But on the other hand, it's also the very same aspect that has squeezed out the film's strengths dry, until it reaches a conclusion that's characterized with a sort of hastened optimism.

     

For the record, he has never been this abstract since "Punch-Drunk Love", but also for the record, he has never been this optimistic, character development-wise, since, well, "Boogie Nights". But thanks to the film's stoic and sometimes emotionless imagery and its mercurial musical scoring that range from the relaxing to the downright unsettling, "The Master" was able to achieve a thoroughly frightening psychological undercurrent despite the fact that the film, after all, is heading towards a quite reassuring finale. Ultimately, the film, at least from where I see it, is all about the mystifying but deeply harmonizing relationship between man and religion. Unexpectedly, "The Master" has turned out to be more than just a brooding character study of a man lost between the harshness of his own reality and the emotional retreat that the so-called 'opiate of the masses' can offer; it is, after all, a quite comforting film that confronts religious cynicism and looks at it straight in the eye with the confidence of a newly reformed man.

     

In a way, "The Master" is a subtle criticism to those who criticize the truth to a particular religion, and for a seemingly cynical filmmaker like Paul Thomas Anderson, it is a truly welcoming sight. Now, I may sound stupid, but "The Master", with its insightful look at the interconnectedness of religion, psychology and sexuality, seems to remind me of a specific, Mormon-centric "South Park" episode entitled, well, "All About Mormons". In it, a kind-hearted Mormon boy named Gary, after hearing so much crap from Stan and his inquisitive statements regarding the veracity of Mormonism, suddenly manned up and delivered a most profound litany that is both a response to Stan and an address to us all: "Look, maybe us Mormons do believe in crazy stories that make absolutely no sense, and maybe Joseph Smith did make it all up, but I have a great life, and a great family, and I have the Book of Mormon to thank for that."

      

That quote, for me, is the essence of "The Master", specifically in the context of Freddie's emotional and psychological development. Yes, perhaps, my analysis of the film may be a tad too optimistic for some, but that's how I have made out the film. After sifting through much of my thoughts while writing this review, I still do think that I have arrived at a very justifiable conclusion. "The Master", in many ways, is a celebratory probe into the ever-changing nature of the human person. The only catch is that it doesn't look and feel like one.

FINAL RATING

A Dangerous Method (David Cronenberg)

Freud, Spielrein and Jung.

Here in "A Dangerous Method", David Cronenberg dips his fingers into the realm of Analytical Psychology. Directing this film with two of the founders of psychoanalysis, Carl Jung and Sigmund Freud, as the chief characters, Cronenberg, one of the most visually audacious filmmakers out there, is surprisingly mellow and at ease with reality here, add to the fact that "A Dangerous Method" is a historical period piece which follows a true story very closely.

But that does not mean that he won't play with some peculiar stuff here. Being a director of this film but at the same time also a keen observer of the entire psychological unraveling wrapped in its very debauched innards, Cronenberg covers various truly unspeakable things in the film but is utterly dignified while doing it as he navigates through every scene with a gentle demeanor. Of course, the fact that Jung and Freud, both blessed with the utter characteristics of the perfect gentleman, are the main players in this film has helped to make the film externally pristine as they walk through the equally elegant backdrops of Vienna and Zurich.

But, as they say, looks can be very deceiving.

With Carl Jung and Sigmund Freud being successfully played by great contemporary actors Michael Fassbender and Viggo Mortensen (who has made his third film now with David Cronenberg) just like two genuine intellectuals wasting their days through the dissections of the human mind, it can be said that the very 'psychiatric' subject matter of the whole film should have stayed where it should have been: in Psychology 101 classes. Though at some points that's particularly agreeable, especially when the film seemingly begins to be too 'lecture-y' in its tone, specifically when Jung and Freud start to talk in a language that is too abstract outside of their field, the film still has managed to be truly riveting at some points.

Some of those said 'points' can be traced back to Sabrina Spielrein, played by Keira Knightley who just might have been robbed of an Academy Award nomination, and the brief but penetrating presence of Otto Gross, played by Vincent Cassel who has now made his second film with Cronenberg following "Eastern Promises".

Sabina, a hysterical young woman aspiring to be a psychoanalyst who's under the analytic care of Carl Jung, may initially look as if she's a lost cause, but knowing how she became a professional child psychologist after the events in this film while also changing the lives and the very field of both Carl Jung and Sigmund Freud, the more that her utterances in this film increasingly become more and more fascinating as it goes.

While Otto Gross, the man responsible for goading Carl Jung's little 'experimentation' with the darker possibilities of sexual exploration via the deprived Sabina, is Jung's patient who believes that the thing we call 'maturity' is what he calls a mere 'parameter' that hinders people to achieve complete sexual fulfillment, among others.

Jung, initially introduced by the film as a seemingly stern man made almost invulnerable by the flaws of the mind, is surprisingly easily persuaded to try out Gross' view of sexuality. Cassel, a great French actor tailor-made for these kinds of edgy roles, is effortless as the subtly manipulative and magnetic Otto Gross as he delivers, in semi-cryptic utterances, his very own sets of sexual beliefs while greatly highlighting a tone of 'if you don't want to listen to me, it's okay' passivity.

Throughout the film, I can't really say if Fassbender and Mortensen, as great as they are as individual actors, both have made a truly cohesive chemistry in the film. Sure, their presences alone made this film worth the watch, but there's an underlying flaw that runs through the film's veins that speaks of forced character dynamics. Though some scenes between them gives the film its needed tension, especially in the scenes when they both exchange scathing yet formal letters as their professional and personal relationship dwindles into oblivion because of contradicting ideas and a terrible secret, I would have preferred if the film has been a bit longer. In that way, I believe the film could have developed the relationships better and also would have given way for more thematic exposition.

"Only the clash of destructive forces can create something new". At the time quite a revolutionary insight, Sabina, with those words, might have just also prophesized Carl Jung and Sigmund Freud's relationship. Cronenberg, now more than ever playing with words both conversational and philosophical in nature, has managed to throw into the air various intriguing ideas but was quite unsure of what he wants to do with all of it.

But in the end, I believe that the whole film, although it has dwelled within the deterioration of Jung and Freud's closeness both as a mentor to an heir and as a friend to a friend, comes down more strictly as Carl Jung's story viewed from the perspective of the grim reaper looking at the aftermath of a man who may have stumbled upon a great intellectual discovery but is internally destroyed by uncontrollable impulses and made weak by guilt as he drifts away in silently fractured contemplation, burdened by the visions of the apocalypse; of thousands of corpses bathing in the blood of Europe; of the First World War.

FINAL RATING

Corazon: Ang Unang Aswang (Richard Somes)

What immediately caught my attention regarding "Corazon" was the fact that it dared to tell a wholly original story within the fairly drought-laden lands of the local horror genre. With that alone, I think that that's a considerably tall order to do, but surprisingly, "Corazon", although flawed, is effectively unique in reminding the said genre the unbounded strength of utter originality. Give major credit to director Richard Somes, the man behind the terrifyingly melodramatic "Yanggaw", who has infused this film with enough guts, dramatic bravado and twisted soul.

In his interview, Richard Somes stated that with "Corazon", he has created a sort of origin story that will back up the whole "Aswang" lore that he has lovingly used in his films. For that matter, with this film, I think that he has embraced and contradicted his statement at the same time; embraced because, as we can all see, "Corazon" is a well-weaved (if not too melodramatic) tale that can really pass us a potent origin tale. But on the other hand, it is a contradiction because, at the end of the film, he has realistically told the tale of 'how' it might have been but he never convincingly stated as to how this could pass as a real 'Aswang' story in the first place.

"Corazon", stripped off of all the folklorian associations, is more a dark psychological film rather than a red-blooded creature feature. With its narrative that immediately connects the whole film's nightmarish ordeal with the hellish Japanese occupation (the film is, after all, a post-Second World War period piece), the paranoia of social discrimination and the flaws of an unguided devotion towards an abstract God, it's quite easy to surmise, through those key ideas, that "Corazon" is more of a sociocultural exploration of the so-called "Aswang" mythos rather than a strictly supernatural one. "Corazon" is your type of "Aswang" film that treads not the 'garlic' surface of it all, but the darker recesses of human frustration and perversion that may 'realistically' lead to something akin to a monstrous metamorphosis.

In terms of the film's whole tone, "Corazon" is sadly less atmospheric than the earlier "Yanggaw", though both boast of beautiful cinematography. And also, "Corazon", with its veritable approach to the "Aswang" lore, is arguably more prone to unintentional comedy. For more supernaturally-oriented films of the same kind, kinetically fast-paced motions of the said creatures are, more or less, understandable. But in "Corazon", with the titular character, a shy young woman, suddenly going quick in his feet as he succumb into a form akin to a monstrous stalker (specifically of children) merely because of a psychological lapse, such rapid change in both behavior and physicality is, I'm afraid to say this, quite laughable in some ways (with the audience's half-serious reaction in the theater that I've watched it in as my witness). Narrative-wise, it is excusable because although how realistic the approach may be, in the end we are still talking about garlic-fearing monsters here. But in terms of character transformation, this treatment to Corazon, from a suppressed woman to a monstrous murdering specimen without even a hint of supernatural intervention, just isn't believable.

But then again, maybe this lack of believability may have rooted from the choice of actress, which completely opposes the back story of Corazon herself. Erich Gonzales, playing the role of Corazon, is beautifully enigmatic and emotionally fragile. But this enigma and fragility is, more or less, leaning more towards the perennially 'Maria Clara'-type, not the 'reformed former prostitute who catered to Japanese soldier' kind. On the other hand, Derek Ramsay's Manuel, Corazon's husband, is a bit one-dimensional (I think the scenes of him holding his knife outweigh those which he does not) but also had his fair share of good moments. While the whole community in the film, however, that which includes the characters played by Mon Confiado and Epi Quizon, was reduced into nothing but a cinematic stereotype whose basic traits include bullying the resident mental case (Tetchie Agbayani) and discoursing about plagues and overall doom by way of their contemplative old-timers.

In its entirety, "Corazon", with its subtitle "Ang Unang Aswang", supernaturally speaking, never really proved to be a convincing origin story or a prequel that can support the events that has transpired in such films as "Yanggaw" or the overall notion as to how these most feared creatures, at least here in the Philippines, came to be. What "Corazon" has done, instead of delivering the immediate epistemology of our local boogeymen, has tackled the so-called origins of 'Aswangs' through sociocultural eyes, with the very 'origin' itself leading not to the exposition of the supernatural creatures' 'humble' beginnings but to the creation of our most primal of fears towards the unexplainable.

Every peculiar sound in our tin roofs, every weird sound in the woods and every howling dog deep within the night, there's this unconscious instinct within us all that immediately associate them to these carnivorously supernatural creatures of the night. "Corazon" strongly suggests a fictitiously alternative reason as to why we do.

FINAL RATING

Midnight in Paris (Woody Allen)

A stroll.

Woody Allen, which we all know to be a truly psychological and philosophical filmmaker as well as a humorously cerebral director, an aspect of his being that collects much admirers as well as some haters, completely shines through in yet again a film of unique charm, intelligence, wit and imagination set in a city where beauty and mystique converges into one: Paris.

Although it stars Owen Wilson (alongside impressive supporting performances by Michael Sheen, Rachel McAdams and Marion Cotillard among others) as Gil, a character who seemingly treats his flirtation with the idea of premature infidelity (his character is just about to be married) merely as an exercise in curiosity by way of an unexpected trip into his 'Golden Age' subconscious (in 1920's Paris where he met countless demigods of art and literature), which as a result came out to be quite harmless and at the same time maintained naivete in its depiction of a brief psycho-sexual adventurism, the character still could have been played by a younger Woody Allen. Often times, I can even see Owen Wilson channeling Allen himself.

I believe that although this film could have been done in Woody Allen's cinematic heydays (maybe in mid-70's to early 80's) and still be as effective as it was today, "Midnight in Paris" nevertheless still stimulated my hidden cravings for new ideas and moved me with its gentle approach regarding the ideas of artistic confusion, romantic crossroads and the subsequent individual growth by way of traveling into a subjectively ideal past.

In the hands of a purely narrative-driven filmmaker, "Midnight in Paris" could have been a try-hard romantic/fantasy film with the hero torn between living his love and life in the present and reliving a past he quickly learns to love. But just like, say, Harold Ramis' "Groundhog Day", this film is too busy with its brilliant articulation of its fresh idea that tackles the paradox of insecurity, shown here in the form of "The Golden Age" mentality, which beholds the idea that it's a human tendency to hope, reminisce and visualize for a more ideal moment in time where everything's akin to an artistic and literary utopia, that the film isn't shallow enough to conceptualize a too far-fetched an explanation as to why Owen Wilson's character travels back into his personal 'Golden Age' every midnight.

For Allen, it's the characters that speak for the film itself. All we know, Owen Wilson's character is too exhausted with the overly urban and inch-deep intellectual exercises of working as a movie scriptwriter that he dares to internally lash out. All we know, he wants 1920's Paris, write pure novel, and walk in the rain more than anything else. Woody Allen injected these subtle characteristics on the Owen Wilson character to serve as simple catalysts for the film's turn of events and nothing more. No flashy time-travel nonsense, no unnecessary plot devices and no silly folklorian justifications as to why these historical jumps were possible.

Instead, the film's seemingly esoteric tone puts itself into a separate plain of romanticized existence; an alternative landscape where impenetrable icons like Dali, Picasso, Hemingway and Fitzgerald adhere into a single route of interconnected existence, where one may bump into the other, or where a man may travel back in time, develop romance with a charming lady, travel back into the present the next night and then see a memoir with his name mentioned all over the pages in romantic adoration, penned by the very same lady almost 90 years ago.

It is things like these, although devoid of any logical explanations, that can really put a genuine smile into your face. And it is films like "Midnight in Paris" that can really restore your faith in the hidden capabilities and the wonderful complexities that the romantic comedy genre can offer and conceive. I can only thank Woody Allen for that.

FINAL RATING

Monster (Patty Jenkins)

Charlize Theron in an Oscar-winning performance as serial killer Aileen Wuornos.

What make serial killers seem to be subjects of mystery and perplex are the constant speculations and certain inconsistencies as to how painful and deeply scarred their pasts really were to justify and serve as valid arguments as to why they have done their atrocious deeds. What made Ted Bundy rape and kill? What triggered John Wayne Gacy to don that creepy clown costume, take on that 'Pogo' persona and do the same? This particularly distances Aileen Wuornos (at least on how the film has portrayed her and her motivational catalyst to kill) from such human abominations.

There's never an abnormal impulse within her to murder save for her desperation and for survival. Here's a real-life killer and high-way prostitute whose casualties are not the result of psychological distortions but of a mind rendered numb not mainly by a traumatic past (her being raped by a family friend and countless other instances) but by its concentrated manifestation into the present. At some point, I even see the cinematic Aileen Wuornos as some sort of an unknowing vigilante that only kills those who deserve it and, in the bitter end, if only it's circumstantially necessary.

"Monster", of course not considered as a straight-laced biopic, is part-stigmatic romance and part-road film but overall an engrossing drama of a woman's internal conflict hopelessly and helplessly taken to the extremes. This merge of meager sub-genres is, without a doubt, heightened at every pace by Charlize Theron's legendary performance as Aileen Wuornos, although I really think that it fully transcends the simple concept of the term 'performance'.

There were leading portrayals in many biopics that whatever make-up you put unto the actor's/actress' face, no matter how much characteristic emulations bordering impersonation they may take on, they simply cannot work for the sole reason that you can easily see what's under those biographical skins and how they were more an exercise of a star's outer acting range rather than a deeply felt performance piece.

For Charlize, there's a sense of bitter, almost teary-eyed urgency in her Aileen Wuornos, and an obscure side that she's more than eager to tell. Along with her disturbing but incredibly human portrayal of Aileen Wuornos, it's understandable to put a younger and more naive fictionalized lover on her side in the form of Selby Wall (Christina Ricci in a powerfully understated role) to really add some more weight to Aileen's motivations for money and a clear-cut reason for her to thrive on living. There were these poignantly sad scenes where Aileen Wuornos, determined to lead a normal life and quit a lifetime of hooking, awkwardly set on to apply for jobs she's less than under-qualified to pursue.

From these we see her potential for a legitimate social existence, and also from these, backed by her narration that tells of the flowery words about success that she has heard from a known band's drummer when she was 13 years old, we see and hear her simultaneous concession to the fact that life is not always about chasing dreams and all that 'rich' and 'famous' bullshit but is in fact, quite simply, just bullshit, and 'prostitution' is at its very tip.

A film beautifully photographed by Steven Bernstein and written and directed by Patty Jenkins with sheer but not overly biased empathy, "Monster" destroys the claim that apathy and nihilism are the only thing that runs through someone like Aileen's mind; sometimes, in her case, it's an act to lash out against an unforgiving social state that just sadly and uncontrollably went too far, which leads us to the film's very title, "Monster".

Is it pertaining to Aileen herself, to the outer forces that have abnormally molded her to what she has become, or a combination of both? I very much prefer it to pertain to the Ferris wheel that she has repeatedly mentioned throughout the film. An emotional retreat and a rare innocent slate of her existence. Let's let her have that.

P.S. A perfect companion piece to Kimberly Peirce's equally great "Boys Don't Cry".

FINAL RATING

Antichrist (Lars von Trier)

'He' and a 'Hailstorm'.

"Antichrist" is, beyond Lars von Trier's titular allusion to religion, a harsh, denigrating and sadomasochistic exploration of the psycho-sexual landscape. At certain points, as far as descriptive cliches are concerned, this film is like a combination of Raimi's solitary horror (as displayed in "Evil Dead") and some gutsy bits of de Sade. It's relentless in its graphic nature, uninhibited in its sexuality, yet particularly hopeful in its catharsis.

Lars von Trier, who recently stated that he'll never make another film with a happy ending, convincingly pulled off a satisfying conclusion to such a crazy, debauchery-filled film such as "Antichrist". It's Dante's Inferno all over again, filled with ambiguously disturbing psychological insights that may not translate well into reality (it's a bizarre fantasy, after all), but still a balanced approach to human nature's unpredictability.

The film opened with a slow-motion, black-and-white, 'perfume commercial'-like sequence of 'He' and 'She's' lovemaking. Unbeknown to them, their infant son is already climbing into a table and reaching into a window. The child then accidentally falls into his death. Through this ironic juxtaposition, von Trier has captured it with a sense of hypocritical artistry. As 'He' and 'She' are engaging in a charged, 'not-a-care-in-the-world' intercourse, it was accompanied by a beautiful heavenly music. While on the other hand, 'death' is happening in the other room, with the child symbolically shoving the figures of the three beggars (representing 'grief', 'pain', and 'despair') atop the table down to the floor.

The lack of care was highlighted as the two characters' sexual vigor completely engulfs their care for their child. Is it a pitiful tragedy on their part or not? For 'She', it was unbearable, so the couple went into their cabin in the woods for some reflection and, hopefully, to cleanse off the tragic residues and heal emotional wounds.

With the main 'woods' setting simply labeled as "Eden", and the two characters solely called as 'He' and 'She' (Willem Dafoe and Charlotte Gainsbourg in such unrestricted performances), von Trier is seemingly up to no good. With too many thematic possibilities out there to tread, he chose to mercilessly destroy the idea of the thousand-year parable of "Genesis". But in the film's context, it's not the fruit that has turned the two characters into sinners but the raw fragility of the mind. He (von Trier) snobs the cliches that 'dreams' are the catalysts of psychology and goes straight into abstraction; he blended reality with the subconscious materialization of the psyche, resulting in a bluntly caustic depiction of a gender-dictated netherworld of phobias and fantasies that even went into the extremes of gynocidal fanaticism.

"Antichrist" is not your typical 'horror' film or 'psychological thriller' (IMDb being clever and knowing enough not to label it as 'horror'), it's way more than that. At certain moments, it even tackled the pathetic consequences of misled fatalism. The film is such a thematically layered piece of auteur work that just happens to be masquerading as a show-off of 'shock-a-minute' senselessness.

"Antichrist" is never biblical nor a religious challenge to the higher echelons of Christianity. And though admittedly blasphemous at times, it never ridicules the idea of it. Von Trier and his film is too consummately drawn into the powerful magnet of dark psychological stirs and its toll on the rationality of man that it dared not to look back.

To the detractors, you may ask, "why is this film even in contention to win the Palme d'Or in 2009?" To be honest, upon my initial look into this film, I also asked myself the same. But after looking thoroughly deep enough into what this film has got to say, the question has since faded. "Antichrist" is truly gut-churning as it is an exercise of strange cinematic eloquence.

FINAL RATING

Black Swan (Darren Aronofsky)

The Swan Lake acid.

After his masterpiece "The Wrestler", Darren Aronofsky, arguably the best director working today, had, in some ways, combined the paranoiac overtones of "Pi" and the relentless nerve-wrecking style of "Requiem for a Dream" to create "Black Swan", an unsettling film experience exploring the dark psycho-sexual journey of a woman consumed by theater and sexual repression.

Now we've all seen the more abhorring side behind the theater curtains via Joseph Mankiewicz's "All About Eve", a classic film about ambition and fame and the unthinkable ways one would do just to attain them. But "Black Swan" departed itself from the common direction of being a thematic typecast, tackling instead the individualistic theme about a person's self-triggered cerebral destruction (and inner metamorphosis) heightened and brought to the extremes by the clamor for stage perfection. Natalie Portman looked right as Nina, a consummate ballerina seemingly ideal for the part of the Swan Queen but lacking the inner motivations of emotionally letting go to suit it.

Though her physique is naturally thin, Ms. Portman's embodiment of a ballet dancer's body (resembling an alarming look of the pre-anorexic stage) was very impressive. She also did great on the acting department, maintaining a certain look of naivety and disorientation to put a perfect contrast to her numerous dances that require every facial expressions but that. Vincent Cassel of the "Irreversible" fame (more like infamy) was outstanding as the stage director, and Mila Kunis, aside from being almost visually perfect, was also good as that 'other' Swan Queen aspirant that was also the non-existent cause of Nina's jealousy, mania and desire.

We always hear about the line "Life imitates Art" and vice-versa, but "Black Swan", chillingly enhanced by the atmospheric Clint Mansell score, takes us through the downside territories of that famous phrase back and forth, puts us through excruciating mind trips, until it places us into an abstract perspective of the two being one and the same. Forget about theatrical choreography and appropriate movements. When the grayish psyche finally interferes, nothing, even the alluring bright lights of the center stage, would really matter and perpetual distortion as constant reality will surely take over.

FINAL RATING