Charles_LePoje Reviews

The Double Life of Véronique (1991)

A Gift Of Cinema

[10/10 · 12 April 2007]

A festival of subtlest emotions; a gentle dive into innermost depths of soul's yearnings; a magical gaze into invisible and intuitive. Glimpses of eternity; life, death, mystique, spirituality, romance, art; darkness, light, reflections, shadows; echos, silence, music. A slight brush of the flapping of the soul's invisible wings; a glance at the spirit's fine and delicate contours; a peek at its mystical, miraculous and metaphysical silhouette.

Sublime cinema!

The Double Life Of Véronique is the creative pinnacle of Kieslowski's otherwise extraordinary rich career. This majestic film is a festive celebration of the wizardry of unrestrained, ingenious film-making, a showcase for singular quality of cinema as a collaborative art form. The film's steady, always radiant yet subtle energy, is a magic flow of transcendental forces, a wide river which makes artificial boundaries between two countries, Poland and France - between Weronica and Véronique - irrelevant and obsolete.

Véronique opens with an exterior shot of a Polish choir girl; her gaze lifted towards heavens, her angelic voice soaring as the spring downpour disperses the rest of the choir girls. A living angel singing an ode to the creator, a gifted girl celebrating the majesty of living. That's what artists are put on Earth to do - aspire to heavens.

La Double Vie De Véronique is a reflection of Kieslowskie's deep artistic longings, a mirror reflecting his most intimate film aspirations. The film was made during the crucial time in his life, the time of revolutionary upheaval - the lifting of the iron curtain; the time, also, of his moving to France from his native Poland.

The character of Polish Weronika and her mirror image, French Véronique, are composites of the artist's soul, the embodiment of his artistic strivings.

Supremely gifted with angelic soprano, Weronika is the artist's Polish alter ego. Her heart condition is a poetic metaphor of the fractured soul of an artist behind the iron curtain witnessing the collapse of the old world. Weronika's final demise is symbolic of the passing of an era and Kieslowski's eventual leaving his native Poland.

There has always been a dynamic duality within hearts and souls of eastern European artists. Constrained by the rigor and dogma of the totalitarian ideology, the artist's domestic roots and artistic inspirations were in constant conflict with the longing for the western freedom of expression and unrestrained creativity.

Véronique, a music teacher, is Weronika's body-double and, symbolically, Kieslowski's French incarnation. She is introduced in an erotic scene that surprisingly leaves the French copy of Polish Weronika saddened and melancholic. As the film moves from Poland-set first act to modern day Paris, we find Véronique feeling a strange sense of loss, a vague sensation that a part of her had mysteriously disappeared.

In an early scene in Poland, Weronika takes a note of a passing truck hauling an upright statue of Lenin. It is the time of turmoil, the time of sweeping, historic changes taking place.

The old Poland of the Kieslowskie's young, formative years is swept away by the course of history - forever gone. A heartfelt loss that an immigrant artist in a foreign country feels deeper than any other human being. Véronique's heart condition is symbolic of an uprooted artist's heartache - the pain for the things which a person leaving his country irrevocably looses. Véronique's search for the identity and whereabouts of her secret admirer through the maze of urbane Paris, is a primal quest mirroring Kieslowskie's own search for artistic identity and recognition in the new, unknown, more challenging foreign terrain.

The original soundtrack composed by master composer Zbigniew Prieznev compliments every aspect of the film to an extent that its haunting score becomes an integrated narrative element and its melodies turn into magical strings connecting the two women.

Genre-defying, as many European movies are, the films effortlessly crosses various cinematic terrains. This is a genuine masterpiece that will forever remain the finest achievement of the late 20th century European cinema.

On another level altogether, this majestic metaphysical thriller could be viewed as the first cinematic acknowledgment of the validity of the string theory of the universe.

The Lover (1992)

A French nymphet in a man's fedora thought it wasn't love

[10/10 · 9 April 2007]

This exquisitely rendered film adaptation of Margaret Duras' international best-seller weaves a bittersweet story about the most unlikely love affair.

An extraordinary love story unfolds in Saigon, in French colonial Vietnam, in the late twenties. The two protagonists whose budding liaison we follow throughout this melancholic French film are polar opposites. Cultural prejudice, the age disparity, class difference, racial divide, dysfunctional family, a pre-arranged marriage, a young girl in a man's fedora, all stand in the way of the most of elusive of humane pursuits - love. This is a love affair par excellence, about love of a very special sort; the only kind of love that is forever etched in the lovebirds hearts - the love that leaves both lovers broken-hearted.

Veteran filmmaker Jean-Jacques Annaud (Quest For Fire, In The Name Of The Rose, The Bear) gives the stellar screen adaptation of the book - by his frequent collaborator, screen writer Gerard Brach - a de luxe treatment. He seamlessly translates the superb screen play to the silver screen in the most effective fashion; much like celebrated rendering of Mario Puzzo's 'Godfather' by another cinematic master - Francis Ford Copolla. Both directors have miraculously elevated source materials, pop culture international literary phenomenons, into cinema classics. This memorable feature is a crowning achievement in the career of an acclaimed artist with imposing international stature.

That this flawless cinematic gem has not gotten prominence it deserves on our shores, is a lamentable testament to our puritanical society and the crudeness of populist taste. Irrespectful of high cinematic achievements the two sub-genres will always encounter sharp scissors of our merciless and hypocritical moral and cultural guardians. Our censors will inevitable relish at any 'sexually explicit', controversial love story that is left of mainstream (coffee-table pornography, in our righteous film critic's parlance) and, for different reasons altogether, at a serious, probing, insightful and provocative political picture. These are exactly the two film arenas in which foreign filmmakers are in a league way above the common and the mediocre, the two American leagues tackling the respective sub-genres.

There is a seduction scene at the beginning of this luminous picture that is as sophisticated and erotic as anything written by Stendhal; right from a classical French novel. This extremely rich, masterfully shot, explosively potent scene brimming with subtle eroticism, is the meeting, in the back seat of a car, of suppressed mature desire and the sweet dread of carnal awakening of a nymphet.

There are numerous scenes of striking beauty, poetically realized, throughout the movie, but one stands out. When the young girl, her sexuality fully awakened, approaches her lover's car and purses her lips on the window.

The precise, top-notch editing serves the picture well, always adding to the story's narrative drive or allowing for a moment of contemplation. The most exciting scenes end at just the right moments, when the viewers anticipation is at its highest. They are always followed by a lingering or tracking shot of magnificent, lyrical beauty.

Seldom is a close-up as eloquent as it is in the hands of Robert Fraisse, the film's Oscar nominated cinematographer (he had a misfortune of running against Robert Redford's 'A River Runs Through It). We learn more about the character of The Young Girl from a single protracted close-up of the girl, than we learn about characters in many other movies during the whole first act. By the time his camera reaches her old cabaret shoes, slowly lingering down her pigtail, pausing on a ribbon, the essence of her innocent persona is half-revealed. The whole film is spectacularly shot; a picturesque collage of never-ending, breath-taking images, elegantly composed and framed with a finesse full of visual majesty.

The film main conflict surprisingly stems from the young girl's a priori approach to the blossoming relationship. Her determination to keep the affair strictly sexual could have come out contrived were it not for the grim circumstances of her family life that had her mature before her time. Not inherent to her age group, the determination was way ahead of her times. It would take decades for such attitude to approach mainstream with female liberation movement which emerged in the late sixties.

On the opposite end, her rich Chinese lover is bound to marry according to his father's wishes and to the tradition of arranged marriages. Born into riches, with no profession nor any discernible talents, in his own words he is nobody without his money. Seemingly a perfect set-up for a guilty-free sexual liaison gets complicated when the Chinese bon vivant falls in love with the young girl and meets the torments of unrequited love.

'The Lover' is a cinematic gem of rare color and unforgettable spark; the love story of singular beauty and distinct resonance.

Grbavica (2006)

Rape Of Soul

[8/10 · 11 January 2007]

'Grbavica' is yet another superlative film coming from Bosnia. Firmly walking in the footsteps of Bosnian Best Foreign Language Film winner 'No Man's Land', the film trails a promising future for the fledging Bosnian film industry. This small, understated production is the proof-positive of the vibrancy of the Eastern European Cinema. A pioneering feature effort by the writer/director Jasmila Zbanic, the film has already been accoladed the prestigious Golden Bear at this year's Berlin International Film Festival and is sure to be a strong contender when it hits International festival circuit.

Ms Zbanic has created a quiet, sentimental and feminine picture of the war's aftermath and the emotional toll the war inflicts on a mother/daughter relationship. She assuredly, with a hand of a born film-maker, creates a small but potent film which is a startling reminder of cinema's transcendental powers.

'Grbavica' is sure to snuggle in the same underrated niche of anti-war movies that deal with lasting trauma on the psyche of war survivors. Movies like Hal Ashby's unforgettable 'Coming Home' or Russian 1959's classic 'Balad of a Soldier'.

The picture's lasting impact owes much to the haunting performance of Mirjana Karanovic, a consummate artist who has, for over a decade, been the most decorated and awarded actress coming from war-torn former Yugoslavia. In Esma, Mirjana has entered the body and soul of a tormented war victim with a dark secret, and thus given us yet another performance to talk about. Her daughter Sara is expertly played by the little Luna Mijovic in a film debut reminiscent of Natalie Portman's career-launching role in Luc Besson's 'The Professional'.

Variety's Russell Edwards pinpointed film's main shortcoming: '...the film is all set up and little pay off'. Indeed, although well-rounded and balanced, 'Grbavica' lacks complexity and dramatic density. A story thread is missing, a counterpoint of sorts, that would have enriched its thematic appeal and elevated its dramatic tension.

Even the best of war movies, intentionally or not, on some level or another could be seen as one-sided and propagandist. It took more than a hundred years of cinema for a film-maker to come along who realized this inherent danger in making war movies. 'Flags Of Our Fathers' is a solid war movie with a strong anti-war message. But who could blame some Japanese for seeing it as anti-Japanese. That's why the old man Clint, creating cinematic history, has given us 'Letters of Iwo Jima', the version of the same battle seen through the Japanese point-of-view.

Unspeakable atrocities are committed in any war. It would be idealistic if not idiotic to expect that a humane war could ever be waged. Both sides commit them, the stronger always more than the weaker. Had Ms. Zbanic weaved a story thread that would have touched upon this unfortunate reality, her subtle and soulful feature debut would have radiated universality of a true masterpiece.

Babel (I) (2006)

The short film about a winchester rifle or why can't we just get along

[9/10 · 14 November 2006]

A definitive post 9/11 film, 'Babel' depicts how the fear of terror broadens cultural misunderstandings and shows how some of the ripple effects of the growing climate of mistrust tragically reverberate on the lives of its innocent international protagonists. Make no mistake about it: 'Babel' is a contemporary social drama with lethal political undertones.

It is also a thinly veiled, gentle but evocative critical reflection on some of the grim realities broth forth by the aggressive, intolerant foreign policy missteps our leaders have undertaken in the wake of the horrific September 11 events.

'Babel' is all about borders; geographical, cultural, ethnic, as well as those most delicate - psychological. Invisable obstacles that keep parents from understanding their children, nations from trusting one another, ethnic groups from overcoming deep-seated prejudices . The West is as far away from the (Middle)East as it has ever been.

At the crux of one of the three story lines that the film weaves in a zig-zag fashion is the harsh, crude and heartless treatment of a Mexican nanny who had lived illegally in America for 16 years. Although never explicitly elaborated as resulting from the atmosphere of fear that permeates our new realities, it is indeed hardly imaginable that the film's depiction of the dry, totalitarian and cold-hearted demeanor of the American immigration officials would hold water in a serious pre-9/11 film.

Ideally and idealistically, if our leaders had made the strategic decision of resolving foreign policy issues by building bridges of understanding rather than bombing real ones, it is hard to imagine that a film like 'Babel' would have come into being. A genius artistic master stroke, one that reveals the film's topicality and political undertones, is the selection of a film's title. With this act, single-handedly, the creative team behind the film points its thematic inspiration towards the biblical story of the Tower of Babel. Thus, with a sophisticated hint, certainly not accidental, the film's gravitas is centered in Iraq, the ancient cite of Babylon, where biblical Tower of Babel was to be erected.

The single conduit of the film's main theme, the one item connecting all stories, is a Winchester rifle, a vintage American firearm. One could argue that the make of the rifle is insignificant. That could easily be the case in an average movie, written by a mediocre screenwriter, directed by an untalented director. But nothing is accidental where masters are at work.

Would the relevant ideas that the authors wanted to convey still be the same if the weapon of choice was Italian made Beretta pistol Parabellum - equally well known to weapon collectors worldwide?

One should think not.

American made weaponry figures prominently in the ongoing 'war on terror'. This very war that has come to be so divisive that clash of civilizations is no more a remote possibility. More American made weapons have been used in the wars of the 21st century than from any other country by a wide margin. If a single rifle can cause such devastating havoc, one can ponder the extent of horror caused by the massive amounts of weaponry unleashed in Afganistan and Iraq, both Moslem countries.

Indeed, as depicted in this film, it is an innocent Moslem family from Marocco that suffers irreparable tragedy. Whereas in other two story lines that the film follows there is a possibility for redemption and hope, in the segment taking place in Marocco life is permanently shattered and innocence forever lost. It would be anything but hypocritical to argue the indisputable fact that in the current conflicts in and around Iraq the biggest victims are innocent Moslem families. The real movie stars in this smart movie are not Hollywood heavy-weights. They are merely here as a marketing draw. If their characters were played by lesser known names, it is more than probable that this film would sink into art house obscurity. The true stars of the film, the very talented actors delivering the strongest dramatic punch are, at least to the wide American movie-going public, all ethnic unknowns.

Apart from its slight political ramifications, 'Babel' is an ode to fatherhood. Innaritu's dedication to his children, is a dead give-away for one of his thematic strands. Fatherhood, as opposed to parenthood, is at the core of his philosophical musings. In each of the tree segments, all involving children, the absence of a pivotal role of a mother is quite evident. In the Japanese segment this is especially true since the whole focus is on a strictly father-daughter relationship in the aftermath of their family tragedy. The Moslem mother in the Moroccan family is portrayed as passive and was given no prominent role. During a bus tour through desolate Maroccan country side, Kate Blanchet's character is wounded early on and thus somewhat sidelined. Brad Pitt, the father, is the spokesman of the family's trials and tribulations. None of these facts dilute the dynamics and dramatics of the story. They are merely a reflection of the proud role a father figure is given in Latin American culture, the culture from which both the writer and the director stem its artistic influences.

In the current dangerous political climate of mistrust in which we are just about to start erecting a wall alongside Mexican border, we should be careful that the wall is not too tall. Otherwise we could come to a point where the wall is so tall that even the artists the likes of Guillermo Arriaga, the writer of this important film, nor its director Alejandro Gonzales Inarritu, could climb over it.

Or worse yet, they don't want to.

High Roller: The Stu Ungar Story (2003)

Movie stars in Hollywood, politicians in Washington and gamblers in Las Vegas

[7/10 · 13 July 2005]

The basis for this dynamic docudrama is the true story of one of the most extraordinary card players ever.

STUEY is a tight, cohesive biopic of a true poker Ace whose life is a one-way trip down the Highway to Hell with few detours.

This dramatic feature stands wide apart from other films about poker. It represents a rare and earnest attempt to bring to the silver screen a true story of ultimate gambling compulsion. The complete obsession that annihilates any proximity of spirituality and nullifies any chance of redemption. This is the least likely movie a Vegas Casino executive would recommend. And it is the sole poker DVD you are likely to find on the shelves of Gamblers Annonymous.

There are scenes in this movie that poker buffs are sure to refer to as some of the best gambling scenes ever. Stu reading his opponent's hand and, particularly, a Texas hold'em bluffing scene.

Prophetically, early on in the movie we see a young Stu bullied out of his pocket change by a bunch of neighborhood hoodlums. Poker is for loners seeking revenge. It is a game of patience which bullies lack. 'You can't bully me!' may very well be an underlying sentiment of the punishing force that a champion poker player unleashes upon his adversaries.

Conservatives will look upon this film as a cautionary tale of a soul lost in sin. They may evoke Mark Twain: 'The best throw at dice is to throw them away.' The young and liberal masses will inevitably have a more simplistic and sympathetic outlook. They may not have heard of Twain's quote, but will sure remember a remark made by Stu's stunned pal who learns from up-and-coming Stuey that he'd won a car from a local character in an overnight game. 'You tell'em to go to hell and they look forward to the trip'.

The mosaic of Las Vegas vignettes that we see in STUEY will long linger in memory. Frank Sinatra, the most generous tipper? Forget about it! Nobody tips as extravagantly as a hot-shot gambler. And for Vegas visitors who may not know the impact of tipping on the quality of their stay, check out the scene of Stu checking in a Vegas hotel!

'This is what i was meant to do, this is where i was to be. Movie stars in Hollywood, politicians in Washington and gamblers in Vegas.'

The Terminal (2004)

Terminal Loneliness

[18 June 2004]

With 'The Terminal' Steven Spielberg has created a sweet, light-hearted comedy which is sure to please broad audiences and which will be a sizable financial bonanza for its producers. Spielberg's latest film has no higher ambition than to entertain. Its modest, understated approach serves the film well. The amalgam of the proper handling of the solid comedic material, Spielberg and Hank's superior talents, precise casting, and apt cinematography has concocted a benevolent, likable and appetizing movie experience.

Tom Hanks' talent flourishes to full bloom in 'The Terminal'. After an unfortunate acting choices in 'The Ladykillers' and in 'The Road to Perdition', Hanks is back to his prime form! In the film, he stars as Victor Navorski, a Russian-speaking visitor to New York City. Victor is caught in immigration limbo that leaves him stranded in the airport terminal for nine months. The film is a star vehicle and Hanks controls it like a pro. He is crucial for the film's success. The mastery of his performance, the indispensable value he contributes to the success of the project, brings to mind another comedic actor's splendid performance - Hugh Grant's charming rendition of a politically incorrect playboy in the 2002 trendy comedy 'About a Boy'.

'The Terminal' wastes no time in identifying and placing obstacles Victor needs to overcome. Empathy with the hero is thus easily established and we root for Victor right from the start. The film's first half-hour is most satisfying as we witness Victor's ingenuity in adjusting to new, extraordinary circumstances.

Inevitable, Victor meets a romantic interest in Amelia, a flight attendant played by Catherine Zeta-Jones. The characterization of the airline stewardess is a potent symbol that effectively mirrors Victor's current state - stranded, lonely and disjoined from the rest of the world. Amelia has lost faith in man, which is easier for a beautiful woman in her profession than in any other. For a brief moment she imagines that Victor could be just the right man for her. It is commendable that the filmmakers have evaded traps in defining their evolving relationship, traps that could have turned the film into a sappy melodrama. Zeta-Jones plays Amelia with gusto and just the right mixture of naiveté and desperation.

A comedy without a distinguished, pointed plot-line need to draw laughs from creative characterization of its supporting players. Here, Stanley Tucci playing the airport chief security official Frank Dixon and Kumar Pallana ('Royal Tenenbaums') as an airport janitor Gupta Rajan are especially noteworthy. Pallana, in pulling some of the antics obviously inspired by the Windex Dad from 'My Big Greek Wedding' incites more laughter than anyone but Hanks.

One of the missed opportunities to make this a more engaging picture is a failure to deeper explore and exploit Victor's motivation for coming to America. A desire to get a photo signed by an obscure jazz player, a missing link in his father's collection appears to be full of creative potentials and worthy of a substantial subplot.

Endings in Hollywood pictures have often been huge letdowns. Ever so frequently a wrap-up of a story is tailored to conform to latest market research or audience's expectations. It is refreshing that 'The Terminal' ends somewhat unpredictably but more to the story's spirit adding a dose of credibility to its fragile premise.

This fictionally weak, convoluted premise is actually based on a true-life tale of an Iranian refugee who has been living in Paris' Charles de Gaulle airport for 16 years. Life is stranger than fiction and unfortunately not always as humorous. In bizarre turn of events, the true-life tale of the Iranian refugee got a real Hollywood ending - he has received a rumored $250,000 from DreamWorks for the rights to his story.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)

Forget Me NOT!

[9/10 · 1 April 2004]

'Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind' is a jewel, or an orchid - a rare, precious find to be kept and cherished (or nourished). It is a film more akin to a small, adventurous and daring European production then to a major Hollywood release. The film seems to stem its influences mostly from two brilliant, young Spanish directors Alejandro Amenábar and Julio Medem. Conceptually, its slight romantic Sci-Fi blend recalls Amenábar's bravura tour de force 'Open Your Eyes' (aka 'Vanilla Sky'). Its elliptical story telling, its flight of fancy is Julio Medem's trademark ('Sex and Lucia','Tierra'). This is in no way to diminish the film's authenticity, creativity and originality. In no way. 'Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind' is a fresh, innovative piece of work that we have grown to crave in the barren, fruitless landscape of Hollywood cookie-cutter movies.

It is just the movie one would expect from the production companies named Blue Ruin, This Is That Productions, Anonymous Content - companies that have treated us with this small but remarkable movie.

The movie is a creative pinnacle in writer Charlie Kaufman's ('Being John Malcovich', 'Adaptation') career, and pushes him to the forefront of creative Hollywood.

'Adaptation' was to be all about the beauty, about the mystic of flowers, namely orchids. In it, Charlie Kaufman agonizes to find ways of adopting Susan Orlean's plot less book into a successful script without the help of Hollywood's screenplay guru Robert McKee's Ten Commandments. Halfway through the movie, Charlie gives in, attends one of McKee's writing seminars, adopts his formulas (conflict is clearly defined, a gun is introduced, an obligatory chase scene takes place, etc) and Charlie finally finishes his story. Unfortunately, it was not the story that we were (mis) led to expect for most of the movie. What was not achieved in 'Adaptation', creatively speaking, was brilliantly pulled off in 'Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind'. With it, and in it, Charlie Kaufman finally finds her - his 'Ghost Orchid'! He also finds a niche in Hollywood entirely of his own - a rare accomplishment indeed!

Jim Carrey is a perfect cast. In the aftermath, it is hard to imagine anyone else playing an introverted, lonely, and worn-looking Joel Barish. His manic energy subdued, his mannerism toned down, his trademark zaniness nowhere to be found, Here he completely reinvents himself. Kate Winslet, in another perfect cast, plays Clementine, a free-spirited, bohemian young woman who storms into Joel's life. Opposites attract, but there are thorns on the road to Happiness. When the going gets tough, you go for a radical solution. Enters Lacuna, a Memory Erasure Institute. The main thrust of the story is when Joel, in the middle of his treatment to permanently erase memories of Clementine, decides that he somehow wants some of his memories preserved.

That the movie skillfully zigzags through time and alternate realities is much to the credit of the French movie director Michel Gondry. A veteran music video director, he turns out to have been ideally suited to capture film's quirky, offbeat sensibilities.

The film's rare flow is the bizarre characterization of Lacuna's employees, otherwise expertly played by Mark Ruffalo, Elijah Wood and Kirsten Dunst. If Charlie Kaufman succeeded in subduing his early screen writing eccentricities (the way Jim Carrey did with his acting), the film would have been quite a bit more accomplished and far more acceptable to wider audiences.

'Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind' is an old-fashioned romance, infused with Generation X sensibilities and artificial/alternate reality special effects. It is, in essence, boy-meets-girl, boy-looses-girl and tries to get her back, time-honored formula with soft Sci-Fi axis the movie whirls around. The film is more likely to appeal to VH1 than to MTV audiences. And it is very likely to have a substantial foreign success.

Way to go, Charlie! Bravo Gondry!

Roger Dodger (2002)

Arrested Development

[8/10 · 4 December 2002]

The first feature film by writer/director Dylan Kidd catapults him into a forefront of what is, sadly, a very vacuous arena of relevant contemporary American filmmakers. The multitudes of talent displayed in his ostensibly simple first feature herald a volcano whose next eruption we can but eagerly anticipate.

Free from the formulaic constraints of Holywood three-act structure, this open-ended yet cohesive film has the probing ingredients of John Cassavetes' indie films, the biting sarcasm of early Neil LeButt and an ear for dialogue that is at times Woody Allen, at times Kevin Smith. More importantly, Dylan Kidd joins Paul Thomas Anderson and Todd Solondz in a small group of filmmakers who have authentic artistic integrity and courage to employ it where matters.

If recently released 'About a Boy' was made by an inquisitive French existentialist it would, inevitably, feel a lot like 'Roger Dodger'.

Categorized by mainstream critics as either comedy or romantic comedy, this is in fact a dark and biting urban drama. In a tour-de-force, career-boosting performance, Campbell Scott plays Roger, a tormented Manhattan advertising copyright permanently torn by his dichotomous love/hate relationship with women. Smooth-talker (as a boy he could talk his way out of any jam - hence his nickname 'Dodger'), he seems to be forever entrenched in a bloody battle against the (dis)order of things in the gender warfare. Mostly he is disturbed by what he sees as inevitable disappearance of male dominance and emerging female superiority. As a result of technological advances in the field of artificial insemination, he foresees a doomsday scenario of complete male subordination to ever-increasing female self-sufficiency.

Roger's disdain for women is only matched by his disdain for his profession. As he is quite successful in both fields, those two negative passions form the core of his misogynist personality. He is unwilling to come to terms with neither moral hypocrisy of his profession nor with the takeover by women of what have traditionally been exclusively male domains. He is a rebel of sorts, a verbose Don Quixotian figure with razor-sharp, foul-mouthed sarcasm as his deadly weapon.

When Roger's teenage nephew unexpectedly burst into his office and his life, a Pandora box of unresolved issues and unpleasant memories is unleashed.

Roger's nephew, Nick, is adroitly played by young Jesse Eisenberg. An archetypical American 16-year-old, Nick lives in sex-saturated, advertising-soaked culture where omnipresence of sex can hardly substitute for the lack of an adequate rite of passage into adulthood. Equally intrigued and encouraged by his uncles' notoriety as a lady's man, Nick turns up at Roger's Manhattan's Advertising Agency. The unannounced visit is a cry for help of an over-anxious, testosterone-driven and disoriented adolescent.

Nick and Roger's ensuing one-night escapade through the urban jungle of hip Manhattan's bars and after-hours sex-clubs is a slight but telling critique of our crude, insensitive and destructive methodology of male sexual initiation. In a climatic scene at a classy sex-club, Roger violently intervenes just when Nick is about to achieve what Roger sets out as their goal for the night - Nick's lost of virginity. In a sudden detour, Roger interrupts what was to be Nick's first sexual encounter with a cold, insensitive hooker. His abrupt change-of-hearts stems from his deep-seeded resentment he hopes Nick could be spared from. The movie's very last scene reveals what he wishes for Nick, and what he apparently never had - a sweet, innocent girl, an authentic romance. The last thing Roger wants for Nick is for him to grow up to be a disillusioned, bitter grown-up he has become.

On the other hand, the movie is a thinly disguised study of arrested development, emotional alienation and looming threats of growing up in advertising-tainted modern society. The choice of Roger's profession is nothing but intentional. It is, in fact, the cornerstone of the movie's dialectic. "I think of ways to make people feel bad," Roger says of his work.

Indeed, we live in an age where advertising is around-the-clock image-maker. Unfortunately, it carries the message "You're not okay the way you are." We are measured with external yardsticks and seduced into believing that the images projected at us are really who we should be. We can "get" okay, if we buy the right kind of car, wear the latest designer jeans, live in the better house, hang out at the right places. Rape of the psyche. Violation of the spirit. We are permanently scarred with arrested development and immaturity (Roger still harbors resentment and animosity towards his recently deceased father).

The psychological damages are particularly devastating to a young person entering adulthood. Adolescence is when we are most impressionable. As we mature we develop our own capacities to reason and think independently. Lies begin to unfold. Where does the adolescent turn for a new role model? How does he learn to be an adult? Resentment, anger, and frustration are born towards those who have presented an overly simplistic story, trying to protect us - parents, teachers, authority in general (Nick does not seem to be close to his father. He lives with his mother who is separated from her husband).

In supporting roles, movie's ladies - Isabella Rossellini, Elizabeth Berkley and Jennifer Beals - are utterly convincing.

The wobbly, hand-held cameras give 'Roger Dodger' a murky feel that is reminiscent of a Dogma-school of film-making. The movie is not easy to watch and requires a commitment from a viewer. The probing camera gives movie its intended tone - edgy, analytical and uncompromising.

Road to Perdition (2002)

Road To Pretension

[1/10 · 18 July 2002]

No miracle can save a film based on a bad script. An all-star cast may help its box-office opening, but will surely not add soul to a dead skeleton. Participation of an acting legend will add nothing other than diminish his own stature. A reputable editor will lack pieces for putting together an attractive mosaic. A hot-shot director can only do one thing with it - refuse to film it.

With mediocre screenplay the things will go from bad to worse. When a movie is mainly praised for its cinematography and its acting, its a smoking gun something's fishy. A producer attempting to film a flat script is on a creative suicide mission. It's somewhat like bluffing high stakes with a badly dealt hand.

Things are rotten in this sanctimonious depiction of 30's Irish mob. To be like my father or not to be? That is a puzzle confronting Michael Jr., a son of a dour mafia hit-man. Tom Hanks, emulating in turn Clint Eastwood's cool and Michael Madsen's brute, plays Micheal Sullivan, an enforcer for Chicago's alcohol mob boss John Rooney (Looney). The film is supposed to be about family and vengeance. About a mobster not wanting his son to follow in his father's footsteps. Hey, what about 'Godfather'? Couldn't Don Corleone's saga be titled, less imaginativly,

'Road to Perdition'. Isn't Perdition all Micheal Corlone has left at the end of the road? Choosing a theme and milieu for their movie identical to a recognized Hollywood landmark was certainly not a creative challenge for its producers (another father and son - the Zanucks). The monetary potentials of producing a popular graphic novel with expectations of a built-in teenage audience are more likely reason.

'Road to Perdition' has frustration and lameness leaking from all its sides. Its a downpour folks, take your umbrellas along! Hardly anything seems to work here. Mediocre opening and cheesy closing narration add insult to injury. Uninspired editing raises level of boredom to annoyance. No character development undermines credibility of relationships and caricatures some of its protagonists (Jude Law's Maguire, a psychotic hit man whom Capone's mob hires to take Sullivan out). An engaging yet unstoppable tidal wave of a musical score overwhelms nearly every scene, to an extent that, by the end of the movie, you wish you had a remote in your hand to turn the damn music off. Inconsistencies in plot twists and characterization demand unreasonable suspension of disbelief (Sullivan and Rooney together on a piano - come on, what is this, a period French costume drama!?). The film's major story thrust is in defiance with logic and gangster etiquette. (Connor, Rooneys son, decides to protect himself by exterminating Sullivan's wife and a kid!? It is quite unlikely that even a psycho would think Sullivan's son would blow the whistle on his own father.). Director's slippery thematic grasp muddles already turbulent waters. Infusing protagonists' interplay with late twenties sensitivities is another fatal flaw.

Proclaiming Sam Mandes an interesting director after his 'American Beauty' turns out a bit too premature.

A sampling of the hype bestowed on the movie is revealing of the corrupted state of mainstream movie criticism. Kenneth Turan of Los Angeles Times praises the movie as "resonant story with the potent, unrelenting fatalism of a previously unknown Greek myth".

New York Times Stephen Holden: "a period gangster film that achieves the grandeur of a classic Hollywood western". Peter Travers of Rolling Stone Magazine says the movie "...reveals something elemental about fathers and sons and the bloodlust that seems hard-wired into the American character...the passion and precision of 'Road to Perdition' is staggering".

One can't help but feel they all sound a little like corrupted Wall Street investment analysts praising WorldCom or Enron stocks right before their catastrophic collapse.

About a Boy (2002)

Nick Hornby's 1998 bestseller is turned into a funny and observant screenplay

[8/10 · 19 June 2002]

Nick Hornby's 1998 bestseller is turned into a lively screenplay written and co-directed by Chris and Paul Weitz ( the raunchy "American Pie"), also co-written by PeterHedges (a superb "What's Eating Gilbert Grape?"). The script compliments the classic Hornby sense of articulate Londoners driven by obsessive-compulsive pursuits. The peculiar creative powers behind the project turn out genuinely amusing and consistently entertaining film that boasts nicely rounded and amiable characters. By avoiding the syrup the picture doesn't fall into a predictable groove. It manages to avoid the banality of majority mainstream Hollywood romantic comedies but, regretfully, lacks the underlying philosophical concept(the brilliant "GroundHog Day") that could elevate it to a classic.

There are two significant London-centered trilogies that originated in the 1990s. One - the Richard Curtis triptych of "Four Weddings and a Funeral", "Notting Hill" and "Bridget Jones's Diaries" - has Hugh Grant starring in all of them. The other is the Nick Hornby trilogy of "Fever Pitch", "High Fidelity" and "About a Boy". Unlike in overpraised "High Fidelity", in which Stephen Frears, its British director (with John Cusack, a manic American equivalent to Grant) transferred that novel's plot from London to Chicago, the book's London setting is preserved here (apparently Chris Weitz has a first-hand understanding of English culture acquired during his studies at Cambridge).

"About a boy" - the name is a take on Nirvana's 'About a girl' - could have been titled just the same "About Two Boys". It is in essence a coming-of-age story squared. Not only is it about the smug and egocentric slacker and idle wealthy bachelor, Will Freeman, a character played by Grant, it is also about a pubescent loner dork, Marcus. Murcus' problems stem from his New Agey and seriously depressive mother who wishes to impose her rigid 1980s counter-cultural conformity on her son. Through his unlikely accord with Marcus, the story's catalyst, Will is eventually dragged kicking and screaming into the human race. Solipsists may be plugged into popular culture but they surely are utterly detached from actual people. 'Every man is an island' (Will lives his life as if his were Ibiza, a trendy European summertime playground ), but more often than not islands are invisibly connected into archipelagos. Island living may guarantee happy seclusion - 'Freeman' is all Will ever wants to be - but it also offers solitude and emotional retardation. "The Will Show" - aided by a series of great voice-over, self-satisfied pop referencing riffs - becomes an "ensemble drama". A cad ultimately is turned into a lad.

Will's life springs into uncharted territory with the discovery of a brand new world of attention-starved single moms waiting to be conquered. Commitment is the enemy and single moms make good lays. Single mothers are less demanding and easier to dump than single girls. He infiltrates SPAT - Single Parents Alone Together - a pick-up heaven of perfect dating prey.

Much of the film's success comes from Will Freeman's flashy politically incorrect characterization. He is a "selfish b*****d", in love with his lifestyle carefully scheduled into "units", with specific numbers of them allotted for one-night stands, expansive haircuts, cd-shopping, and watching TV game shows (It is not impossible that Hollywood may take notice of this phenomenon, leave studio cowardice aside and instead of endless and repetitive stream of anemic parts give us more colorful and unconventional characters). Hugh Grant brings Will's character to life in a grand manner. His versatile facial vocabulary, always with the hint of an edge, is fully tapped. Most male stars tend to be judged by their actions or the values they embody. With Grant, it is all about seeing thoughts and emotions cross and transform his face. Here, more subtly and convincingly than ever before. In "About a Boy", Grant is more than a star, he is a resource.

With this handsome production The Weitz Bro's are now giving Cameron Crowe a run for his mainstream pop money.

Amélie (2001)

Amelie, Je t'aime!

[5 March 2002]

You capture the soul of romance. Your sentimental nature delights, your imagination inspires.

You epitomize the quintessential European romantic fantasy.

You match `Forest Gump's ingenuity and fancy.

Ma chère Amelie, you remind me of how much I miss your soul mate - Audrey Hepburn.

We have romance, yes, we have `Splendor in the Grass', `Breakfast at Tiffany's', `Jerry Maguire', but to find you we'd have to go to France.

Monster's Ball (2001)

Tennessee Williams this ain't!

[4/10 · 17 February 2002]

'Monster's Ball' misses so many opportunities to engage, that, by the end, a breath of relief that this futile story has finally come to end is just about the only reward you'll get out of it. Other than some technical aspects of it, this lukewarm and pedestrian film has little to recommend it.

Notoriously failing to find its focus, 'MB' flirts with various humane and social issues (death raw, inter-racial affair), but miraculously ends without an honest attempt to tackle any of them. Where else but in Hollywood, could you get away with the fact that central conflict of the movie gets introduced minutes before the movie ends!?

The impotency revealed in filmmaker's resolution of it permeates the whole movie.

A.I. Artificial Intelligence (2001)

AI is not ET - much Artificiality, no Intelligence!

[4/10 · 30 June 2001]

One of the things that distinguishes two eminent careers, Kubrick's from Spielberg's, is that Kubrick had never made a melodramatic movie. Careful scrutiny of his work would show that he seems to have made careful career choices specifically to avoid it. On the contrary, Spielberg lavishly uses melodramatic elements in most of his movies. In A.I., Spielberg never tries to tame its inherent melodramatic nature. On the contrary, in this long, labored and deeply flawed movie melodrama is abundantly used, over-used and ultimately abused. The movie does not have even traces of Kubrick's signature elements - no virility, no originality and no ingenuity.

Spielberg, more often then not, caters to the lowest emotional denominator. Kubrick goes for the intellect. At its best(Color Purple, Schindler's List) Spielberg rivals Kubrick in the movie-making bravura. Commercial concerns have frequently contained his cinematic achievements though. His pampering to popular culture and the market place rather that to more cultivated audiences regretfully reduces his stature as an auteur.

You don't want to feel like walking out on a Spielberg movie. Not on Spielberg. But, you don't want to feel exploited and manipulated by a movie. Not by Spielberg's.

Memento (2000)

Forget about it!

[1/10 · 27 March 2001]

An empty theatrical experience. A dull movie with no emotional core. Clever editing substitutes for lack of substance and dramatic appeal. Christopher Nolan's failed attempted to invent an original narrative structure.

The only intriguing aspect of this glossy Hollywood film disguised as daring indie is the fact it has received accolades from movie critics as well as average movie fans. 'Memento' is so smartly put together that both groups lack the courage to say that the movie is a failure and a bore for fear of not coming out ignorant and unsophisticated.

Long ago it was observed by Pauline Keal that art house audience accepts lack of clarity as complexity, accepts clumsiness and confusion as 'ambiguity' and as style. If you thought 'Limey' was pretentious, wait 'til you see this. Or, better yet, don't!

Just forget about it!

Widow of St. Pierre (2000)

Shouldn't have been made

[2/10 · 10 March 2001]

Shallow and unconvincing. Although it strives to examine finer virtues of human character it fails to produce any significant emotional response. Characters are undeveloped to an annoying extent. At times it appears that the director did not know which way to go with their development. Leconte never seriously probes their depths and motivation. Intended to glorify subtler elements in human nature the movie irritates with its sketchy characterization and thin, pretentious plot-line. After seeing this movie and Girl On the Bridge, it is quite a mystery to this reviewer that Patrice Leconte seems to be the darling of the American film critics.