Relish Foreign Films: Let The Right One In Film Review

Originally published as a Westwind blog entry


My favorite film of 2008. Totally should have been nominated for an Oscar. The Academy sucks.

Recently I had the opportunity to see Let The Right One In, the Swedish vampire film that recently won a bunch of awards at several film festivals, including the Rotten Tomatoes Consensus Award (when I last checked, it had only ten reviews but all of them were positive, giving it 100% on rottentomatoes.com) and Best Narrative Feature at the Tribeca Film Festival.

I didn't know much about it going in - I didn't even bother to watch the trailer, partially because I feel like a lot of trailers these days give a misleading impression of the actual movie, probably for marketing reasons more than anything else - but I must say, Let The Right One In is one of the best horror movies I've seen in a long time. Watching it reminded me of how much I love foreign films, and not just because they contain wonderful subtitles that keep you better on par with the basic plotline.

I like foreign films because they tend to deviate from the typical blockbuster clichés that Hollywood loves to spoon-feed us. Even though many (okay, most) of the horror scenes were rather campy and purposely outrageous, their flawless execution made them entertaining to watch on-screen. I don't know, maybe I have a thing for vampire movies, but my usual dislike for slasher flicks (or gratuitous violence for no real purpose other than to shock the audience) was momentarily suspended when I watched certain scenes last night. Although in hindsight the movie itself was by no means a slasher film and thinking back on it, most of the serious violence occurred off-screen anyway.

The cinematography and casting were both really well done and I loved the actress who played Eli, a 12-year old vampire. There was just something truly alien about her that drew the audience in- maybe it was in the way her eyes would change colors depending on the lighting in the scene (sometimes they looked completely black, other times a murky blue) or how she looked so young but sounded and smiled like someone who's seen the ways of the world. Whatever it was, this actress pulled off the role tremendously well. Her sophistication in the movie made me wonder how old the actual actress is, so I tried googling her afterwards but nothing really came up (a downside of watching non-mainstream movies).

The romance in the film was a good offset to the dark undertone as well - not too overboard but still a good backdrop for the story that unfolds. I remember one reviewer

on rottentomatoes.com comparing it to Twilight (you can read it here), the international bestseller also involving vampire-human romance that’s coincidentally going to hit theaters soon, and I was somewhat irritated because when I think of Twilight, I automatically think one-dimensional.

Stephanie Meyer doesn't ever really show Edward gnawing on a human's neck or describe what his face looks like right after he's had a meal (not very pleasant, unless you enjoy the sight of blood). In Let the Right One In, vampires are savages, serious predators who aren't afraid to hunt and destroy in order to survive (and when they bite you, it hurts), and the filmmakers don't shy away from showing it – all of it. At the same time, the savage nature of the typical vampire is also heavily nuanced, as in one minute I was thinking, "Man, that Eli girl is downright VICIOUS!" (Does the fact that I say this somewhat with a sense of glee make me a bad person?) and another minute: "Oh, poor little vampire girl...She desperately needs a hug."

Needless to say, I think all things worth watching should have nuances of gray in what seems to be a black and white situation. I refuse to see things purely in black and white for the same reasons why I dislike the blockbuster genre (as a general rule - though there are certain blockbuster movies I enjoy) : 1) It's predictable, which often leads to boredom, and 2) It's not realistic. Now by realistic I don't mean realistic in the sense that it could happen in real life as we know it today – this would totally rule out any sci-fi or fantasy potential, which are two genres I've grown to really like. But realistic as in: Can I see it happening in an alternate universe where all things are possible and yet, somehow life still makes sense at the end? It's a paradox, I know, and I'm not so sure I understand it myself. But it's like that one Nietzsche quote:

"There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness."

Now replace "love" with "movies" and that's what I mean when I use the word "realistic." Not every detail in a film has to make sense in the long run (although the ones that do are usually good films), but when too many of the details don’t make sense, or are just plain absurb, the sheer lack of coherency, as well as lack of believability (in the same loose sense that I've been using these rather concrete terms), makes the story annoying rather than endearing.

Now this is not to say that I don't enjoy a little absurdity every now and then, because I do (I really liked The Science of Sleep, for example, and half of that movie went right over my head. The style of Requiem for a Dream was also appealing for the same reason. And don't get me started about The Dreamers). I just don't like walking away from a movie feeling like the filmmaker made it just because he could, that he made the movie because he's a filmmaker and that's what filmmakers do. Just because you can do something doesn't mean you should. If you're going to do something, make some effort to do it well.

To some extent, I believe in Oscar Wilde's philosophy, or the notion that “all art is useless,” sheerly for the sake of being art, but still, that art should mean something to you at the end of the day. It should mean something to its audience. There's nothing worse than taking the time to experience something, whether it be a movie, a book, or a song, and feeling completely indifferent about it afterwards. I'd much rather hate a movie than feel indifferent about it. I would rather think, "This movie sucks because of this or that" rather than, "I could have spent the last two hours doing something else and it wouldn't have made any difference at all." Now that's sad.

Speaking of which, that's sort of how I felt when I read the last Twilight book, Breaking Dawn. I read it because it was out there (and yes, my curiosity does often get the better of me), not because it offered anything particularly innovative or worthwhile. The writing started off terrible. The story became terrible. And the characters all became mere caricatures of themselves - i.e. without nuances.

So please, don't compare Let The Right One In to Twilight, of all things. For me, it gave off a more Interview with a Vampire vibe than anything else.

Perfume: A chillingly satisfying aroma

Awesome movie. Amazing book.

Originally written in October 2007

As everyone has probably already guessed, Halloween is just around the corner (possibly wearing a translucent white mask, wielding a sharp axe in its hand). While the holiday means different things for different people, there are some traditions that have fought their way through time and remain fun, as well as classic, forms of celebration for people of all ages.

One such tradition is of course the universal ritual that is scary movies. Admit it; we all like to be scared from time to time, even if what scares us sometimes keeps us up at night. But if it’s Halloween we’re probably all going to be up anyway. And one of the great things about living in the dorms is that you’re never alone.

Popular Halloween movies in this day and age are often slasher flicks that leave queasy feelings in one’s stomach or an unwanted image lingering in the darkness. But sometimes we come across that equally notable psychological thriller that plays with our minds as well as our senses, teasing out the vulnerable parts with a quick sleight of hand and a sickening smile. We’ve all seen movies like The Exorcist, Psycho, and Saw, blockbuster chillers that do much more than just make us scream.

Perfume: The Story of a Murderer, a 2006 thriller based on the international bestseller by Patrick Suskind, is not your average Halloween movie. The villain is not particularly bloodthirsty nor is he on a relentless rampant for revenge. Quite the contrary - at times he appears to exhibit the kind of indifference towards humankind that trademarks cinematic villains such as Hannibal and Jigsaw. And that’s exactly what makes him so dangerous.

A killer without a conscience, Jean-Baptiste Grenouille will stop at nothing to get what he wants, even if it means reducing the lives of dozens of beautiful girls to nothing more than heads of shorn hair and naked bodies tossed aside like pretty little rag dolls. Curious? I don’t blame you. The title itself has intriguing implications; since when has a serial killer killed using the power of scent?

Part mystery and part sadist, Perfume is a subtle but lingering film set in 18^th century Paris that has the potential to engage your senses (particularly the sense of smell) through a chilling and somewhat preposterous (but in a fun way) plot about desire and those who have too much of it.

Will wonders ever cease? Watch Tokyo!

Originally published in The Daily Bruin on March 12, 2009


Bizarre films do not always make for good movies, nor do city-centered cinematic pieces always successfully capture the setting in which they are set.

But for "Tokyo!", a series of anticipated shorts by acclaimed directors Joon-Ho Bong, Leos Carax, and Michel Gondry which all revolve around the same grand (and sometimes grandiose) metropolis, its unlikely fusion of horror, humor, and fantasy is exactly what an audience needs. Both chills and thrills abound in each of these three omnibus mini-works, portraying and critiquing different sides of Tokyo in an eccentric, unapologetic way that perhaps only foreigners to the city are capable of.

Joon-Ho Bong (“The Host”) and Leos Carax (“Boy Meets Girl”) both supply amusing pieces that focus on opposing ends of the human spectrum. “Shaking Tokyo,” directed by Joon-Ho-Bong, centers on the quiet but content life of a young hikkimori, or social recluse, who has his whole world crashing down on him, literally as well as figuratively, when a girl and an earthquake occupy his home at the same time. Bong’s examination of the nuances in human emotion, as well as one’s crippling fear of the outside world, is nicely juxtaposed with long shots of the city streets as both peaceful and chaotic.

Carax’s “Merde” (translated as “Shit” in French) is not as subtle in its portrayal of the frank versus the timid in a decidedly urban landscape. The main protagonist of “Merde,” a green-clad, milky-eyed pseudo-human by the same name, has no apparent problem venturing out of his underground cave in order to terrorize the more civilized, albeit less colorful, population above. Mixing wonder and delight with disgust and intrigue, Carax’s feature is an unabashed attempt to defamiliarize the trauma that accompanies social and political disorder. While Merde seemingly lacks a concrete identity or even a recognizable nationality, his sardonic remarks regarding race and individuality leaves the viewer with an uncomfortable sense of the familiar. Using his protagonist as a catalyst, Carax shows us that even a city as widely appealing as Tokyo can look threatening from an outsider’s perspective.

But ultimately it is Michel Gondry’s “Interior Design,” the first of the three shorts, which is best at engaging the audience’s senses and sympathy with the interiors of Tokyo and its diverse, yet all too human, inhabitants.

Gondry, most famous for curious indie hits such as “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” and “Be Kind Rewind,” delivers the same charismatic story-telling technique in “Interior Design,” a darkly comedic short featuring a young couple struggling to adapt to their new lives in a city that at times appears to swallow them whole, a foreshadowing of the very unexpected, but very welcome, Kafka-esque twist that occurs at the end. Combining the absurd with the common in a way that only Gondry is capable of, “Interior Design” takes us to various parts of Tokyo that are often easy to overlook – including the ominous cracks between buildings, the inner workings of a wrapping paper store, and even the interior of what appears to be an apartment complex made entirely out of meticulously stacked washing machines. Gondry’s vision of a small pair in a big world is strangely eerie, sometimes to the point where we aren’t sure whether to laugh or cringe (or both, awkwardly), but it’s the odd but pervasive blend of the two that keeps us constantly on the edge of our seats, eagerly awaiting the next surprise.

Similar to the city it pays homage to, “Tokyo!” is a wonderful meshing of the ordinary with the extraordinary, a cinematic achievement as dynamic as the three directors who headline it.

Why I Love The Dark Knight

Original blog entry written during the summer

"Why so serious?" Because it can be!

Warning: Contains Spoilers

I’ve watched The Dark Knight three times – twice in theaters, once in IMAX. And I’ve loved it every single time.

From the strictly unbiased perspective of someone who’s gone out of her way to watch one movie three times over the course of two weeks, I simply can’t understand how anyone could not like something as awesome (as well as enthralling, gripping, and wonderfully made) as The Dark Knight.

Any movie that's just as compelling the third time around is a good movie in my book, especially when that movie falls just short of two and a half hours. I didn't feel bored for one second, even though I already knew most of the lines and Heath Ledger's performance wasn't nearly as grueling as before. It was still brilliant; it's just that the fear generated from many of his scenes stems from an element of surprise, or suspense, which obviously becomes moot the third time around.

If someone were to ask me what exactly I loved about this movie, I would be tempted to say “everything.” However, if I had to pin it down to just one thing, I would say that I love it because it's so dark. I like that it's a superhero movie done well, and probably one of the very few out there, that's not geared towards kids. Like one reviewer commented, "Transformers was for kids. The Dark Knight is for adults."

True, one could watch The Dark Knight as merely another hero-driven action flick, the kind where epic battles showcasing good vs. evil (Batman vs. The Joker, good cop vs. bad cop) are rampant throughout every other scene, and there are enough explosions, plot twists, and general bouts of ass-kicking prevalent to keep even the most restless viewer entertained. But to enjoy this movie on merely the entertainment level would be missing out on so many other layers that the film contains.

These layers, I feel, are what differentiate The Dark Knight from the majority of superhero movies (or even just movies in general) out there. They're what make it that much better than movies like Ironman, which have a lot of the same glitz but not nearly the same amount of heart and insight.

Ironman is downright entertaining, and the special effects are certainly superb, but it doesn't stay with you the same way that The Dark Knight does. And the character development definitely pales in comparison – I couldn’t sympathize with the character of Tony Stark at any point of the movie. Sure, he was a cool guy, cool enough to shoulder pretty much the entire movie on his own iron-clad shoulders, but that's pretty much all he was. Batman doesn't come out as the hero (in fact, you could maybe say that he doesn't do nearly as much ass-kicking as others do to him, and by the good guys no less), and The Dark Knight is not a feel-good movie, but that's precisely what makes it so original and worth watching.

To put it on plain and simple terms, this movie is not happy, not in the slightest. The good guys don't really win. The female lead dies, in a horrible, drawn-out way in which the audience doesn't even get to hear her last words to her honorable-but-ultimately-helpless boyfriend. The bad guys get away with some pretty horrendous stuff. And in the end there is no happily ever after, not in this movie and probably not in the next installment, if that ever comes. There is a resolution, but it's not one that will leave you easily satisfied and heavily sedated with the contented feeling that all is right with the world and that the brighter bits of humanity will always come out on top after all.

But come to think of it, I've never enjoyed a movie with an ending like that, the kind that sacrifices potential poignancy for a cookie-cutter version of life. I don't end up feeling happy and light-hearted, only mildly disgusted. Cheated, even. I don’t watch movies to escape from life, I watch movies to embrace life – the good, the bad, and the ugly.

To diverge a bit, one example of a cookie-cutter movie would be The Lake House, starring Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves. I totally think Reeves’s character should have died at the end. That's where the movie was headed, and it would have made much more sense if that was the ultimate conclusion, but no, Hollywood, being what it is, had to make the happy couple reunite in some unfathomable, gag-worthy version of Disney's famous (infamous) happily-ever-after. After that disaster I decided to stay away from chick flicks and Disney-inspired movies as much as possible. Happy endings are acceptable under certain circumstances, but not when its only purpose is so that the movie can be called "cute." Thanks, but no thanks.

The Dark Knight is about as far away from The Lake House as you can get. Very little of the movie is cliché, despite the fact that it depicts one of the most recognized comic-book heroes of all time. I won't deny that it does take a toll on the emotions when one scene after another depicts tragedy and further illuminates the darker side of the humanity (save for one scene, which does the very opposite), but more often that not, that's the price you pay for seeing a "serious" movie.

And you know what? It's so worth it. So you don't get your happy ending after all. Big deal. You get so much more than that if you actually pay attention to what the film's trying to say, rather than whining that it isn't what you expected (or wanted).

They say third time's the charm, but not when it comes to a movie this good. Speaking from the perspective of someone who's already watched seven and a half hours' worth of dark chivalry, The Dark Knight has plenty of charm left for a fourth or even fifth viewing.

Milk

Recently I had the opportunity to see a second viewing of Milk, Gus Van Sant's latest masterpiece. Needless to say, I was even more impressed by it the second time around. Every single performance in that movie was powerful in its own unique way, and I found myself completely drawn into its portrayal of San Francisco in the 1970s.

At the risk of sounding painfully cliche, I felt like I was there, not so much as a spectator but as someone who was mentally and emotionally engaged in the fight for equality and gay rights (which are one and the same, in my opinion). A little far-fetched, sure, but honestly, the world they showed, although occurring about 3 decades earlier, is strikingly similar to the world I see around me now. At one point I almost forgot that I was watching a movie and felt like I was back home -- or somewhere nearby. The use of original footage for both the area and for one of the film's dominant characters, anti-gay singer Anita Bryant (who's gotta be one of the most insufferable human beings in existence), made for a truly authentic, hauntingly realistic touch.

Milk's finest attribute, however, lies in its ability to keep the viewer emotionally involved throughout the entirety of the film - not by lauding Harvey Milk as a martyr or public figure devoid of all fault and criticism, but by portraying him as a flesh-and-blood, true-to-life human being. One who makes mistakes, who sometimes gets too carried away with his own agenda to be as loving and committed as he wants to be, who has regrets and misgivings and doubts -- but at the end of the day, you know he's someone who's willing to give up everything for something he truly believes in. The heart of the film lies in Milk's compassion, rather than in his achievement, and that's what amazed me most while watching the film. I think this both contributes to the universal appeal of, as well as presents the biggest challenge for, Milk and other biopic films like it - how do you make a specific character belonging to a specific movement resonate with a diverse audience?

For me, the most powerful moment in the film was a private one. It wasn't when Sean Penn was standing in front of a large crowd, delivering epic speeches about hope and equality and perseverance, although those were as inspirational and as eloquent as any speech I've heard regarding the gay rights movement (props to UCLA alumnus Dustin Lance Black for crafting such a heartfelt and moving screenplay -- seriously).

But the scene that moved me most was one that occurred near the very end, almost as an afterthought, and something you could have easily skimmed over in the mist of the greater story unfolding at the forefront. It was the scene just after Sean Penn had gotten home from the opera and he calls up Scotty (his former lover, played by James Franco) and they have a phone conversation that, even in its brevity, just pulls at the heart and makes you realize just how fragile their love, or any love, really, is. There is this moment when Sean Penn says, in a voice coated with tenderness and slightly resonating with genuine pain and resignation, "I miss this." I miss this. Just that.

Just that one line, and the subtle beauty inherent in its delivery, is enough to convince me that Milk is a movie worth watching - not only once but multiple times. Because it's as much a movie about humanity as it is about anything. Humanity at its finest, at its worst, and everything in-between: it's shades of gray in an already colorful world. Sure, the premise revolves around one man and his particular story, but the way in which it unfolds and engages with the audience can be appreciated by all, no matter what your sexual orientation. It's not only one of the best films in 2008, but a classic by all accounts.

Watchmen was (only) alright.

5 Reasons Why Watchmen Was NOT Better Than The Dark Knight

1. The villain wasn’t nearly as badass.

Comparing Heath Ledger’s Joker to Matthew Goode’s Veidt is like comparing Anthony Hopkins’ Hannibal to one of the members from the Donner party. One engages in evil because he can; the other does it merely out of circumstance – who do you think gets the Oscar for scariest performance?

Okay, so maybe that’s a really bad analogy, especially considering that the villains in Watchmen are few and far between, with multiple characters contributing their own little bouts of iniquity to the mix, but personally I didn’t find Goode’s performance in the movie particularly impressive nor fitting of the original character.

Veidt in the graphic novel is a steely, overly ambitious individual who thinks he can save humanity out of sheer force of will and a meticulously crafted plan that, were it not for his superhuman intelligence, would have resulted in another Cloverfield disaster – i.e., all brawn and no brain. His one vice is that he’s too good to be true (and I guess, you know, the whole ‘I’m going to wreak Armageddon on the world thing’). Goode’s Veidt just seemed a little too shrimpy to pull it off – and anyway, how could such a (physically) small head house such a big brain?

2. Both female characters sucked, but at least in The Dark Knight she died.

Laurie, or Silk Spectre II, had no character development in the movie whatsoever. If she wasn’t sleeping with either Dr. Manhattan or Nite Owl II, she was either whining about life or throwing things at giant pink structures while whining about life. Sure, she did that in the graphic novel too, but at least then she did it with some spunk – more rage than sheer teary-eyed girly-ness.

In the movie she’s rendered almost completely flat, as though she were merely another part of the whole let’s-include-at-least-one-“strong”-female- character-so-the-movie-isn’t- a-complete-sausage-fest plan. And let’s make her really hot and annoying so that audiences won’t realize that she has no real personality whatsoever. Hmm…didn’t see that one coming.

3. The biggest badass is not that badass. (And he doesn’t do the pencil trick.)

In the film, Rorschach’s character, possibly my favorite from the book, is not nearly as multi-dimensional. He’s still vicious, still creepy, and still (strangely) relatable (Jackie Earle Haley’s performance as Rorschach is certainly commendable, almost as good as his role as the creepy but forlorn pervert in Little Children), but no longer as nuanced.

And nuances are clearly what define Rorschach – as evident by his name, by his subtly changing mask, by his very being. It’s the fact that you can’t really figure him out that makes him such a great character. On the one hand, his twisted reasoning doesn’t seem that far-fetched – with the state that humanity is in these days, why does it deserve to be saved from its “accumulated filth?” But on the other hand, he’s just another misfit who doesn’t really understand that in order to save society, you actually have to be a part of it. Why bother vanquishing evil when you don’t even believe in good? It’s complicated. He’s complicated – as a villain- as-hero (and vice-versa) should be. But in the movie, Rorschach’s motivations are made far too clear to uphold that nihilistic force of nature radiating from everything he says and does.

4. Both movies derive their ingenuity from source material, but only one of them actually does something with it.

Both Watchmen and The Dark Knight are credited with re-inventing the superhero genre and deviating from the typical niche of comic book movies as entertaining but campy. Both movies feature tortured heroes without any real superpowers, signs of the darker side of humanity, and themes not suitable for children. The only difference is, Christopher Nolan deserves credit for engineering the re-invention; Zack Snyder does not. If Watchmen is an innovative superhero movie, it is only because Alan Moore’s novel is that good.

Nolan took the idea of Batman and Gotham and placed it in a realistic urban setting, developing a Batman whose very existence comes directly from within himself and his own complex motivations and efforts. His costume does not so much serve as a cool-factor as it is a means of utility, and his strength is a trait manufactured over years of experience and practice rather than something already inherent in the Batman persona. The only director’s trademarks found in Watchmen are the frequent, and often unnecessary, instances of slow-motion that accompany nearly every other action (and sometimes non-action) scene. Slow-motion editing was cool in 300; in Watchmen it was merely annoying. If I wanted to watch people’s bodies freeze in mid-air for no apparent reason at all, I’d go watch one of the Matrix sequels instead.

It can’t be denied that Zack Snyder’s adaptation was faithful to the graphic novel – nearly every scene that he chose to replicate was almost perfect in detail and sure to appease devoted fans – but what else can be said about the film besides the fact that it was accurate?

5. Only one made me eager to see a sequel.

Okay, so this is a little unfair, as anyone who has actually read Watchmen will already know. I know Alan Moore purposely structured the novel so that no sequel can really come out of it (killing off half the characters was a genius move on his part) but hey, he also stated from the very beginning that a successful movie adaptation can’t be made, and clearly to some extent he was wrong, as the film is currently being heralded as provocative and entertaining by both fans and non-fans of the novel alike. So maybe a sequel could be in store after all?

But the thing is, even if that were the case – I wouldn’t want to see a Watchmen sequel. Throughout the entirety of the film I was very much aware of its limitations as a film adaptation of a literary masterpiece. I was never convinced, not even once, that it could stand strong as a film alone. In other words, without the background I had going in (namely, as someone who had read and loved the graphic novel), and without the sheer audacity and appeal of the source material, the movie would probably have been even less impressive than it already was. Its primary strength lay in the arena blockbusters are known for: its aesthetics. It was a “cool” movie, visually speaking. But film as a medium is so much more than just the aesthetics. Lauding any one movie on that basis alone seems to me a bit like cheating – you’re getting a good thing, but it’s only one part of a package deal.

I know there are many who might disagree, but hear me out – part of the fun and intrigue of watching Watchmen was simply to see the characters depart from the elusive nature of one’s imagination and play out on the screen with their costumes and voices and colors intact, a visual feast that maybe only a Hollywood blockbuster can offer. I guess that’s good enough for some people, and that’s perfectly fine. But honestly, I came into the movie expecting a lot more.

Props to Snyder for attempting to do a difficult thing - I don't regret watching the movie at all - but by no means was it phenomenal.