There Was Once A Blue Bandit...

Tarsem's The Fall captures your eye from the beginning. It's been a long time since I've seen a film like The Fall where every shot is constructed with such amazing beauty and excitement. From The Fall's opening scene, shot in slow motion black and white, to a surgery scene involving stop-motion animation, to scenes shot with incredible colour, sets and costumes, The Fall never stops exploring the power of the image.

The Fall follows a very 'Wizard of Oz' plot structure where there's the 'real' and the 'fantasy' and actors cross over these two stories. The 'real' is set in a California hospital where a young Indian girl and a Hollywood stunt actor encounter one another. The stuntman, Roy (Lee Pace) begins to tell the little girl, Alexandria (Catinca Untaru), an extraordinary tale about five men trying to gain revenge on a man who did them wrong, Governor Odious (Daniel Caltagirone). As Roy continues his story, he begins to ask Alexandria to do favors for him before he continues his tale. These tasks involve Alexandria to go and steal morphine for Roy who, we soon realize, wishes to commit suicide. As the story continues, it begins to mirror Roy's story of how he became suicidal and his motivation for befriending the little girl.

The 'real' story and its relation with the 'fantasy' grows impressively intricate. The entire 'fantasy' story is shown through the imagination of Alexandria and how she sees the story and images told to her by Roy. As the two stories progress, connecting the two's images and characters becomes a real delight. The celebrity at the California hospital who stole Roy's love interest is the same actor who plays Governor Odious and the suit worn by the x-ray operator at the hospital is the same suit of armor worn by Odious' army. The story impressively holds its weight when compared to the images. Though this is very much a visual spectacle, the story is what pulls one in. But it's not only the intricacies of the story that truly impressed me, but also the realism included when dealing with the insecurities of the storyteller when it comes to telling a story to a child. Several times in the film, the 'fantasy' plot is interrupted by Alexandria who asks broad and simple questions expected from a child, like "Why?" and so forth. 

 However, the images are by far the most impressive part of The Fall. The sets and settings are immense, the colours are vibrant and imaginative in their presentation, the costumes are ingenious and the few instances of choreography are absolutely jaw dropping. Several shots jump to my mind when discussing these characteristics. A scene involving a funeral in the middle of a mountainous dessert is shot beautifully in wide, immense shots showing the blood of the fallen climbing up wall of white fabric. This explanation gives it no justice. The picture provided above shows a scene involving the resurrection of the Mystic. This scene is probably the scene that stood out the most for me. The sweeping cameras over the incredibly choreographed native dance makes one feel as if you are amongst the spirits the witch doctor is trying to summon. Again, a scene completely indescribable. 

The Fall is a film that one could watch over and over again and still be amazed by the epic scenery. Every shot is near perfection when considering both itself and its relation amongst the rest of the film. There isn't a single cinematic detail that I can think of where The Fall didn't execute it with precision and imagination. I can safely say that this was one of the most exciting films this year had to offer. The Fall presented a world and a story that causes one to regress into childhood and reminds us of the significance we used to put upon our simple imagination when younger.  

15 Minutes For Everyone

Synecdoche - a figure of speech in which a part is made to present the whole or vice versa, as in England lost in six wickets (meaning `the English cricket team`)

-Oxford English Dictionary

Could Charlie Kaufman's use of this word and its definition have anything to do with the interpretation of his directorial debut, Synecdoche, New York? It could, but it probably doesn't, so let's not worry ourselves too much about the word and its meaning, but about the film and its purpose. Synecdoche is a film deeply dependent on the emotions of the characters and less so on the film's narrative. Kaufman ignores an eventful plot and instead tries to focus more on the emotional reactions of his character's and where these emotions lead them. these emotions are incredibly universal and Kaufman focuses on things that cause anyone to feel and sense of emotion. the motions are almost palpable due to Kaufman's use of certain motifs. To create a film of such emotional strength, Kaufman manipulates our sense of time and puts great emphasis on death and human relationships and their importance in our lives, all while keeping a consistently comical atmosphere. Overall, this film is a film solely based on levels of human emotions and therefore cannot be properly described through criticism, but how does Kaufman make Synecdoche one of the most emotional, original and one of the best experiences I've had this year at the cinema?

To be blunt, plot is of no interest to me when discussing this film. However, I'll provide a short synopsis of the film's general narrative. Caden Cotard, played by Philip Seymour Hoffman, is a somewhat successful playwright. Caden, after a weird accident involving a sink, soon becomes a hypochondriac and begins to become obsessed with death. The symptoms seem to increase for Caden when his wife, Adele (Catherine Keener), leaves with their daughter, Olive (Sadie Goldstein). Caden is then shockingly awarded the MacArthur genius grant and begins a stage production that will explore life and the 'real' to their full extent. The production soon takes on humongous proportions as Caden becomes increasingly obsessed with the project.

Kaufman really makes a strong effort in manipulating Caden's and, in doing so, the audience's sense of time. time seems to slip by incredibly fast in this film causing anxiety and feeling of lost time and opportunity. Kaufman really emphasises time in the opening scene, which proves the significance of time in Kaufman's film. The first shot of the film is of an alarm clock buzzing and saying 7:45. Soon Caden begins to read a newspaper at the breakfast table and begins to read the obituary column, announcing every famous death to his wife. We then get a glimpse of the newspaper saying November 5, 2005. Kaufman makes sure that we know what time the film is set in so that we have a sort of reference point. After breakfast, Caden is hit in the head with a faucet tap that explodes off the sink while he's brushing his teeth. This can be regarded as the ignition point of the film because it's from this point onwards that Caden's senses, including his sense of time, begin to fade and the film's structure begins to get just as disorientating as Caden's view of the world. An early example of time being manipulated to create this disorientating feeling is when Caden visits an ophthalmologist who was recommended by the doctor in the emergency room when Caden received stitches for his forehead after the faucet incident. The scene involving the eye specialist is shown a few scenes after the emergency visit. We can see in the background a calender saying March 2006, meaning six months have passed since the accident. Also, Caden makes a weird comment during his appointment, thanking the doctor for allowing him to come at such short notice. Due to the little amount of time that has passed and Caden's comment, disorientation sets in, creating, for myself, a very anxious feeling. The exploration of the relationship between the characters and the time factor truly amplifies the emotions of the film because time is truly the driving force behind many of the character's decision in the film, whether they be good or bad.

It's Kaufman's exploration of human relations and death that offer Synecdoche's most sorrowful and hilarious moments. There are several moments where death and comedy are mixed together. one outstanding moment is when Hazel (Samantha Morton) decides to buy a burning house. Hazel enters the house and a real estate agent is giving her the pitch. Though Hazel has always dreamed of owning and this one was perfect for such a cheap price, due to the fire, she still worried about the fire and it possibly having an effect on how she dies. Hazel still buys the house which we see when she invites Caden over. The metaphor to be found in Hazel's burning house can vary, but one thing is for sure, it's absolutely ridiculous and hilarious. Human relationship are also often looked at in a very comedic manner while always recognizing its seriousness and negative effect it could have on a the character. In one scene, Caden discovers where his ex-wife is living. In hope of finding Adele and his daughter, Caden tracks down the apartment and is met by an old man an woman waiting by Adele's apartment door. They ask whether or not Caden was the cleaning lady. Caden replies yes and the old woman explains that Adele left the key for the cleaning lady. Caden takes the key and goes inside. After reveling in the environment of the woman he still loves, Caden begins to clean Adele's apartment with incredibly vigour. After his night of maidenly work, Caden continues to return to the apartment, both cleaning and trying to grasp on to something that could fulfill his need for Adele, while acting as Adele's cleaning lady.

Synecdoche is truly a film that must be experience first-hand. the emotions flowing through you as you watch the film are memorable. It's quite hard to forget your experience with this film. It truly latches on to you and never let's go. the techniques and imagery used by Kaufman in this film are mesmerizing and thought provoking. Kaufman wanted to create a piece of work that would influence conversation and he certainly succeeded because Synecdoche presents a story and several situations that aren't incredibly different from many people's lives.

The Story of Armin Meiwes and Bernd Jurgen Brandes

Directed by Marian Dora, Cannibal (2005) was the inspiration for me to begin a blog. This inspiration is very much different than what one would expect. I guess it didn't so much inspire me as much as it gave me this feeling of immediacy, a feeling that the film should be acknowledged and written about. I couldn't watch the film in its entirety without covering my eyes and taking a walk away from it for a moment. Cannibal is the most repugnant and disgusting film I've yet to see and I'm quite experienced with films of intense and morbid nature. I've seen films like Cannibal Holocaust, which shocked my friends but left me quite surprised at their reaction since I was relatively unscathed, Passolini's Salo: 120 Days of Sodom, which impressed me with its artistry that its content could be easily ignored, and Gaspar Noé's Irreversible, which is also incredibly artistic, but the first half hour is definitely a good time not to eat or to have just eaten. However, these three films, among many others considered unconventionally violent and morbid, had not effected me as much as Cannibal.

Cannibal is based upon the incredible story of two German men who met online; one who's desire is to eat a man with certain physical qualities and another who wishes to be eaten. The real men are named Armin Meiwes, the man who desires to eat, and Bernd Jurgen Brandes, the man who wishes to be eaten. However, in this film, Meiwes is titled as the Human, played by Carsten Frank and Brandes is titled as the Flesh, played by Victor Brandl. When these two men meet, they fully express their desires. The camera seems to have a fixation on the mouths, hands and genitals of the two men. As the Flesh explains his desire, he does so with a saliva drenched lisp and the camera focuses on his mouth's movements and moisture. Before any violent act takes place, the two men create an incredible relationship, shown in a very off-beat and oddly disturbing montage. At one moment, the men are playing Bocce ball naked on a beautiful day, another moment, the two are having passionate and violent sex. But, soon enough, the two must delve into their desires and act upon them. However, the Human shows some hesitance and the Flesh decides to return home. However, at the train station, the Human convinces the Flesh to come back and both men's desires are fulfilled in some of the most elongated scenes of violence I have experienced.

The film tries, and succeeds, in capturing an air of transcendence by employing certain tactics. As previously mentioned, the two main characters are titled as The Man and The Flesh in its end credits. As well, there's barely any dialogue (which is English). In fact, the first twenty minutes don't include any dialogue at all, but include many scenes involving the Man's interaction with people in a village. Frank does a good job of physically communicating to the camera the emotions of his conversations with others without over exaggerating. The film's setting is also very much discrete. The only indication of Germany is the Man's village, which has architecture which is very much German. But most of the film includes scenes outside, dominated by green, or are inside the Man's house, which is dominated by darkness. This sense of transcendence is one the film's strongest tool in creating a sense of realism and in creating a connection between the film and its viewers.

However, it wasn't the film's subject matter that got to me so much as it was the images and their construction. The film is incredibly digital with pixelation occurring often. This type of image resolution really adds to the film's realism, very much in the same way that grain or black and white on a celluloid film can create realism. There's also a delay between the actor's dialogue and their lip movement. Whether done on purpose or not, this desynchronization really leaves one incredibly uneasy. The editing is also incredibly disjointed. A very disorienting experience is created by the editing which uses jump-cuts and multiple cuts within a single scene. Another aspect that struck me was the film's lighting, or lack off. During scenes of torture, an example being a scene where the Flesh asks the Human to bite off his penis, the room is dimly lit with candles. Another example being a scene during the Human's butchering of the Flesh after his death. The kitchen where the scene is set in is, again, dimly lit with this eerie and cold light shining through the kitchen's windows. Overall, it's the film's jumpy cohesion and convincing realism that creates a very provoking and queasy experience.

Though these examples are important to the film's tone, horror films today must have impressive special effects to take that sense of realism up a notch and as expected, Cannibal does not lack. As I said, I was not able to fully watch certain scenes and these scenes included scenes of convincing effects, one example being a scene involving disembowelment. However, one scene that included repulsively compelling special effects was a scene involving the castration of the Flesh where the camera unflinchingly watches every stroke of the Human's knife. After the castration, the bloody "remains" begin urinating, again without the camera shying away at all. The special effects are indescribable. The film is efficient in making you wonder exactly how they did all this.

Most of the elements used in Cannibal are very popular in horror films today. However, these elements were weaved together better than the majority of its contemporaries and created a disturbing and original experience. Also, unlike most horror films today where realism is created through a sort of nihilism where all hope is gone, Cannibal, in its weird way, embraces life and its weird occurrences. After all, the men, in the end, attain their unusual dream. Cannibal is successful in studying an extraordinary case involving the primitive relationship of "the hunter" and "the hunted" when applied to the complexities of everyday humans.

I warn you, do not think that this review will take the edge off of the film. There's several incredibly disturbing scenes and details that I decided to leave out. SEVERAL!

Weird Fact:

There's a weird choice of actors to play these roles. Victor Brandl, playing the Flesh, looks very much like Brandes, while Carsten Frank who play the Human looks nothing at all like Meiwes. Why was this decision made. My suggestion, everyone has "the hunter" desire in them, only a few have "the hunted" desire in them.