Defending and Attacking Larry Clark's 'Kids'

I watched a slew of movies last week, but I'm writing about one I didn't enjoy as much as the others: "Kids." The film is a great example of uncompromising vision. Whether it's good or bad, people talk about and remember this shit.

If you look through the reviews on "Kids," you're going to find a lot of people calling the movie pornographic. I knew about the movie's controversial reputation, so I was expecting something truly fucked up last week. Well, I got something truly fucked up but not because of the reasons everyone had proposed.

"Kids" features teenage actors and actresses having simulated sex. While these scenes can't be ignored, they are still restrained in that there isn't much nudity or anything arousing about the circumstances of these scenes ... I don't see how a boy giving a girl HIV could be that arousing to many people, and the scumsuckers who might find this arousing are probably too busy with their sick routines. In other words, pornography is designed with an audience in mind, so I don't get the argument that director Larry Clark was disguising child pornography as art when he made "Kids."

Indeed, while watching "Kids" I could not divorce the thought that Clark considers himself a very serious artist (check out this interview for evidence that supports my theory). The film obviously has a message: kids are, quite frankly, fucked up. And Clark uses a documentary style in an attempt to give his message levity. Whereas pornography is, by definition, something with no message other than "Jerk off to this" or "Finger yourself" or ...

But some might still ask, "Would you consider it borderline child pornography [and therefore irresponsible]?" My serious answer is I don't know because I can't define "borderline child pornography." I don't watch child pornography and therefore have no idea where the line is drawn. Now, if you had asked me whether Stanley Kubrick's "Eyes Wide Shut" is borderline titty porn, I could respond because I have watched ...

This entry is probably making everyone uncomfortable at this point, but I'm almost finished. "Kids" is not pornography from my perspective, but it is troubling, and I mean outside of what the filmmakers wanted me to feel. Chloe Sevigny's character Jennie, for instance, doesn't seem to have much of a purpose other than being a punching bag. First, she learns she has HIV even though she's had sex only once. Before the film ends, she is raped. After the rape, you don't see her again.

It's a cold movie, and it's cold because Larry Clark and screenwriter Harmony Korine care. They want us to see how kids really are. But wait a minute. Not every kid is this fucked up.

And that's why I don't get "Kids." I was supposed to have my eyes opened, but:

1. I already knew this shit happens because I was a kid. Duh.

2. Reality isn't this bleak.

On the other hand, any film that provokes as much thought deserves a chance. Try it if you haven't.

(Another criticism against "Kids" is that Clark was exploiting his young cast. Yeah, I'm sure Clark was thinking about the big bucks he was going to make off his Hollywood blockbuster, "NC-17 Teen Drama with Rape Scene.")

'Zombieland': Did it need the damn Twinkie jokes?

Fuck, I know. It looks like I'm about to take a big piss all over everyone's Fun. But that's not what I'm trying to do. I'll start by saying "Zombieland" is a decent comedy/family lesson/action film. I enjoyed it, and I wouldn't mind watching it again. My three favorite scenes:

3. The scene where Woody Harrelson (he pretty much outclasses the remaining cast members), Jesse Eisenberg, Emma Stone, and Abigail Breslin are taking turns talking in the front seat. Well-directed comedy.

2. The Zombie Kill of the Week. Or whatever the hell it was. It reminded me of Quentin Tarantino. By the way, Ruben Fleischer directed "Zombieland." Yeah, there is no wikipedia article on Fleischer, so don't even try now.

1. The scene where Woody is on a rollercoaster shooting shit. Great action directing.

Honorable mention to the slow-mo opening credits.

Were these scenes worth $8? I don't know, but the movie didn't completely shit the bed. But goddamn it, I despise advertising. When commercials come on, I stop paying attention. When people ask me if I've seen a particular "funny commercial," I have no idea what they're talking about. Total ignorance. And in this case, it makes me feel good.

On the other hand, it's hard for me to ignore a commercial when the product plays a central motherfucking role in the motivation of a character played by Woody Harrelson. Yeah, he really likes Twinkies, and just in case you can't remember, Twinkies are made by Hostess. Yes, he loves Twinkies.

The last two sentences are the summarized messages I received from "Zombieland," and the kinky part is that the movie wanted me to laugh at these messages. Honestly, it made me uncomfortable. For one thing, it wasn't funny to me in the slightest. I'm not unflexible on product placement or questionable advertising, either. "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" is one of the few television shows I enjoy. One episode from its fifth season featured quite a bit of questionable advertising (the show was clearly sucking off Dave & Buster's), but I didn't mind because I laughed at the show's jokes. Maybe I need to see "Zombieland" again to get the elusive Twinkie humor, but it sure as hell didn't work on me the first time. And the number of Twinkie jokes was too much. I could have casually forgotten about one comedic misfire.

I would like a Twinkie right now, but that's not a good idea at the moment. So there you go. I'm not going to bitch about how lame Jesse Eisenberg's voice-over was or anything else, just offering a simple question:

Did "Zombieland" need the damn Twinkie jokes? Surely something funnier could have motivated Harrelson's character. Something that wouldn't resemble a commercial at all. Something that wouldn't make me hungry.

Everyone Should Be Required to Watch the Last 15 Minutes of Cronenberg's 'The Brood.'

I should explain myself. I used to write this blog. My last entry was more than three months ago. I kept telling people I would update. I kept telling them I would write about "Inglourious Basterds."

Well, I'm a fucking liar. I'm not writing about "Inglourious Basterds" now, but when the DVD comes out in December, I hope to get an entry for it.

Enough sincere apologies, I want to talk about watching movies for Halloween. I'm three days too late, but I don't think anyone has read The Truth about Halloween movie watching--assuming you've been reading the same stuff I've been reading.

You only need about 15 minutes, perhaps less, and a DVD of David Cronenberg's "The Brood." Unless you want to risk boredom or dissatisfaction, do not attempt to watch this film in its entirety. It has really shitty dialogue and acting. Alright, you got the DVD already? Skip to the scene where a man is confronting a woman and start watching. You may stop the movie when you see enough.

I realize not everyone will be inspired to find "The Brood," so I'll motivate you with these three words about the film's climax: bloody fetus licking.

So the next time someone recommends you a "great horror film you have never seen," remember this. The ending of the "The Brood" is probably more disturbing, and you only need about 15 minutes to fuck your sensibilities.

'Bruno': Relevant or Irreverent?

Before I attempt to answer the question posed in the title, I want to shoot down a comparison people have been making.

The comparison is Tom Green and Sasha Baron Cohen. City Pulse writer Cole Smithey said, "Sasha Baron Coen picks up where Tom Green left off as cinema's most cunning agent provocateur." Smithey's misspelling is fun to point out, but more importantly, how the fuck was "Freddy Got Fingered" cunning? How was Green an agent in that film? It is important to make a distinction between Green's television and film work.

Google around and you'll find more comparisons. Even though I should be a douchebag for the sake of entertainment, I'll be fair. You could describe both Green and Cohen as obnoxious. And their comedy involves interacting with real people beyond a controlled setting for wild results. That's where the comparison ends. And with those two criteria, you could bring in other names, like Triumph and Dave Attell.

Just as it doesn't make sense to say Triumph is influenced by the work of Tom Green, it doesn't make sense to state, in any way, that Cohen is continuing Green's work. Green is himself; Cohen plays characters. Green's comedy has no underlying social commentary; Cohen is a satirist.

There are two potential reasons why someone would make such a limited comparison. First, the person doesn't know what the hell he or she is talking about. Second, the person doesn't find Cohen funny or insightful and either wants to use Green's name as an easy way to discredit Cohen or lumps all unfunny comics--from his or her perspective--into the same category (which doesn't necessarily make sense--for example, I don't like Carrot Top or Steve Carell for very different reasons). It's fine to think Cohen is a comedic failure, but it's a mistake to suggest he's not putting as much on the line as Green. And it's also a mistake to dismiss him with a simple "Well, he's so obnoxious" line. No, he plays obnoxious characters, and he does so for a reason. Instead, explain why his characters fail to deliver the satire.

With this logic in mind, I want to briefly analyze Cohen's newest film, "Bruno," and answer a question: Is it relevant or just irreverant? (I'm loosely defining "relevant" as an action that brings about social commentary or satire and "irreverent" as an action that just pisses people off.)

The answer is both. When Bruno pulls his pants down in front of politician Ron Paul, it's irreverent. I can't find any meaningful commentary in this scene other than Paul handling the situation about as well as you can expect.

However, when a disguised Bruno pleases a crowd by chanting ridiculous shit like "Straight Pride" before sending it into a frenzy--complete with a thrown chair and laughable expressions of disappointment--by stripping and kissing another man, it's relevant (and funny). An American crowd cheers when he champions heterosexuality but would have injured or killed the same bastard for stripping and kissing a man if a cage didn't separate spectacle from audience.

Bruno revealing that some parents will put their children through any horrible thing to make money: relevant.

Bruno showing a tape to a focus group that features a penis swinging around and yelling his name: irreverent.

Bruno taking his clothes off and trying to get into a tent with a hunter: irreverent.

Bruno convincing a karate instructor that a homosexual is going to attack him in a number of improbable ways (the last example involves a homosexual attacking him with two dildos and an exposed penis): relevant.

And sometimes an action is both relevant and irreverent. For example, a television audience commends Bruno for being a parent until he mentions that he's gay. This is relevant until Bruno goes out of his way to piss the audience off, with pictures of the baby in a pool with him and other men.

My message here is simple. You don't have to like "Bruno," but approach the material for what it is. It doesn't resemble Tom Green anymore than Triumph the Insult Comic Dog. (Granted, the dog is a puppet, but he is always irreverent, like Green.)

One more thing. While I watched "Bruno," a couple behind me said "That's it" and began to walk out when Bruno dropped his pants in front of Ron Paul. I laughed at them of course, but they soon disturbed me. Halfway down the steps, they called to another party, "Let's go." First, a girl stood up. She looked about 17. Then a shorter boy stood up. OK, he was probably only 13 or 14, but that's not too bad. Then an even shorter boy stood up, perhaps as young as 10. An important thing to keep in mind is that the parents didn't walk out when a penis was talking on the screen.

I'm sure that family has a fascinating future.

(By the way, Cohen's work is most reminiscent of Peter Sellers. The physical comedy [especially the velcro suit scene in "Bruno"]. The multiple accents. The satire. This is what you call solid intel, Mr. President.)

'Star Trek': Captain Jim Hanging from Ledges

Months ago I did not want to see the new "Star Trek." I've seen most of the films and a few episodes from almost every series, and I like "Star Trek IV" the most because it has the best sense of humor. Director J.J. Abrams seems to have no sense of humor, so I thought avoiding his film would be wise. That was before a multitude of people praised it and got me curious.

Thank Christ for Karl Urban. He plays Bones, the blunt doctor who gives "Star Trek" its humanity, and consider my ass laughed off at Urban's performance.

But Abrams, that vicious bastard, would be damned if Spock and Jim aren't the Humans of "Star Trek." For example, Abrams makes Uhura, the foxy communicator, Spock's girlfriend. Thus, we are supposed to believe Spock is human--even though the two performers have no Chemistry and their relationship has the depth of a mud puddle I pissed in as a child because I wanted it to be bigger.

Oh, and Jim hangs from ledges a lot. But I understand why Abrams uses this device: characterization. Jim is Tough, but he hangs from ledges, so he's an underdog in hard battles, too!

You also see Scotty and Chekov, whose appearances only amplify the silliness of the film, which is fine by me. Too bad Scotty shows up too late, but it's better than watching Spock and Uhura make out just because the director thinks kissing between a Vulcan and Human is deep.

The new music is UNACCEPTABLE. I can't remember any of it, with the exception of a generic "BUM! BUM! BUM!"

Some of you might ask, "Does it stay faithful to the original series, or does it strike a new path?" My answer? I wish it was funnier, so I wish Bones was the doctor AND captain. Why should I care about all this other nerdy bullshit? Make it funnier, you bastards!

Does the movie look good? Yeah, it has good-looking spaceships and laser beams, but I don't jack off to that anymore.

Finally, the villian sucked. Unfunny, uninteresting. Should have had more facetious dialogue. Should have been played by Alan Rickman.

Every movie should have Alan Rickman as a villain.

Can you imagine that? Bones is the captain, and Alan Rickman is the villain. Abrams really needs to get his head out of his ass.

If it seems like I'm pissing on good fun, maybe I am. Or maybe fun equals more humor (think "Star Trek IV") and less gratuitous genocide (think Vulcan and Romulan planets destroyed).

'Ichi the Killer': It's Just Comedic Storytelling

Takashi Miike is a storyteller. Unfortunately, some critics and viewers seem to want their stories in safe packages. I assume they can handle "The Godfather" despite its violent moments. But a film like "The Godfather" offers characters with redeeming human qualities. That is not a flaw, but it is traditional.

With "Ichi the Killer," Mike's goal is to tell a comedic nontraditional story, and he wants his crew and audience to help make the journey. He can't do it alone. However, some critics dismiss the film as torture of the audience.

But more about that later. You might not know much about Miike. I only knew his filmmaking by reputation for a long time, but hearing about his movies--and their most insane parts--will not give you an accurate understanding of Miike.

"Audition" is perhaps Miike's most well-known film and for great reasons. Its voyeuristic direction is reminiscent of Hitchcock, it has solid and understated characters, and it will make you uncomfortable. Hell, even Rob Zombie was creeped out. I will not reveal anything specific about the film, but I will share a story about myself.

I was at work eating lunch, and I had watched "Audition" the previous night. The movie was still on my mind, so I looked it up on wikipedia. As I read through the synopsis, I came across a detail that almost made me stop eating a tasty sandwich. I had blocked a particular scene from my mind, and the description on wikipedia reminded me why I had done that.

Notwithstanding its disturbing images, "Audition" has characters you can easily understand. The challenge is finishing the film. Do not take this the wrong way. The film does not have gratuitous violence, but it involves one of the most fucked up characters in film history, and you have to watch that person at work. Think Hitchcock's "Frenzy," only more graphic and prolonged.

In contrast, if you can easily understand or identify with characters in "Ichi the Killer," I never want to meet you. Both "Audition" and "Ichi the Killer" have torture, but the torture in the latter didn't faze me as much. Primarily because it's rather cartoony. For example, a man hangs from a ceiling with hooks through the skin of his back and legs, but it is obviously not his skin being pierced. It's disgusting but not realistic in the slightest sense.

The violence in "Ichi the Killer" is over the top and often the result of computer graphics and comedic intentions. Remember that. Comedic intentions. I say this because some critics would recognize a comedic ingredient but still concluded that the film--and Miike--was sadistic.

For instance, Michael W. Phillips Jr.'s review indicates that the film's spraying blood reminds him of "the blood Monty Python used," which should have told him that Miike had comedic intentions. Instead, his conclusion misses the point:

"There are movies that I value that include a lot of sadism and misery, but I have to believe that there's some purpose to it. I couldn't find a purpose here except wallowing in pain and inviting others to partake of it."

The primary purpose is humor. I'm not saying I didn't think "What the fuck?!" several times while watching the movie, but it's clear the violence is humorous, sometimes for its inherent absurdity and sometimes for its mockery of other films.

It's also clear that Miike is exploring the possibilities of storytelling with the violence. Phillips sensed this a little when he discussed the character of Kakihara:

"And there's the somehow amusing thought of being faced by an opponent like Kakihara, the bleach-blonde psychopath in the shiny suits: how do you fight a guy whose pleasure increases the more you hurt him? Punching and kicking seem somehow useless in a situation like that."

But again, his conclusion does not seem to consider the facts: "I think there is a line between depiction and glorification, between exploring sadism and practicing it, and Miike takes a Carl Lewis long jump over that line and doesn't look back." First, Phillips accuses Miike of practicing sadism. My response is that you can turn off the movie whenever you like. Plus, Miike is telling a story anyway. Phillips presents two possibilities, (1) exploring sadism and (2) practicing sadism, but does not consider another possibility: Miike is neither seriously exploring sadism nor practicing it. He is telling an unconventional story that involves sadistic and masochistic characters.

Another critic, Nick Schager, touched on both of my points, but his review doesn't suggest he understood Miike's intentions:

"With slits running from the corners of his mouth out into the middle of his cheeks (the wounds held together only by two ring piercings) and a sexual appetite for S&M-tinged beatings, Asano's Kakihara is a demonic monster whose moral vacuity is simultaneously frightening and comical. He's not enough to elevate the pointless Ichi the Killer into something worthwhile, but his extreme indecency does make the endless degeneracy slightly more bearable."

I don't understand Schager's logic. He is basically saying that the most depraved character in the film makes the depravity more bearable. Not only do I find this claim illogical, but I disagree with its implications. Kakihara should not have any bearing on one's viewpoint of the degeneracy. Degeneracy is degeneracy. The important factors are the tone of the film and the intent of its director. The tone is comical, and the director is telling a story. Therefore, the degeneracy can be accepted as part of the humor and story. Again, what's so pointless about humor and telling a different story?

Humor is pointless if it is not ironic. I don't think anyone could claim that "Ichi the Killer" is not full of irony. It might not be congruent with your tastes, but the irony certainly exists.

A story is pointless if you do not understand the sequence of events and the characters. And honestly, this is where I can agree with Schager. The film can be quite hard to follow, but then again, I've only watched it once. The marketing didn't help, either. Kakihara's face is featured on the DVD cover, and for at least 40 minutes I kept assuming he was also known as Ichi.

But the characters make sense, as long as you aren't looking for an insightful lesson from them. That's part of the problem I have with the reviews by Phillips and Schager. They aren't judging the film on its own merits so much as lamenting the fact that it doesn't contain social commentary to slice up and analyze. It's akin to dismissing "Airplane!" because it doesn't address the political environment of 1980. Judge it by the jokes, not by the deep conversations you could have had with friends if the film had done this and that.

Kakihara seems to be a character anyone can appreciate on at least a superficial level, so I will explore his motivations before closing. Kakihara's boss has been killed and robbed, and he wants to find the culprit. Thus, he tortures a member of another clan that he believes has a lead on the killer. When Kakihara realizes he is wrong, he cuts off part of his own tongue as a political apology. Kakihara soon learns about Ichi's destructive spree, and because Kakihara would love nothing more than a severe beating for pleasure, he becomes obsessed with the prospect of fighting Ichi. He finally faces Ichi on a rooftop, but the fight is a fluke. So Kakihara sticks pins deep into his ears out of frustration. He apparently damages his brain because he hallucinates and finds one of Ichi's blades sinking into his forehead, and Kakihara falls to his death, happy and satisfied.

That is a funny and unconventional ending for a character if you ask me. How did Miike present it? In a commentary track, Miike said he only directed the camera angles for that sequence. Everything else--the duration of the shots, the positioning of the characters, the acting, etc.--was under the control of his cast and crew, and they didn't revise their instincts. Miike explained that one possibility is more special than many possibilities.

After that, it's all up to us to laugh and enjoy the ride.

'JCVD' is a damn good time, 'The 400 Blows' does not blow, and Tarantino refuses to admit he made a mistake.

Nothing like a ridiculous title to illustrate that I don't know how to focus anymore.

But we're going to get through this. Let's start with Francois Truffaut's "The 400 Blows," which I finished last night after stopping it about five times. It is said to be Truffaut's greatest film and perhaps the main staple of French New Wave. I can't confirm the former claim because I had only seen "The Wild Child" before watching "The 400 Blows." (I wrote an entry about it here, complete with a pretentious comparison to David Lynch's "The Elephant Man.)

Honestly, I enjoyed my first viewing of "The Wild Child" more, but there is undeniable power in "The 400 Blows," however quiet that power is. As I said, I stopped the film several times to do other things before returning to it. Why? Because the film was asking too much of me. The story involves a young boy who gets into too much trouble ... he is certainly a misbehaving little bastard ... but adults--his parents, teachers, etc.--treat him like a monster. That's a tough thing to enjoy, and Truffaut doesn't gloss it up one bit, though he throws in a few clever and funny moments.

As I observed in "The Wild Child," Truffaut utilizes a detached, almost scientific perspective in "The 400 Blows," and he expects the viewer to take in the facts and arrive at a humane conclusion. This fascinating technique has worked twice on me, but again, if you don't bring a heart to either of these films, you're going to dismiss both as Tales of Bratty Children.

There is one interesting difference between "The Wild Child" and "The 400 Blows." The kid in the former is a heathen of the woods, yet adults are willing to help him--they don't want him in a cage. The kid in the latter is a heathen of society, yet adults are unwilling to help him--they want him in a cage.

But enough serious talk ... "JCVD" is a silly and intelligent ride. Not only can Van Damme act, but he can make you feel for him. I'm not going to say much else about "JCVD" other than these points:

1. If you haven't watched any Van Damme movies, don't bother watching this now. Go watch "Bloodsport," "Kickboxer," and "Lionheart." Then watch this.

2. If you take this film too seriously and miss the point, shame on you. I'll admit the pacing could have been better, but the payoff is worth it. Christ, it's only a little more than 90 minutes.

3. This isn't another "Being John Malkovich." If you dismiss it with this faulty intel, you are a liar and possibly a sexual deviant, Mr. President.

And now, the big headline: ADMIT YOUR HORRIBLE MISTAKE, TARANTINO. Yeah, I have all your movies on DVD (and I've probably lost credibility now, but fuck it), and I have defended your ridiculous ass on many occasions (and will continue to do so when appropriate), and I am going to watch "Inglourious Basterds" (and I wish everyone would stop whining about the misspellings ... Jeezus Christus, why take obvious bait?).

But your claim from this article is pathetic and stupid:

‘‘Fahrenheit 9/11.’’ You know what? As time has gone on, I’ve put that decision under a microscope and I still think we were right. That was a movie of the moment — ‘‘Fahrenheit 9/11’’ may not play the same way now as it did then, but back then it deserved everything it got.

- Quentin Tarantino, on the decision to give "Fahrenheit 9/11" the Palme d'Or in 2004

First, let me clarify something. I don't give a shit about what movie wins the Palme d'Or. "Freddy Got Fingered" could have won it one year. I have no idea.

But Tarantino is simply wrong. Yeah, he's been a douchebag plenty of times, but he usually knows how to make a point. Here, he doesn't even attempt to make a point. He says "magnifying glass," but if he would take a close look at "Fahrenheit 9/11," he would know it's garbage filmmaking. It's not even consistently entertaining. A chunk of the movie is essentially a mother whining about her dead son who signed up to die. Not only is it a ridiculously overlong appeal to pity, but it's something I never want to watch in the first place. And guess what Tarantino could have voted for? "Oldboy," one of the most groundbreaking and exciting films of the decade.

OK, OK, so I'm bitchy. But I simply detest arguments that praise "Fahrenheit 9/11" like an unfortunate junkie rejoicing over a cure for AIDS.

John Woo's 'The Killer': What happened to dude's arm?

Given the date, I have to waste at least a sentence to say this entry isn't an April Fool's Joke. Which gives me a reason to waste a paragraph for a quick deranged story. I was very young, maybe 11 or 12, and I thought I had a great April Fool's Joke: wake up my mother and tell her my sister had been hit by a truck. I still hate my younger, immature self for this ploy because I'm sure my mother couldn't rest this morning. If an April Fool's Joke is measured by how much you fuck with a person's mind, I scored a big one. I'm done with the shit, and before I leave this matter, fuck your Web sites today. I hope you lose readers, you annoying badgers!

I rewatched John Woo's "The Killer" Sunday with a friend who had not seen it. His reactions to the out-of-control gunfights reminded me of my amazement years ago when I first rented the VHS from Blockbuster. I would go on to rent the VHS five or six times. Then something happened that I will never forget: Blockbuster began selling all of its video tapes. I own the very VHS that changed the way I look at action films. (However, my friend and I watched the DVD, a gift from my mother, God Bless Her Poor Soul Today.)

The violence in "The Killer" is hard to capture with writing. It is silly, extravagant, staged, funny, emotional, and ultimately captivating. Chow Yun-Fat, whose varied facial expressions are a treasure, is the killer. He shoots men as many as 10 times with his two .45s in case the first shot to the head isn't enough. He doesn't seem to reload often enough, but the bullets fly anyway. The way he shoots people are almost stories by themselves. The killer dispatches one man by firing into the legs, the man eventually falling to his knees for a final hole at the bottom of his neck. Another man pumps a shotgun as the killer stomps the end of a table to pop a revolver into his hand for two shots into the man's chest.

And then there's the scene where the killer stops a jeep beside a car. The main villain opens a back door of the car to lean out, and the killer blows the main villain's Entire Fucking Arm off with a hand cannon resulting in a lurid black spray.

Here's the mystery. It is obvious to anyone that the Entire Fucking Arm fell off the man's body like a rotted log. But the main villain continues to have that arm in the film. He continues to fire weapons with the arm. He even presses a gun to the forehead of a hostage with that arm, the sick lucky bastard.

The DVD has a commentary track with John Woo. Excited, I skip to the scene in question for insight on the arm. With slow English, Woo discusses the relationship between the killer and his best friend while the violence occurs.

I was disappointed initially. But upon reflection, it's better this way. The arm completely fucks the continuity of the film, but so do the endless bullets and sparse reloads. It's a humorous and impressive move by Woo, and an explanation would cheapen the laughs and shock. Perhaps this is the reason P.T. Anderson has refused to do a commentary track for "There Will Be Blood." Maybe it's the reason David Lynch only says "Inland Empire" is about a woman in trouble.

It is definitely the reason I am smiling on April Fool's Day.

Why the hell do I like 'Slumdog Millionaire'?

I dislike it when new movies end with people dancing (I don't mind ironic cases: "Inland Empire" and "Tropic Thunder") because the idea exemplifies cliched filmmaking.

I watch "Slumdog Millionaire" with my mom and friend. The story is over. I am ready to leave my seat and walk down the steps and hope that people don't lumber like stupid cattle. But there's more than credits on the screen. People are dancing, including the two main characters. Everyone in the theater stops. I can't leave.

Later, I have a discussion with another friend about the film. I point out the lame dancing, and he says, "But that's Bollywood."

Fuck it.

(Note: I talked with my Indian co-worker about dancing in Bollywood films. He said people are very entertained by dancing in India, and sometimes audience members even dance in the theater themselves.)

Notwithstanding that I could not easily leave the theater because of an annoying tradition, I liked "Slumdog Millionaire." Director Danny Boyle goes wild with the flashbacks, but I never felt lost. The cinematography is wonderful at times. Anil Kapoor's role as the host of "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?" deserved an Oscar nomination. And A.R. Rahman's music amazed me.

But the dancing isn't the only thing I found troubling.

While the direction is great for the most part, Boyle sometimes displays tendencies in line with Michael Bay, quickly cutting from shot to shot as if he's in a competition for most shots within one minute.

While the protagonist's brother is essential to the story's development, he is wasted about halfway through when he unbelievably becomes Scarface within a few minutes and sticks a gun in his sibling's face.

While the audience got a big laugh out of a kid covered in human shit, I didn't. (Although the scene is more innocent than what my statement would imply.)

While the music kicked ass, the film often struck me as five or six music videos strung together.

For almost every good thing about "Slumdog Millionaire," I can come up with a counterpoint.

Why the hell do I like it? Manipulation. The film just knows how to make you like it. It lays the foundation with an underdog character, frames the story within an entertaining modern game show, utilizes Freida Pinto's beauty for all its worth ("I just looked her up on wikipedia, and she was born ONLY a month before me!"), and includes colored boxes for subtitles.

Colored boxes for subtitles, that's why I like the film, goddamn it.

'Duck, You Sucker!' blew me away because it's about dynamite and explosions and shit blowing up.

In case you're wondering what the hell I'm writing about, "Duck, You Sucker!" is a spaghetti western directed by Sergio Leone. If you don't know anything about Leone ("The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly" and "Once Upon a Time in the West"), then shame on you, Mr. President. You have neglected your duties long enough.

(Note: You are not allowed to read anymore of this blog entry until you watch some of Leone's films.)

Alrighty, there's another potentially confusing thing I need to address. This film is also known as "A Fistful of Dynamite." "Duck, You Sucker!" was Leone's preference, but the studios changed the title to "A Fistful of Dynamite," hoping to attract audiences who watched "A Fistful of Dollars." And yes, "Duck, You Sucker!" is said a few times during the movie, but James Coburn doesn't overdo it.

Fuck! I don't feel like I've said anything substantial yet.

Alrighty, so one might think that this is a silly comedic western with a title like "Duck, You Sucker!" And honestly, it feels silly for a while. The beginning of the film is essentially Coburn the Irish dynamite expert and Rod Steiger the Mexican hoodlum flirting with each other, albeit dangerously. Steiger shoots Coburn's bike tire. Coburn blows a hole through Steiger's stagecoach. Etc. This mating ritual is similar to how Clint Eastwood and Eli Wallach treated each other in "The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly," only more suggestive. Yeah, Eastwood and Wallach were flirting in that film, but they almost killed each other. Coburn and Steiger would never take That Risk, or at least that's the impression I got.

And the music is silly for a while, too, which is not the norm for Ennio Morricone. In fact, I sort of hated the music until the last third of the film, when the tone of the music is juxtaposed against some disturbing and weird flashbacks. Thank the living Christ it finally suited my ears because I've never disliked a Morricone score.

The second half of the film is clearly stronger than the first, mainly because the characters finally come into their own. Steiger's character is pretty much Wallach's "The Ugly" before The Significant Event That Changes Him. Leone's camerawork during The Significant Event is devastatingly great. At that point, you realize he's not simply fucking around with a colloquialism.

Coburn's character is explored throughout the film in flashbacks, but it's not until the second half that they get juicy. Of course, flashbacks were also used in "The Wild Bunch" to develop characters, but Sam Peckinpah doesn't make you wait for the meat. Leone is a completely different mammal. He wants you to wait for Everything. But without patience, Leone would be nothing. There's just something so damned interesting about watching two characters look at each other for minutes in silence.

The message is watch this immediately, but only if you're familiar with Leone's filmography. I can't see someone appreciating this one too much without some knowledge of spaghetti westerns. Just remember to get the collector's edition DVD at 157 minutes and prepare your ass for a long sit.

The Oscar Nominations Are Out, and It Seems I Must Slap My Grandmother.

I was surprised and giddy and thankful to find Robert Downey Jr. nominated for Best Supporting Actor. If you read the last paragraph of my "Tropic Thunder" review, you'll notice two things:

(1) An explanation of why Downey Jr. is brilliant.

(2) Doubt that the Academy would ever recognize Downey Jr. for his work. The specific comment: "It is highly unlikely Downey will get an Oscar nomination for this performance, but I would slap my grandmother if it would get him a nod."

No, I did not slap my grandmother, but maybe I owe her one.

For your official records, here is a list of the Oscar nominations. There has been a lot of savage weeping online about "The Dark Knight" being snubbed. It's not in the Best Picture or Best Director lists, and this fact causes Pain to shoot into people's Groins.

I'm glad Heath Ledger was nominated, as my "Dark Knight" review was totally dedicated to his manipulation of the audience and menacing effort. But I will not sob about any snubbing.

You might be disappointed that "The Dark Knight" wasn't nominated for Best Picture or Best Director, but it doesn't deserve either, Mr. President. Here is the intel:

1. Maggie Gyllenhaal's performance was flaccid, and her cheeks are too fucking monstrous. But I won't put all the blame on her because her character never had anything going for it. Childhood friend, sweet lawyer, shaking her head back and forth while she talks to Bruce Wayne. Jesus Christ, no film deserves Best Picture or Best Director with a savagely uncreative beast like that.

2. Christian Bale's Batman is a Sissy attempting to hide his tears by speaking in the lowest, brawniest voice he can muster behind his pathetic hyperventilation and disposition to panic attacks. This is not how a knight speaks.

3. The Nolan brothers can't incorporate themes into a script without having characters indicate that the themes are indeed there. What the fuck is this, Bible school?

The final line of the film:

Gordon (Gary Oldman): Because he's the hero Gotham deserves, but not the one it needs right now. So we'll hunt him because he can take it. Because he's not our hero. He's a silent guardian, a watchful protector. A dark knight.

God bless Oldman for going through with That Shit.

The truth is that eight nominations for a comic book film is a huge achievement, and that's all it deserves, friendz.

'Gran Torino': Race and Religion in the Theater

I had never heard so many different racial slurs in one sitting, barring that one George Carlin routine about how bad language is bullshit. The first instance occurs when Clint Eastwood opens his door and finds a Chinese boy standing on his porch. "Zipperhead" is fired from Eastwood's mouth before he shuts the door.

I wasn't counting the slurs, but I remember the audience laughing the most when Eastwood directed his anger toward a group of three young black men.

But hell, I thought Eastwood was funny, too. But when Racism is involved, an important distinction is whether you are laughing at something fucked up or laughing because you are fucked up.

OK, sermon over. I have no right to make assumptions about white people in a Mississippi theater.

Speaking of sermons, I felt like I was leaving church when I made my way to the exit. I saw young adults, middle-aged folk, and senior citizens--and what seemed to be children standing around the very front row. And most people looked solemn and respectful. Eastwood got his guts blown out, which gave me a feeling similar to when I watched John Wayne die in "The Cowboys" (two death spoilers in one sentence, OUCH). But the other audience members. Looking at their faces, it would seem they had watched Christ die.

But who better to worship than Eastwood? "Gran Torino" was a straightforward story, even cliched. But the man with slits for eyes and the warmest scowl made it special.

Jesus, Eastwood, don't let it be your last one. You wrinkled old cracker.