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vincentywang
Reviews
Bu jian (2003)
Self-indulgence is the name of the game
I agree with my Czech buddy: this is a total waste of time---an inept, pretentious, boring, ugly distortion of life. A wretched exploitation film.
What does it exploit? To name a few: (1) the wretchedness of old-age loneliness; (2) our guilt at finding the characters somewhat annoying and ourselves less than full-heartedly sympathetic; (3) the tolerance of art-house audience for inadequate narrative and threadbare characterization.
You would think that out of the extraordinary tedium and pointlessness, something unusual may be found; originality of any kind can nevertheless be the last saving-grace. But none is to be found. The bag of tricks is pretty flat: oh yes, Lee did see his Kieslowski alright. There is a scattering of visual clues that re-emerge from time to time, as in "Red", and we may pick up as glue to tie the nondescript narrative together. The painted canvas, the shreds of newspapers, the rear mirror view from a motor cycle, etc. And in case you think Lee is not well-versed in Brunuel, the deliberate voyeurism of the camera placement is supposed to make us roll over and extol the virtue of a new auteur.
But art is not the sum of trickery. Punishing one's audience does not warrant worship. Not all of us are masochistic.
Funny Games (1997)
Great movie that people love to hate
After seeing this film, I can no longer bear to watch the stylishly violent Hollywood pulps: they do not only seem pointless, but simply obscene! In the strong light of reality offered by Haneke, the Hollywood "perspective" on violence becomes not only boring, but downright immoral.
This is what violence really is: unpredictable, extreme, sordid, pointless, and tragically relevant. It is interesting to note that the film is hardly gory---more attention is given to violence's physical and psychological aftermath on the victims, which are sadly given little notice by Hollywood. As we can see from previous comments, the victims' powerlessness inspires violence in some, and anger (towards the director) in others. Haneke refuses to give the audience any relief---no cavalry charging against the bad guys, nor payoff for the good. That's why he's so hated by so many. But I hope that some can still see his uncompromising honesty. Haneke is the greatest realistic moralist now working in world cinema.
I have the feeling of having my hair relentlessly pulled back when the violence gets too much to watch. Who ever says that violence is just???
I feel that after this experience, I can no longer talk about violence with the glibness that so many others still try so hard to hang on to.
9 out of 10.
French Connection II (1975)
Rhythm's off, but still got moments
Not as tight in structure as the first one, nor as disciplined in editing, nor as innovative in cinematography. The "drugged" scenario is twenty minutes too long; so is the arsonry. And the stereotype of boisterous, foolish American is laid on too thick at times.
But nevertheless packed with what I call moments of gusto, when a scene is imaginatively thought out, then masterfully executed. Examples: the ending scene, of Popeye's chase and the unexpected shooting of Charnier, where the camerawork and editing is admirable. Or at the bar, where Popeye ogled the girls and fraternised the bar-tender; very atmospheric, very revealing of a character that feels uncomfortable with the world and with himself.
White Sands (1992)
Awful suspense movie
The plot is extremely lame even for a suspense movie. Viewers' high expectation easily turns into disappointment.
Here is also one of Defoe's worst performances. Maybe he shouldn't have tried to smile and grin "a la Rourke"; or maybe the poor guy is just embarassed silly by the implausible and contrived story.
Samuel Jackson, in his pre-Pulp-Fiction existence, suffers from a sad lack of screen presence. On the other hand, Rourke's "charisma", if you choose to call his oily self that, proves to be indestructable. But why bother?
4 out of 10.
He ni zai yi qi (2002)
New low for Chen Kaige
God awful melodrama that would torpedo the career of any Western auteur regardless of his/her previous accomplishments. But the market is China, where Jin Yong, a kung-fu pulp-fiction master, is worshipped for profundity; and the audience is Chinese, for whom anti-intelletualism is at present the order of the day, and feel-goodism the mantra of "artistic" creation.
The one-penny question is: what the hell is Chen thinking? If he tried to capture a bigger segment of the market and turn a profit, the Chinese passion for pirated copies would have made his efforts futile. Maybe Chen is a great humorist who is making fun of the cheap pulp sentiments of Chinese mass. But it seems beyond human ability for a erst-while great director to keep a straight face throughout this rubbish.
Or maybe Chen is the greatest artistic poseur who has ever lived, who faked greatness in spite of his innate commercial vulgarity. But how could one say this about the maker of "Grand Parade", one of the truly humanist films that my unfortunate homeland ever makes, and the master behind "Emperor and Assasin", a flawed film yet filled with imaginative psychological plausibility?
Jing Ke ci Qin Wang (1998)
Better upon second viewing
Chen Kaige lost his sense of tempo. I envy Europeans and Americans who can watch the film without following the dialog with their ears, because it is painful to do: slow, unnaturally heavy, and over-deliberate. But Westerners, on the other hand, suffer from the poor quality of subtitle translation, which manages to lose all the subtlety and double meanings that make a careful study of the film so much fun.