Amour (Michael Haneke)

Love.

Love stories on films are meant to make us feel a sense of sweetness within. Be it through chance encounters, tender reconciliations or mutual affections that extend through time, romance films are those extra sugar cubes that sweeten the occasional bitterness in our lives. But what if a film suddenly enters our collective consciousness, dare proclaiming that love, after all, is not really all about flowers and chocolates but, in its very essence, all about pain? "Amour", a most devastating film by Michael Haneke, may just be that very film, and trust me, if this won't add a much-needed depth to your outlook on love, then I believe nothing will. 

     

Although I sure do think, without a single doubt in my mind, that "Amour" is one of the absolute best films of the year (if not the very best), the film's style and execution, especially in its lack of musical scoring and often stagnant shots, may surely off-put some viewers. But for some who consider silence and subtlety as two of the most powerful tools in conveying emotions and whatnot, then "Amour" will surely impress. 

     

With two French screen legends in the form of Jean-Louis Trintignant and Emmanuelle Riva (with Isabelle Huppert on the side) joining emotional forces to tell us a tale that may very well be the most truthful love story there is, "Amour" has managed to be unforgettably tender and powerfully disquieting at the same time. With no formal narrative to guide the film save for the elderly couple's (played by Trintignant and Riva) confined everyday lives, "Amour" is that rare kind of film that gets its strength not from the plot basics but from the very essence of the characters that inhabit it, and we only have the aforementioned screen legends to thank for it. 

     

Trintignant, who I have first set my eyes upon (and loved) in Bernardo Bertolucci's "The Conformist", is honest, understated and very romantically proud as Georges, a retired music teacher who is suddenly faced with the biggest challenge of love when Anne (Riva), her wife, was suddenly rendered half-paralyzed by a surgery gone wrong. 

     

As naturally effortless as he is overwhelmingly moving, Trintignant's Georges goes through the debilitating burden of taking care of his ill-stricken spouse with a mountainous sense of dignity and individualism. Although Haneke has molded the character with an inscrutable sense of pride, we are nevertheless drawn to painfully empathize with his situation because it's all too real and also because, at one point or another, we'll just be like him. I, for one, slightly know how he feels. My great grandmother, in her dying days, was exactly just like Anne, and I had the privilege to take care of her through two sleepless nights.  

     

This therefore brings me to Emmanuelle Riva's unbelievably realistic performance as Georges' better half. Yes, Emmanuelle Riva, the very same, conflicted woman in "Hiroshima Mon Amour" whose beauty contrasts the said film's tumultuous romantic themes, now bedridden and merely speaking in tongues. As much as "Amour" is an honest evocation of the final frontiers of love, it's also a film that's knee-deep in demythologization, specifically in how Michael Haneke has reduced an immortal screen beauty like Emmanuelle Riva into nothing more than an old, dying woman pitifully confined within the four corners of a reclining bed. Riva's portrayal of Anne, for me, is not really a performance per se but more a bitter confrontation of both reality and mortality, and it's just quite stunning to behold. 

     

"Amour", Michael Haneke's most personal film (the events in "Amour" is based on his first-hand experiences of dealing with his disease-stricken aunt) and may also be the most truthful one in relation to who he really is as a filmmaker, is a clear-cut masterpiece. Once known for his violently polarizing films, Haneke has now made a film so romantically powerful that it makes you forget that the film, after all, stars two elderly people. 

     

Admittedly, there will come a point in our lives where we'll go all apprehensive about growing old and whether or not the hands we're holding on right now, as the best years of our lives slowly fade away, will still hold on tight. "Amour", a film that proves unto me that there will always be beauty in subtlety, reassures me that, yes, they definitely will. Faith in love: quite restored.

FINAL RATING

Beasts of the Southern Wild (Benh Zeitlin)

Hushpuppy.

As far as back as I can remember, there's always that one 'Sundance' film that gets a token Oscar nod for 'Best Picture' every year. But naturally, it usually does not have any chance of winning despite the fact that it is often far superior to half of its competition. For me, that's the Oscars subtly telling the independent film scene that "that's as far as you can go". Such is the case for "Beasts of the Southern Wild", a quasi-fantasy, coming-of-age film that really isn't (based on the stage play "Juicy and Delicious" by Lucy Alibar). 

     

With some sheds of "Pan's Labyrinth" in how it has seamlessly enjoined both fantasy and reality in a single continuum, the film is certainly quite refreshing and original. Being a film that's really quite hard to describe, just imagine this: What if a less cynical Werner Herzog and a less abstract Terrence Malick decide to team up and co-direct a children's film? Can you picture it? It's with a kind of profound narration and transcendental music, right? Yeah, that's pretty much how "Beasts of the Southern Wild" looks and feels like. 

     

For a film whose visuals rely heavily on images of poverty and semi-submerged squalor, "Beasts of the Southern Wilds" surprisingly lacks any embedded social messages. Instead, what the film has done is substitute a potentially pedestrian tackling of poverty with a completely unique exploration of innocence and pride that's finely fitted within an engrossing, quasi-magical atmosphere. 

     

Throughout the film, there's a relatively fascinating establishment of the return of the aurochs, an ancient group of giant wild boars that has lived millions of years ago, presumably for a kind of reckoning. But to first set the record straight, aurochs are actually direct ancestors of the modern cattle and not of wild boars, which is quite puzzling to me as to why the makers of the film did not fully rename the creature instead. But at this point, we do not care anymore because one, the film is utterly justified in this aspect because it is structured within a reality of its own, and two, because the film has a far more important angle to cover, and that is the roller coaster relationship between Hushpuppy (Quvenzhané Wallis) and his hot-headed father Wink (Dwight Henry). 

     

Together, both characters, thanks to Benh Zietlin's involving direction and both actors' heart-aching performances (Dwight Henry should have received an Oscar nod for Best Supporting Actor. Am I asking for too much?), dance in the rhythm of great dramatic chemistry without really trying hard to do so, all while the film's more fantastical nature unravels quite masterfully on the side. But then again, the very same 'fantasy elements' that have been laid down piece by piece with such care is the very same aspect that has quite disappointed me. For a person who has expected an equal distribution of both fantasy and reality, I ended up asking for more from the former. But if you come to think of it, the presence of the aurochs in the film is never intended to be quite literal just like how Aslan in the "Chronicles of Narnia" is. What it actually is, at least in my view, is a mountainously symbolic representation of Hushpuppy's ultimate 'test' before she can actually, as what the plot summary states, 'learn the way of courage and love', and it's quite effective because it gives the film a heightened sense of mythological resonance. 

     

"Beasts of the Southern Wild", an uncommon film of visual and thematic grace, is forged out of a unique cinematic spirit and genuine human warmth. The people of Baththub (that's what the film's water-surrounded town is called), although burdened by their difficult and relatively uncivilized way of life and are constantly being antagonized by welfare workers trying to get them out of there, is certainly a proud lot, and Hushpuppy, a girl that knows and feels more than the average kid, is slowly learning that pride, after all, is not that of a bad thing. While Wink, his father, has learned that crying is not a sign of emasculation but a vital proof of life. Indeed, the characters have learned something throughout the course of the film, and so have I.

FINAL RATING

 

Les Misérables (Tom Hooper)

Cosette.

Certainly the most visually stunning film of the year, "Les Misérables" is no doubt a musical picture of epic proportions that's passionately held together by numerous powerful performances. Running close to 3 hours, the film is indeed a cinematic dream come true for musical fans, but may also prove to be quite an extensive chore to watch for non-musical lovers. In a way, the song numbers may often tend to delay the film's otherwise smooth narrative progression, which is truly a proof of how musicals are more focused on prioritizing moods, emotions and internal turbulence rather than the stories themselves. As a song number ends and another one begins, I can't help but notice the audience's numerous laughs of disbelief as they uncomfortably twitch and readjust in their seats. "Les Misérables", despite its all-star cast and visual spectacle, is indeed not for everyone. But nonetheless, it's still powerful stuff, with Anne Hathaway and Hugh Jackman leading the way. 

     

Peter Greenaway, a visionary independent filmmaker, has once suggested that film adaptations (specifically Jane Austen's) are nothing but wastes of time. This statement may prove to be quite apt to this recent cinematic incarnation of "Les Misérables", but there's something in this Tom Hooper-directed version that is just quite transcendent to behold. One of them, quite naturally, is the performances, which were all elevated by a sense of both larger-than-life romanticism and subtle humanity. But the one who has really moved me close to tears is Anne Hathaway's performance as Fantine. Enhanced by the film's stylistic preference of capturing the song numbers in stark close-up shots (quite reminiscent of Carl Theodor Dreyer's "The Passion of Joan of Arc") rather than in flowing camera movements, Ms. Hathaway has delivered what may be the best performance of the year and the greatest of her career so far. Honestly, her rendition of "I Dreamed a Dream" is just so emotionally perfect and devastatingly heart-breaking that even at this very moment while writing this review, I'm still having some goose bumps. With echoes of Maria Falconetti in her performance, Anne Hathaway, despite her short screen time, has proven that although Jean Valjean's (Hugh Jackman) path to redemption is the real focus of "Les Misérables", it was her Fantine that is the anchoring soul of the film. I'm not exaggerating here or anything, but I do think that Anne Hathaway's "I Dreamed a Dream" scene is already worth the price of admission alone. 

     

But as expected, Hugh Jackman, whose resume boasts of a Tony award, is also pitch perfect in the role of Jean Valjean, who's just effortless in his embodiment of the character's rapid emotional transitions, usually from emotional fury to silent gentility and then back again. But let's not also forget Russell Crowe in the very complex role of Javert, who is very believable in his portrayal of the said character's adherence to both blind justice and pure conviction. Although his voice, as what other people complain about, quite lacks the power and range needed for such a crucial character, his facial expressions and imposing presence more than makes up for it. There's also the film's sleeper performance in the form of Samantha Barks' Eponine, who just shined in the role, especially in her "On My Own" number. On the other hand, Sacha Baron Cohen and Helena Bonham Carter, although in their usual element, never quite did it for me because, well, they're just too humorously ho-hum in their roles. 

     

Admittedly, "Les Misérables" is a film that's quite dated in its themes and very derivative in its revolutionary spirit. But nonetheless, it was still able to connect with me on a very nationalistic level specifically because of its numerous parallels with Jose Rizal's (Philippines' National Hero) "Noli Me Tangere" and "El Filibusterismo". As the film reaches its final crescendo and as the screen goes to black, it's as if I've watched an actual West End production, but this time with all of "Les Misérables'" 'sound and fury' magnified a hundredfold. "Les Misérables", an emotionally overwhelming musical film, is a textbook example of how stunning the marriage of stage and film can be when done right.

FINAL RATING

Argo (Ben Affleck)

Rescue 101: The Hollywood Way.

First, he won an Oscar for Best Original Screenplay. And then, he went on to direct a fine adaptation of a Dennis Lehane novel, which was then followed by a tense, Boston-set crime thriller. But despite all those, many are still quite unsure as to whether or not Ben Affleck is really more than just a pretty face and if he really is a capable filmmaker and screenwriter. This perception of him, of course, can mainly be attributed to cinematic abominations such as "Gigli" and "Pearl Harbor", both of which he had unfortunately starred in. Here then enters "Argo", a gripping thriller that may surely turn even the most extreme Affleck skeptics into instant believers. Well, although I won't completely go out of my way as to call Affleck a bad filmmaker, I'm honestly not that deeply awed of his directorial body of work prior to this film. Intrigued by what he can do, maybe, but not that much. But this time around, count me in as one of them converts; "Argo" is indeed an insanely great film.

     

Being a regular inhabitant at Cracked (a very intelligent comedy website), I was able to constantly scan through numerous well-written humor articles that tackle relatively obscure historical/political facts and stories. One of them, obviously, is the very story of "Argo" itself, which has fascinated me (and made me laugh at some point, naturally) to high heavens when I first read it. Yet weird enough, when "Argo" was released, I haven't the slightest idea that it is indeed about the said 'Cracked' article. Instead, what I thought the film will be is something akin to a mere stylistic copy of Roman Polanski's "The Ghost Writer". But boy was I wrong.

     

Packed with just the right amount of endearing characterization, tense sequences and moments of genuine humor, "Argo" is easily one of the best films of the year specifically because of how it has managed to be both politically compelling and entertaining at the same time, with great supporting performances by Alan Arkin and John Goodman (as the legendary Hollywood make-up artist John Chambers) to boot. As for Affleck's performance itself, it is, in no way, very memorable, especially when he's in scenes alongside Walter White, er, Bryan Cranston, who's just perfect in that bureaucratic CIA role. But even though Affleck's acting is not much of a revelation (his first choice for the role was not himself but Brad Pitt), the real star in this film is his inspired directorial effort; that and the beauty of 'science fiction' itself, which the film was able to subtly highlight.

     

Of course, with "Argo" being a politically-charged film, its closeness to the truth is surely a great question, especially in its depiction of the Iranian populace and the real role of Canada in the accomplishment of the rescue mission. But for me, "Argo" is really not much about politics. Instead, what I think the film is actually all about is how seemingly contradictory forces (the Hollywood and the Government; Canada and the USA) can do an almost miraculous difference, all with the help of a make-believe planet and some storyboard aliens.

     

Like 2011's "Hugo", "Argo", although very sublimely at that, is a tribute to the power of movies, and how it's not just a medium where we're able to discover the intricacies of life, but one which can also save some. And who would have thought that it will be some cheaply-imagined science fiction tale that can do such? "Argo", despite its heavily political nature, is an understated celebration of the imagination.

     

For the longest time, the science fiction genre has been widely considered as the ultimate form of 'escape'. Indeed, in many cases, it actually is, what with its abundance of colorful interplanetary creatures, silver-clad heroes and interstellar adventures. But let's not forget that, for once, it was also instrumental for actually pulling off quite a literal one. "Argo", a stunningly inspired sleeper of a film, will forever remind us of that fact.

FINAL RATING

Zero Dark Thirty (Kathryn Bigelow)

The end of the road.

It is official. Kathryn Bigelow has done the meagerly impossible, and that is to top his Best Picture winner that is "The Hurt Locker". Far more ambitious, dense and a tad more entertaining, "Zero Dark Thirty" is the 'War on Terror' film to end all 'War on Terror' films; quite funny, really, because the film does not even feature any scenes of actual warfare at all. And quite funnier, still, is the fact that the film was initially offered to Kathryn Bigelow's ex-flame James Cameron, who then declined the offer stating that he'd rather stick with his blue Pandora natives. Suddenly, I can imagine Bigelow, like Tura Satana in a Russ Meyer film, standing tall, stating "Look who's laughing yet again!?"

     

"Zero Dark Thirty", in simple description, is an intense reenactment of what might be the most important 'cat-and-mouse' chase of the 21^st century, and perhaps also the most controversial and polarizing, all thanks to one man (Osama bin Laden) and his merry band of terrorists (the whole of Al-Qaeda). Alright, granted, there was that little Saddam Hussein sideshow which has populated news media while this bin Laden search is commencing. But what separates Osama Bin Laden's case from that of Saddam's, although very similar in nature, is the former's almost mythical quality. Is bin Laden a real person? Is he still alive? Where in the world is he hiding? (Morgan Spurlock comes to mind) These are the questions which constantly boggle our minds for years as we go on with our everyday lives. At one time, I have even seen a news item on TV (Or have I read it somewhere? My memory regarding the matter is much too hazy) stating that Osama bin Laden, the most notoriously feared person this side of the world, has finally died of Tuberculosis. Damn, I thought, that would have been very anticlimactic for a man who has lived a life of constant danger and, for a lack of a better term, adventure. But alas, the news item, as it turns out, is not true. Indeed, Osama bin Laden is that little Boogeyman in our sleep that not even our brave teddy bears can fend off.

     

For years, we have lived in both fear and fantasy. All of us, in one way or another, have dreamt of scenarios which involve us, bin Laden himself, and some apt armaments. If my memory serves me well, there's a viral computer game way back that's mainly focused on realizing just that. In the game, you are a terrorist hunter (If I'm not mistaken!) trying to take down bin Laden with a pistol, who was revealed to be hiding inside a liquor store located in the very heart of mainland America (!). Oh and there's also that 'Miniclip' game which finds George W. Bush himself under attack by terrorist forces inside none other than the White House itself! As expected, we play as the M-16-armed Bush as he goes all "Harrison Ford" against the, presumably, Al-Qaeda terrorists.

     

Indeed, we have lived this life of utter, teeth-gnashing fantasy of finally putting an end to the path of carnage and destruction that these terror bringers are leaving. Hell, even "South Park" had such a wet dream (See "Osama bin Laden Has Farty Pants" episode). And now, finally seeing "Zero Dark Thirty", I personally have arrived to a satisfying denouement. No more flash games and no more South Park parodies. We have finally come to a conclusion, and this time, it's very real. The absence of the cadaver's picture irks the little 'Conspiracy Keanu' in me, but still, it's quite a sigh of relief that the Time Magazine's 'Man of the Decade' (in a twisted alternative universe) has finally met his demise.  

     

For a film with a running time of close to 3 hours, "Zero Dark Thirty" has steadily maintained both the abundance of tension and interest in the narrative mainly because of the film's visual realism, heart-thumping suspense and a central character that we actually quite care about. For the latter aspect, I have to thank Jessica Chastain for giving a commanding yet ultimately affecting performance as Maya, a young CIA agent who may have just arrived at a lead that may bring them to bin Laden himself. And better yet, with his pants down. By way of Chastain's character, Bigelow has just proven that she has indeed mastered the essence of politically-charged thrillers, which is the combination of tension and humanity. In my opinion, she is in no way an action movie director. Instead, she merely filters the action through the eyes of her central characters, and how it unfolds in a way that affects their very beings. For that matter, I think that Kathryn Bigelow is more apt to be labeled as an 'action dramatist'.    

     

No opening credits and not even a proper title card, the film, like a politician who immediately cuts to the chase by stating "Just vote for me, you sons of bitches," brings us immediately into the heart of the action, which involves the brutally persuasive art of interrogation. These scenes, as we all know, have left some people in utter outrage and adamant defense.

     

"Those (the interrogation techniques used in the film) are highly inaccurate and are nothing but pure movie-making mash," says the CIA. "This film advocates torture and should be boycotted," says one A.M.P.A.S. member. As for me, the interrogation details are highly irrelevant to "Zero Dark Thirty's" quality as a film; in the context of a purely accurate film maybe, but not as a riveting thriller, because it has lots to boast of in terms of that. Maybe those commenting against the film should watch a different one altogether; maybe they’ll fancy "Taxi to the Dark Side" more, which is a powerful documentary, by the way, that will, in many ways, nicely complement "Zero Dark Thirty".

     

It's just some mere hours ago since I've watched the film, and believe me, there's a distinct kind of lasting sensation that goes home with you way after the film is over. Was it satisfaction? Perhaps it is. But I need a better term. Oh, 'catharsis' maybe, about the idea that finally, our world is one evil, bearded man less. But that's also where I'm a bit apprehensive. That after all, Osama bin Laden is just one man; just a thin metal piece in the whole industrial-sized umbrella. Suddenly, I'm a terrorist hunter in a liquor store again.

FINAL RATING 

Nanook of the North (Robert J. Flaherty)

Nanook.

While watching "Nanook of the North", I sure can sense the fact that some of the scenes were staged. But after finding out that the film was indeed not a hundred percent spontaneous and unscripted, "Nanook of the North", for me, has still lost none of its power. So what if the film isn't particularly authentic through and through? Let's take Werner Herzog's documentaries as great cases in point. Like "Lessons of Darkness" and the even more experimental "The Wild Blue Yonder", Herzog's documentaries were filled with actual footage only made metaphysically adventurous by half-cryptic, half-poetic narrations, which forge otherworldly narratives in the process. In Robert J. Flaherty's case, his main intent has none of Herzog's maddening grandiosity. Instead, his only goal is to plainly highlight, with honest anthropological eyes, the plight and bittersweet adventures of the Eskimos in the northernmost part of America, but with an anchoring main character to cohesively hold the film together. 

     

For me, the issue of non-authenticity in "Nanook of the North" is unimportant because as long as a story compels and drags you in a world previously unseen, then that, I think, is more than enough. And what about the hardships endured by Flaherty's crew themselves during the film's extraneous shoot? Isn't that an amazing feat in its own right? I do think so. "Nanook of the North", even for that reason alone, is worthy of all the recognition that it has gotten across time. But aside from that, I do think that the film itself is also a great example of cinematic determination at its infancy, but that does not make it any smaller compared to the hardships of today's industry. Let's just say that Robert J. Flaherty, even before Werner 'The Mad German Genius' Herzog was born, was already going all "Fitzcarraldo" in the deep arctic way before it was cool (pun not intended, by the way). 

     

The film, about the titular Eskimo and their everyday Exodus towards one simple goal (food), is a bittersweet documentation of what goes on in a place where technology and civilization is all but absent and where Walrus meat are one of the very few luxuries. Nanook (Allakariallak), the patriarch, is an experienced hunter who literally goes through thick and thin just to provide food and shelter for his family, complete with an almost irremovable smile on his face. For a film that is fully bent on visually tackling the turbulent topography of the arctic, "Nanook of the North" is also filled with countless scenes of tear-inducing poignancy, candidness, and awe-inspiring naivety, some of them being scenes involving Nanook and his son. 

     

In one scene, we even see Nanook, after trading goods with the so-called 'white man' trader in exchange for meager articles (money, after all, is immaterial to them), listens, with profound wonderment, to the quasi-magical sound coming from a phonograph. After doing so, Nanook, after being handed a vinyl record by the white man, first puts it near his ear, and then his mouth. The next thing we know, he is biting on it just like how we see 'Tarzan-like' characters do so in many movies.  

     

As a viewer, one can't help but to laugh at his utter ignorance. But in a way, one can also feel how enviable people like Nanook really are, especially when their tender innocence and their advantage of not knowing much evokes a sense of pure joy commonly unseen among highly civilized and decorum-following folks. As the old adage goes, sometimes, "ignorance is bliss." 

     

But apart from "Nanook of the North's" heart-thumping poignancy, the film is also chock-full of scenes which showcase Nanook and company's excellent craftsmanship, despite of the fact that they are miles removed from actual civilization. There's a moment in the film where Nanook, after building an igloo along with his family, picks up a glassy block of ice which he then proceeds to incorporate into their make-shift shelter. As it turns out, Nanook has turned it into a glass window perfect for their igloo. After that, Nanook then puts an additional block of ice beside it; this, as it appears to be, will serve as a sunlight reflector so that the interior of their igloo will be sufficiently lighted. 

     

So with that, we will go back to the initial inquiry as to whether or not scenes like the ones mentioned above were indeed authentic or merely staged. For me, the question of whether the film really deserves to be labeled as the first documentary film in cinematographic history is highly insignificant because "Nanook of the North", scripted or not, improvisational or otherwise, is nevertheless a film that intensely channels both the spirit of adventure and the resilience of the human body amid the constant prospect of an icy death. Flaherty, in this film, may not be a documentarian in the purest sense of the word, but he has sure attained a level of cinematic humanism still untouched at the time. 

     

Personally, Flaherty's constant capturing of Nanook's smile, which automatically spreads across his face almost immediately after his close brushes with certain death, just reminds me of the fact that both happiness and contentment have no geographical limits or ends. Ironically, I never expected that it is in the chilling coldness of the deep arctic that I shall find and relish what may be the most flawless documentation of human warmth there is. Until now, I can't remove Nanook's smile off my mind; so pure, so human and so true.

FINAL RATING

Zabriskie Point (Michelangelo Antonioni)

Free love.

At the height of the American counterculture scene, a certain auteur named Michelangelo Antonioni, because of contractual obligations with producer Carlo Ponti and MGM, has set out to create "Zabriskie Point", an anti-consumerist film about the tattered fabrics of late '60s Americana. As we all know, the film, after being a critical and commercial disaster upon its initial release, has since amassed, among viewers, a silent cult following.

     

For a film about counterculture (or, to a certain extent, even entirely counter-American), such 360-degree turn in terms of audience perception is just rebelliously perfect. In a way, it's as if the film, after being initially misunderstood, has emerged victorious against an improbable adversary. Antonioni, an artistic outsider merely dipping his fingers in a culture he does not fully understand, is an image of elegant audacity. But because of his perennially indifferent approach to emotions and a tad too reserved an execution, "Zabriskie Point" does not quite reach the utmost potential it most certainly has.

     

Nevertheless, the film, for what it is worth both in the context of American culture and in the context of Antonioni's pulse as a filmmaker, is still quite a unique triumph. In a tumultuous time when demonstrations and cries of protests were brash and recklessly loud, "Zabriskie Point" is a film of quiet anger. And in the pages of Antonioni's cinematic play book, this is a most definitive approach.

     

Depending highly on symbolic visual manifestations (the imagined mass orgy representing sexual liberation; the film's destruction of consumerist products captured in slow-motion) rather than on obvious imagery and contrived scenarios, the film feels fresh and, typical to Antonioni, alien.

     

For the record, "Zabriskie Point" is never the definitive, all-American counterculture film. Instead, what the film actually represents, on Antonioni's part, is something personal and culturally detached. This is, after all, Antonioni's sarcastic love poem to America. By often framing his characters in front of commercial billboards displaying sandwich spread products and corporation names, Michaelangelo Antonioni was able to enforce his critique of the American 'way' without looking forced and too satirical. So "Zabriskie Point", in a way, is less a film than it is a state of mind.

     

Typical to Antonioni's thematic style, the film wallows less on the nuances of humanity but more on why people are slowly losing it. In this film's case, 'capitalism' and 'mass consumerism' are the main culprits. But before everything goes too far, I do not think that the film is entirely political or even completely radical. If anything else, "Zabriskie Point" purely wallows on the futility of activism. That after all, making an anti-establishment film is just like writing an anti-glacier book (kudos to Kurt Vonnegut). Alas, Antonioni's indifferent brand of cinema, which has earned him both fans and detractors alike throughout the years, has worked yet again, and quite fascinating at that. Through the use of on-screen movements rather than words and dialogues, he was able to convincingly capture the essence of 'free love' during the time.

     

The great example for this is the scene when our two protagonists, one a beautiful anthropology student (riding a car) and the other a rebellious young man (riding a small plane), show their subtle endearment to each other by way of "North by Northwest-esque" aerial communication. As touching as it is strange, Antonioni has made use of two very American manufactured products (the car and the plane) and turned them into objects that bridge human connection. And then of course, there's that famous orgy scene, performed with dream-like abandon by the Open Theatre and beautified by Pink Floyd's transcendental music. Moreover, the film, by highlighting both the barren landscapes of the empty, titular part of Death Valley and the hustle and bustle life within the product-emblazoned corners of mainstream America, is also a textbook exercise in great visual contrast.

     

Generally speaking, "Zabriskie Point's" reputation was indeed highly damaged by the notoriety of its initial reception. For the film's producer and distributor, such failure spiels apocalyptic repercussions. But for a director like Antonioni, a man who is never new to countless boos and walk-outs (the Cannes screening of "L'avventura" comes to mind), such reaction is not a blemish to his ego nor his career but a mere solidification of his utterly divisive and infuriating power as a filmmaker.

     

For some directors, a picture of "Zabriskie Point's" quality can already be considered as a pinnacle. But for Antonioni, it's a mere frolic within the western movie system that he despises the most, and the joke's on them.

FINAL RATING