The Seven Year Itch (1955)

Artwork for DVD Release

Icon seems to be overused, and it is.  And myth hints at a bit of nonexistence, which does not apply here.  But it comes as no surprise that when you watch, or even just hear the name Marilyn Monroe, there's a bit of mythos that slips through, even if you've never watched any of her films.

Although forgettable for cinematic instances, minus the famous dress instance (which as a side-note, is attributable completely to a publicity shot, since no full establishing shot is visible in the film proper), the film exudes the sort of brilliant fine line dancing exhibited by Marilyn.  Always prancing in the fine line between sultriness and innocence, sexy and next door.  Always making you wonder whether she's playing a fool, or fooling you into playing along.

And that's brilliant.

The plot is simple, and explained in the four words of the title.  The structure of the film itself is mostly steadfast to what would have been seen in the play the film is based on, at least in structure and visual impasse.

Publicity Photo for Theatrical Release

The script is good, but the main character, played neurotically by Tom Ewell, seems forced at times, although that might be a characterization more than a flaw in acting, although knowing that Marilyn was forced to shoot this film under contract and against her wishes, it makes one wonder is the same is true for Ewell.   Regardless, occasionally a glimpse of brilliance comes through, and that makes the film a lot of fun to watch.

As for Marilyn's acting, it's impossible to not be awashed by the legend of Marilyn, even if her character is a simpler, more "girl next door" person compared to the actress playing the part.  And she's just sheer joy to watch, even in the most pedantic and shallow roles.


Apart from Marilyn's sheer and utter sultriness, not even an image (just a thought, a sexy joi de vivre), it's hard to think of any other indelible images that have stuck true to my mind a week after viewing the film, and that's a shame.

Publicity Photo for Theatrical Release

The structure of the film is off, and sometimes feels too forced and unnatural. 

The ending comes too abruptly and almost against type.  The film seems to be moving in a specific direction, towards a determined outcome in narrative and theme, even four minutes before the film is over, then suddenly in the last two minutes...KAPOW!  The credits roll and you're left to ponder.  Was is the censorship boards at the studio, in society, in government.  Something, because ultimately, not having read the original play, I'm left to wonder if the jauntiness is done on purpose or forced in post-production.

Rent this film if you can, Marilyn is worth it, and you might not watch it more than once or twice.  If you're a fan though, buy it on Blu-ray, the colors are truly amazing.

Coriolanus (2011)

Artwork for Theatrical Release.

Very few people have the diligence and patience to do cinematic justice to Shakespeare, and this is even more true with one of the lesser known plays.  Which is why we have a thousand versions of 'Hamlet,' but only a few of Coriolanus.

If you are used to Kenneth Branagh's Shakespeares and their smooth, polished, traditional approach to visuals and narrative, then this film will pleasantly surprise you.

And that's the point.

It is not as perfect as one would have liked having been used to Branagh, but then again, this is Raph Fiennes.  Fiennes, in his directorial debut, manages to make Shakespeare feel immediate and contemporary, not just in subject matter and approach, but also in aesthetics and themes.

I have not been this thrilled or as excited watching Shakespeare since Julie Taymor's Titus (1999) showed me Shakespeare's sadistic, horrific side in the most visually pleasing way possible.

I hate the phrase; but now-a-days (blah) it seems like when you want to capture action, cinematographers automatically reach for the Steadicam, and air on the side of shaky compositions.  It pisses me off to no avail, because often they're really covering up for weak choreography or overdoing the intensity of the action, so that ultimately the audience can follow little of the real narrative, which ultimately is the purpose.

I see you there hiding behind your Steadicam operator Michael Bay [The Island (2005)].

You're fooling no one!

Coriolanus manages to dissuade this notion, with carefully orchestrated synchronicity between traditional fare and some of its more contemporary brethren.  The camera work is great, static with imaginative compositions when needed, handheld and claustrophobic and shaky only when dictated, and that alone deserves applause.

The art direction is flawless, seamlessly floating between modern warfare, classical pomp and rich lobbying.  Creating this otherworldly, ethereal smorgasbord of imagery that leaves you guessing the true intentions of the characters actions and the filmmaker's intentions.  Creating layers, upon layers, of intrinsically choreographed symbolism, often having esoteric arguments with the acting and script.  Not an easily garnered laurel, alas.

Fiennes's concept of the digital/physical revolution dialectical dialogue is brilliant and innovative.  Having rebels easily switch between using terse dialogue, automatic weapons, to hand combat, cell phone videos, portable cameras, and sometimes contentious use of the media machine.  Capturing very well the ebb and flow of a contemptuous mob, of a rebellion on the brink of both glory and failure, and of a protagonist that is both perfect and flawed, sometimes by the same characteristics.

The sound design is cacophonous when prudent and minimalistic in surprising ways.  Sometimes slightly altering the reverb on the voices of the characters to make them feel ominous and eerie, even if you don't understand one hundred percent every bit of poetry and prose flowing from the mouths of the actors.

As a side note:  If you have a hard time with Shakespeare, as I confess I do, watch it with subtitles.  The mix of action, visuals, and text make understanding and comprehending it much easier. If Babel (2006) has taught us anything is that you don't need to understand what the characters are saying necessarily, to comprehend the story or be impacted by it, or through it.  And that's the lesson people seem to forget when they brush these films aside simply because they don't understand the language.

Artwork for Theatrical Release.

Looking beyond the language, the color palette is very drab, including not a single crimson color.  Not in the blood, not in the sky, nowhere;  except the occasional deep forest green in Coriolanus's private world.

Some of the compositions are just beautiful and full of hubris, for the characters and the fimmaker.  Which again, is not an easy accomplishment, but Ralph Fiennes does it, and considering the complexity of his acting, one would assume almost haphazardly; but meticulousness is more like it.

The acting is beyond breathtaking, even from minor characters that serendipitously pop up on screen.

Vanessa Redgrave, as Coriolanus's mother and puppet master, is much creepier and dangerous than fifty Coriolanus put end to end.  In the process, establishing a creepier dependent relationship between son and mother, that has not existed since the Bates clan.

Ralph Fiennes's embodiment of Coriolanus wreaks of Marlon Brando's colonel in Apocalypse Now (1979), particularly in the last act when the final climactic set of actions are set against an advancing rebellion and a retreating superpower; whose editing, only eclipsed by Coriolanus's tragic demise, is spot on and exhilarating.  All culminating in the most powerful ending I have seen in film lately!

The only bad thing to be said of the film, has really nothing to do with the film itself, but with Netflix's compression, even through a moderately fast internet connection.  It washes the blacks and the excess of digital artifacts, even when nothing else is running in the background, is ridiculous.

Save yourself the hassle and buy this on Blu-ray, or if you're not a fan of Shakespeare, then go rent it, it's worth it.

"There's a world...elsewhere."

The Darjeeling Limited (2007)

Artwork for Theatrical Release

Wes Anderson is as much a hard sell as Woody Allen or even Orson Welles to most people, and that's really a shame.  Wes Anderson's quirkiness could quite possibly rival anything Fox is dishing out with New Girl and the Mindy Project, but he does so while overloading the audience with a scintillating array of visual, aural, and oftentimes tactile essence, that the mainstream stumbles backwards away from the pure enjoyment of his films.

The Darjeeling Limited falls easily within the same vein, even if it has been forgotten mostly in the last five years.

This film is the perfect autumnal solstice film, and not just because the color palette snatches what one would expect in a 60 second psychedelic high-end apartment.  It is reflective, a bit depressive, while being at the same time gleeful, and hopeful.

Wes has a very specific style, very recognizable, sound design and all.  And they all function incredibly well together.  The dynamism of all the cinematic aspects functioning together in almost perfect, if not euphoric, synchronicity, is truly awe inspiring.

The script is brilliantly complex, even if missing a word or two while you savor the beauty of the previous deters from that.  Which fits the mood of the camerawork, editing, sound design and score all brilliantly cacophonous when needed and devoid of everything, all meticulously orchestrated by the Willie Wonka of cinephiles.

Perfectly, interestingly, awe-inspiringly organized mayhem.

Artwork for Criterion Release

What's most interesting and innovative about the film, is the use of the kinly relationship as a form for structuring the narrative.  This coupled with the dialectical symmetry and the way the cinematography supports and uppends both, is sheer  brilliance.

The slow motion shots in the funeral and the tracking shots of the eponymous train, including the final one, are utterly beautiful, stunningly breathtaking, and two weeks after the viewing are the most stunning fleeting memories of the film.

Very enjoyable, even if the narrative sometimes feel like it hasn't moved much, and here I think, might be the larger egress for the mainstream audience, but this should, in no way, prevent someone from enjoying this truly remarkable and beautifully eclectic film.

Buy this film on Blu-ray, Criterion and all.  The cinematography is worth the price tag alone.

The Women (2008)

Artwork for Theatrical Release

The original film is an integral part of the greatest year in film history (1939), it was directed by a man often considered one of Hollywood's greatest Golden Age directors, and starred Norma Shearer, Joan Crawford, and a billion other Hollywood starlets.

Surely a modern remake will take what little good charm was left in favor of remakes as a whole after Psycho (1998), and let's say, exponentially increase it?

So here we go.

One minute in and halfway through a very unimaginative introduction and I hate it already.  

Oh boy!  

So it was a welcome surprise when the first narrative shot introduced, a bionic shopping view, for no other reason than to propagate a stereotype.  Which I have to add is welcoming, not two sequences in and I have two new worst film moments ever.  And that includes Howard the Duck (1986) and Gigli (2003).

And the truly sad thing is that the stereotypes don't end there.  

Yes the talkative nail salon girl was in the original.  Yes the cattiness was there and so was all the shopping.  But where as in the original it felt as a necessary vehicle for its social criticism and a way to progress the narrative, here it feels painful and awkward and ill-fit.

Most of the fault can be rightfully levied on the script.  From the beginning to the end, the script is full of horrible lines and exposition that makes almost every minute of this film cringe worthy, and that makes the job of the actresses on screen incredibly difficult, and while most of them do a phenomenal job with the raw material, most notably Cloris Leachman and Annette Bening, some, I'm looking directly at you Jada and Meg, do a not so good job.

Annette Bening and Debra Messing are phenomenal together, their scenes being one of the few saving graces of the film.  They have great chemistry and their comedic timing is spotless.

Jada Pinkett Smith on the other hand, is too much and overacts easily.  Maybe she should take a few classes from India Ennenga, who plays Meg Ryan's daughter, who manages to feel natural and well rounded in a film full of flat characters and characterizations.

I'm going to be honest (for once), I used to love Meg Ryan, specially in French Kiss (1995) with its pursed anuses and Kevin Kline as a Frenchman (!?), but here, after a bad set of plastic surgery fiascoes, she is no longer cute and manages even to come across closer to something like the Joker's lead henchman.  

Artwork for Theatrical Release

I'm sorry, henchwoman, although I hear that title get's you paid 17% less across the board.

Twenty-eight minutes in and I'm bored and I just don't care about Meg Ryan's character.  She only musters enough sympathy and glee around Bette Midler.  But I wonder how much of that is really Bette and those by now slight fond memories of the Meg Ryan of yesteryear.

You can't find respite from all the mundaneness even in the production itself.  The camerawork and editing are a bit off, forcing the pace of the film to feel uneven and vexing.

The montages suck, stink to high heaven, and are horribly staged and executed.  They obliterate all the good energy and vibes (what little of it) the film had built up, and gives nothing in return.  Which is worse considering how many of them are required to move the narrative along.

It's even more of a shame that you have to wait 99% of the film for something truly good and refreshing to come across in this film.  But I guess it's never too late.  The final scene presents the most realistic birth scene I can remember ever seeing on film, apart from the CGI birth in Children of Men (2006), even if the baby here came out squeaky clean.

But then again, that scene alone is not worth the whole jetliner, so just go watch Children of Men and leave with a good feeling about humanity and cheaper peanuts.

Skip this film, unless you need a pretense for masochism.

God!  What a waste of film that was!

No Country for Old Men (2007)

Artwork for Film

It's been five years since this film was released and marked a truly remarkable seismic ripple in the cultural zeitgeist.  Everyone from the Simpsons to Saturday Night Live have mocked, parodied, insinuated, or simply mimicked the themes and characters of this film to varying degrees for effect.

As a rule of thumbs, I tend to stray from films that have a tendency to become a time sensitive infatuation, and as such, here I find myself, five years later, on a brisk early fall morning, in a particular mood to finally force myself to watch this film that has been sitting on my shelf for no less than a year.

The script is chillingly brilliantly, setting the pace for the film itself from the very beginning.  Monotonous at times, slow paced, brilliantly dialogued with the constant struggle of generational dichotomies.  It even manages to be comedic at times, most notably in its late snipe at those cantankerous nobodies, "accounting."

The narrative captures you, forcing you to ask questions, to get interested, to want to know more, or less, depending on how you swing.

The editing does a brilliant, deviant job at establishing the pace and tension.  A hood ornament leisurely pacing its way to no particular predetermined destination has never been a more ominous sign of trouble to come.  Morphing into a charging bull that is taking way too long to reach it's destination, heightening expectation, sliding you unconsciously closer to falling from the edge of your seat.

The art direction is pristine in its subtlety and attention to detail, down to the ring stains on the motel bedside table, establishing a sense of having been forgotten, of  natural solitude, and the unpredictability and serendipitous nature of destiny that drive these otherwise boring and disenfranchised characters on divergent tangents.

In the Coen's universe, even the cityscape, once the welcomed solace from trouble and preternatural menace, are brown and gray and tanned and isolated.  Mirroring the desert that so ominously framed the catalyst to the narrative.

Not serendipitously, there isn't a single flat character in the whole film.  Not the gas station attendant.  Not the hotel desk clerk.  Not the one percent mafiosi.  Even Javier Bardem's character, of whom nothing is known, is mysteriously well rounded, and you can thank Bardem for that, down to the organic, orgasmic feel of the first killing.

Bardem has embodied his character with a very deep growl here, very subtly menacing and disconcerting.  

No Country introduces a Bardem that is as far away from the enchanting, wayward artist from Vicki Cristina Barcelona, and closer to the emotionless killers of 70s and 80s horror films. Yet Bardem's psychopath is more chilling than Michael Myers or Jason Voorhees ever could be.  

By the end of his rampage you realize that Bardem's little twitches, his little anachronisms, his meticulous characterization, down to his way of killing, even his modus operandi, is one of a clean freak, and that's creepy.

Still frame from Simpson's episode, creepy haircut et al.

A killer with a dirt phobia beats a guy with blades on his fingers any day.

Tommy Lee Jones is as chilled as he can get, which is purposely disconcerting.  Kelly Macdonald is phenomenal (she's one of my cinephilic crushes) and a natural, even mastering an accent that is as far away from her native Scottish one as any other.  And Josh Brolin is the sort of antihero that flips between savant and pure ignorance with so much ease that you cannot figure out whether he's cool because he knows exactly what he's doing, or calm because he has no idea that he has no plan for what's coming.

Buy this film on Bluray, the cinematography is worth it.  Otherwise save money and get the DVD, the film will be around for a while.  Thankfully.

Babel (2006)

Artwork for Theatrical Release

On a completely unrelated hunch, on September 10th, I popped this film into my PS3, which until then, had been sitting on my shelf of things to watch for months.

I remember the film being heavy, and a bit of a bore, and hard to stomach, but even before the relevance of the Arab-winter (god I hate that phrase), the film had surprised me with insight, both cinematic and otherwise.

I loved the concept of no subtitles, which I realize might alienate some of the audience, which is exactly the point.  I understand Spanish and English, so I understood about half of the film, but watching the Middle-East sequences and the Japanese sequences makes me wonder what someone who speaks none of these languages would get out of it.  How about someone who speaks all of the languages.

I was half-tempted to put subtitles on a handful of times, but again that defaces the point of the film.  The film is shaped by what we understand and what we don't understand at the same time, even if we're not aware of it's tentacles.

Language aside, the other theme running rampant throughout the film, is the concept of serendipity.  In a bus full of people, why them?  In a country full of immigrants, why her?  It's a concept that drives the narrative forward in such a subtle and expressive way.

The editing is beautiful and harsh, and utterly unapologetic, which is essential in the course of the film.

The world of the film is a world we don't understand, and we're thrust on it, mercilessly, and the cinematography, art direction, and all other aspects showcase this methodically.  The film becomes intrinsically about the human condition, whatever that may be, seen through the eyes of human fear of the unknown.

For Iñarritu, film reality is about grittiness, lack of glamour, and lots of blood, but never in excess.  It is unrelenting, unapologetic, and beautiful and entrancing all the same.

Iñarritu bombards all your senses.  Allowing you to smell the goat skins curing in the hot sun, and then strips all of that in order for the audience to feel the utter isolation of the Japanese girl.  And it hurts.

Ultimately, the film becomes one of the most gut-wrenching things I've seen in quite some time.  And it hurts so good.

The acting never misses a beat, which is good, because it wouldn't work any other way.  It's a narrative so complex and replete with questions, that any film-aspect out of whack would have faltered the whole film and made it unbearable, and that's the beauty of the film that I missed on first viewing all those years ago.

The cinematography is beautifully executed and proper to its style and nature.

The camerawork is beautiful and well paced, and the Steadicam is used in such a convincing way, that it is the first time that it's use has not bothered me.

The sound design is phenomenal, not overpowering, but instead present just enough to illicit the necessary emotional responses.

The forgiveness of time for the sake of narrative is enamoring and wonderfully executed.

The sparse soundtrack is beautiful and entrancing, and the outro song by Chavela Vargas (you would recognize her as the old lady that sings to Salma Hayek in Frida) is so painful and proper that it hurts.

Alas, there is no way to watch this film non-prophetically in lieu of the death of the American Ambassador to Lybia.  And although I originally popped this film into my player on the 10th of September, serendipity intervened and I was unable to watch it until the next day.  And that changed the whole dynamic of the film.  Suddenly the news of the morning had been blasted on my screen, and I would have to deal with it.  But even without that background, the film stands solidly on it's own merits.

If you loved the destructive naivete of the characters in Atonement but left with too much of your soul intact, then Babel is the film for you.

Buy it now, it is worth it, even if you don't have the strength to watch it until later.  I feel it's one of those heavy films that time will slowly forget.

Sadly.

Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows (2011)

Artwork for Theatrical Release

It's been about a week since I've seen this film, and I already can remember very little of it, and I fear that what I can remember is probably from the trailers not the film proper.

One of the first things that jumped out at me was the relative shoddy quality of some of the aspects of the sets, in particular the fake weathered wood when Holmes is getting his butt handed to him in the alleyway at the beginning of the film.

All in all, the art direction reads too much like a textbook (read: bad textbook) thesis of post-Victorian fashion and interior design.

Maybe they're saving the budget for the rest of the film.

The editing is not as much fun as it was the first time around, and the slow-motion way that Robert Downey's eponymous character figures everything out, is still cool, but whereas in the first film it was instinctive and innovative, here it feels ill-advised and ill-executed.

I have said it before, and here alas, we go again, fast cutting is no replacement for good fast thinking rhetoric, and when it's paired with borderline bad acting, the bad editing is made ever more recognizable and cringe-worthy.

Maybe they're saving the really good editing for the awesome stuff to come.

Yay!

The script is unnecessarily complex and with too high a language for its target demographic, leading to a horrible mess that will leave neither older Sherlock fans happy, nor young people content.

Un-yay!

I was about a third of the way through the film before I realized that 1) the film was unnecessarily confusing and 2) I just didn't care.  That coupled with the fact that the main reason I watched this film, Rachel McAdams, had been killed in the first 15 minutes, in an oh-so pathetically horrible fashion, made me want to turn the freaking thing off.

As a side note, I would have preferred a re-imagining of her actually dying in the bridge collapse from the first film.  Which consequently, is the only part of that film I can actually remember distinctly, which bodes not well for it since what I remember most vividly is the crappy CGI in that scene.

Maybe they were saving the budget for an even more kick-ass actress.

Come on Natalie Portman cameo!

As reprieve, once the plot is set in motion, three quarters of the film in (sigh), the action is actually pretty good and enjoyable, although again as mentioned in a previous post (The Island):  A vehicle, in this case a train, that has had two massive explosions, including one that cut the train in half, would at some point notice and stop, no...anyone out there listening...Michael Bay!

But who knows, maybe they were saving their 35mm film reel budget for kick-ass things to come.

Funny, my notes end there.

And that's the problem with the film.  For the amount of money spent on it, it is no more enjoyable than the first, and even more forgettable.

Maybe they were saving their budget for the next film.

Maybe they'll forget to make it.

Please don't buy this film, wait for TBS to run it when the third film careens towards your local multiplex.

If you're a fan of Sherlock, there's a new CBS series with Lucy Liu and PBS is currently running occasional episodes of the British modern remake of the series which is brilliant.

Atonement (2007)

Artwork for the Theatrical Release

My first impression of this film, when I watched it back in 2008, was one of awe and anger.  Awe at the explicit beauty of the film.  Awe at the cinematography, the acting, the narrative, and everything else cinematic.  But also anger at this stupid little girl, and her callousness, and all the derisive consequences brought upon by her maliciousness.

Most of that feeling has not changed.  As a matter of fact, it seems to have become more complexed and confusing, and awe-inspiring.

Atonement is pathetically painful on second watching, because you know what's coming, you know the con, you know the game.  But it lures you with its cinematography, it teases you with its sound design, it tugs at you with its script, to the point of catharsis, sheer cinematic ecstasy.

The perfect example of this multilayered buildup, is my realization of the complexity of the sound design and the imaginative instrumentation in the score, which are unexpected and brilliantly executed.  The subtle intonations of a clunky well worn typewriter.  At first clanking away, but soon joining the tempo of the score, all executed in a seemless way, leaving you to assess at which point did the narrator become so musical.  That bit, coupled with the busy buzzy bee trapped in the window, are two of the most memorable things from the film, and that's an unexpected, surprising emotion for a film that, upto that realization, had been so traditional in structure and fare.

The sound design is very thorough throughout, down to the last seconds of the last reel, providing symbolism while setting the pace for the story and hinting at the foreshadowing of things to come.

In execution, the film is very much British in style and presentation, which means the Art Direction is phenomenal.  Like most British films that cross the pond, this film is very literary, and treats every aspect of the film making process as a vehicle for that transgression.

Artwork for the Theatrical Release

The camera work is masterful in subtleties and pristine in purposefulness, working in tangent with the sound design to hide or showcase subjects as needed, building the complexities in the narrative structure and script.  The structure of the narrative functions to elevate what was already an interesting and complex story into one full of intrigue and suspense, and providing one of the best depressing endings.

Ever.

The script is brilliant and multilayered in all sorts of manners, and worth deconstructing and examining.  And the same could be said about the editing which is complex to the point of coming across as simplistic.  As an editor by profession, I can tell you that when the editing is best exercised, it is least noticeable, and least appreciated:  Let this not be one of those cases.

Noted.

Briony Tallis (amen to British adoration with name symbolism) as played by Saoirse Ronan is great:  Creepy, and troubled, and awkward, and childish, and sometimes surprisingly mature in her maliciousness even if naive in conviction or purpose.

Keira Knightley is so beautiful and so splendid an actress, even if in the mainstream, she's still just a pretty face, and that itself distracts from her talents. At times, she is so spectrally beautiful, justly so after all the injustices she's affected by at the hands of destiny, serendipity, and a morbidly horrible little girl.

Atonement is ultimately a story of pain, hurt, horror, penance, and the prayers we toss to the wind, for love, for war, for family, for life.

Try not to cry at the end.  Try not to feel utter pitty for Briony.  Try not to feel miserable.

Miserable but enlightened, and that's all you can ask from a film.

Even if you can't decide whether you can forgive someone who is in so much pain atoning.

Buy this film on Blu-ray, the Art Direction is worth it, even if you're not a particular fan of Keira's astonishing distracting beauty.

There I go, I lost my focus, oh well.

Black Snake Moan (2006)

Artwork for a Foreign Theatrical Release

Black Snake Moan is a raucous story of two lives, in perfect synchronicity on a symmetrically downward spiral, and the editing makes no attempt to hide it.

The script, which for the first 80% is spot on, twirls the characters steam-rolling towards their personal black snake moan, providing, in the most opportune of times, the most unlikely of saviors in the most unsavory of circumstances.

It is above all else, a very interesting take on the bonds of humanity and the bonds of religion and the fragility of the human mind and spirit.

The editing, in supporting that theme, is spot on and worth studying, but the most remarkable aspect is the music and the purposeful sound design and editing, and the awe-inspiring cinematography.  There are justly, some beautiful, cool and purposeful shots.

Very beautifully shot and stylized with a just and proper twang, music and all.  It is gritty and imperfect and full of fucked-up characters, much like the backwoods blues that Samuel L. Jackson's character intones with.

The only complaint plastered on my notes sheet, is a quick quip about Justin Timberlake's high octave voice.  It's more poignantly a snarky comment about his acting, but I think his acting is actually fine, his voice just strikes weirdly in the TV speakers.

I have found it to be a much better film on a second viewing:  Coming out of it, with a completely different morality and appreciation for the film than I did 5 years ago.  I don't half expect this film to make it's way to the mainstream, which is a shame because it's beautifully done.  But to deal with this film, you must deal with your own moans, and I'm afraid very few people watch films to do this. 

The film glosses not over some of the most jarring and uncomfortable topics in any civilization; coarse sexuality, blatant religiosity, adverse poverty, rampant racism, and rape.  If you can pick even one of those topics and find a complete stranger to carry a conversation about it, then kudos to you, but you are lying to no one.

This film on the other hand, manages to handle them with the most humane of attitudes, without preaching or passing judgement.  The film is about facing up to your demons and learning to deal with them, and there it succeeded in my second viewing.

The film does feel longer than the 115 minutes of running time appropriated to it, and that's not bad, the pace is expertly maintained and well managed.

Black Snake Moan, stands in my mind, as a true example of film-making at its most hedonistic.  And beautifully so.

Buy this film on Blu-ray when it comes out, if ever.  The DVD version that I have, which is the original release, has a bad compression which makes some of the more expansive shots hard to read on my 35 inch HD TV.

Love and Death (1975)

Artwork for DVD Release

A tried and true testament to the films that introduced Woody Allen to the film world, and made him such an icon of the American New Wave to the American public and their contemporaries abroad.

The film is thinly veiled as a hilarious treatise on existentialism with hints of a philosophical contemplation on sex and murder, which seems to have preoccupied Woody's mindset in the 1960s and 70s, culminating in his opus Annie Hall (1977), before turning to more dramatic fare afterwards.

It stands, as Woody films often do, as the right amount of intellectual hubris and crude infantile sexual jokes.

Love and Death stands to make you wonder the meaning of life, love and death, all the while keeping you rolling around in the floor, with a script so replete with phenomenal one liners, that you will be reciting them years after watching the film, without remembering where the context came from.

"Don't consider death as an end...think of it as a very efficient way of cutting down on your expenses."

I have personally, never seen a funnier boot camp montage since Robin Hood Men in Tights (), and even then, here, the montage serves more as a way of maintaining the pace, whereas in Men in Tights, it serves as a vehicle of laughter alone.

Artwork for Italian Theatrical Release

Diane Keaton has a splendid comedic timing, even if she stumbles noticeably twice with Allen's script.

The opening titles are a perfect example of the point I made earlier regarding the simplicity and emblematic nature of Woody's masterful approach to film making (see Vicky Cristina Barcelona).

Although not a splendidly technically perfect film, it is a thoroughly enjoyable film and a perfect example of the nature of the American New Wave.  It is as utterly game changing as any other of its contemporaries, including Monterrey Pop (1968), Cabaret (1972), or The Last Waltz (1978).

Like those films, Love and Death proves that you can take an otherwise stereotypically frivolous genre and infuse it with meaning, depth, and relevant transcendence, and do it all while creating a new standard of filmmaking a la Cinema Verite, or Neorealism.

The cinematography here is bleak, but the script and fast pace of the acting, make the film feel bright and exuberant, which makes the relative short span of 85 minutes pass even faster.  While still leaving you very fulfilled at the end.

Buy this film on DVD and on BluRay if it ever gets released as such.  It is worth your time and energy, and it stands well to multiple viewings.  My wife and I have watched this film at least once a year for the last 8 years, and we have never grown weary of it.