The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2022: Made in U.S.A. (1966), directed by Jean-Luc Godard

 

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune: 'As Tears Go By' by Marianne Faithfull

       This only seemed appropriate, didn’t it? Although Godard isn’t a huge name on this blog, we covered Alphaville a while back and that’s it, he was most certainly a huge name in the world of film at large, easily one of the most influential artists in the medium next to fellow legends like Alfred Hitchcock and Sergei Eisenstein. Generations of filmmakers were inspired by Godard, inspired by those who had been inspired, and so on and on. His death leaves a hole in the fabric of cinema, and we are all the worse for it. So for the very last film of the Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2022, let’s return to the work of Godard and see what the auteur has in store for us.

       Released in 1966, Made in U.S.A. was written and directed by Jean-Luc Godard and produced by Georges de Beauregard through Rome Paris Films, Anouchka Films and S.E.P.I.C., based on the film The Big Sleep directed by Howard Hawks, the novel ‘The Big Sleep’ by Raymond Chandler and ‘The Jugger’ by Donald E. Westlake. Godard muse Anna Karina stars as Paula Nelson, a journalist who has arrived in Paris to investigate the death of her former lover Richard. A heart attack, the official report says, but it becomes clear that Richard wasn’t felled by a coronary. There’s a mystery afoot, one that involves assassinations, political conspiracies, cover ups and Communist Parties, and Paula intends to get to the bottom of it.

       Made In U.S.A. is labeled as a thriller, a mystery, and a comedy, and I guess if you were feeling generous you could call it that. There are certainly absurd things that in other films would be considered comedic, like the reveal of Richard’s corpse, but which never cross the border into actual humor. There are elements which could leave the audience thrilled if the film ever had stakes, and the plot does involve a mystery, although the film is so free-wheeling with time and place that the audience struggles to care whether it’s solved or not, if it even was solved by the end. Really Made In U.S.A. is more a movie about people talking that occasionally has something happening on screen, and whether or not you find that interesting depends on if you find talk of French revisionism, the pointlessness of language and circular conversations about whether someone knows something interesting. I don’t, so this whole experience was akin to pulling teeth.

       Which isn’t to say that Godard is a bad filmmaker. He’s a very bold filmmaker, and there are things he does in film, the overt symbolism, breaking the 4th wall to have the characters tell the audience what they’re doing, which must have been very striking in ‘66. Hell it’s very bold even today, even after the legion of imitators. It’s just as a film, as a story that was meant to engage me on an emotional level as well as an intellectual one, it dropped the ball. It was white noise in the shape of dialogue, and as time wore on I became less and less interested in moving forward. I’ve complained a lot about movies being a bit too long, but I think Made In U.S.A. proves that even a 90 minute film can drag in the right conditions.

       Just so that this isn’t a completely negative post though, I will say that I enjoyed Marianne Faithfull’s cameo. Great singer, and Godard knew enough to just let her sing at one point. Anna Karina was also fairly interesting as a lead actress, and I don’t just say that because of her smoldering sensuality. I believe this was the last of Godard’s film to feature Karina in the lead role, whether she was aging out of the prime movie roles or Godard just wanted a change I don’t know, but it was enough to make me want to check out the rest of her work.

       Made In U.S.A. does not get the recommendation. A shitty send-off to a famous director, but I’m in a shitty mood so this is the best we’re going to get. Those interested in a better example of Godard should perhaps check out Alphaville, or one of his other films that probably won’t get reviewed on this blog since they aren’t genre films. Otherwise I’ll see you next year for another 31 films that you’ve probably already seen or don’t care about. In the meantime ebay some candy, dress like a ghost, have sex with someone dressed as a ghost, whatever. Go nuts, it’s a holiday.

Happy Halloween!!!

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2022: Kamikaze 1989 (1982), directed by Wolf Gremm

 

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune: 'White Eagle' by Tangerine Dream

       Originally this spot was going to go to a film by Werner Herzog, but in terms of this blog he’s in much the same predicament as Dario Argento. Arguably even worse, as Argento is known primarily for his horror films, while most of the Herzog films I’ve covered on this blog have a loose connection to genre films, if at all. Still we’ve still got a couple of his films to go before I consider retiring him, I definitely want to see Fitzcarraldo at some point, so in the meantime I’m going to tackle another German film that I’ve had my eye on for a few years now.

       Released in 1982, Kamikaze 1989 was directed by Wolf Gremm, written by Gremm and Robert Katz, and produced by Regina Ziegler, based on the 1964 novel “Murder on the Thirty-First Floor” by Swedish author Per Wahloo. It is the far-flung year of 1989, and West Germany is the richest country in the world. There’s no energy crisis, no pollution, no poverty, and all forms of media and entertainment are concentrated into a single place, known as the combine. A place that’s just received a bomb threat, threatening over 4000 employees. Enter Lieutenant Jansen (Rainer Werner Fassbinder), a loose cannon cop on the edge who never fails to get his man. Only there’s no man to get, the threat was just that. Or was it? As Jansen delves deeper into the mystery of this would-be bomber, the weeds just grow thicker and thicker. Assassination attempts, state secrets, underground comic books, and a secret 31st floor of the combine that may or may not exist. It can never just be a bomb threat, can it?

       A better writer than me could probably write about this film without making comparisons to Blade Runner, so I’ll go ahead and do it. Both films released in ‘82, both science-fiction films taking place in a futuristic dystopia (disguised as a utopia in Kamikaze’s case), both plots involving corporate greed and corruption, both protagonists being police officers, both have synth-heavy soundtracks you can see where I’m coming from right? However, while Blade Runner is a classic, at least the versions after the theatrical cut, Kamikaze 1989 doesn’t elicit the same kind of feelings. Rather its schizophrenic tone prevents me from taking any attempt at serious pathos seriously, and I’m finding it difficult to piece together what exactly the whole mystery and conspiracy was even about in the first place. An endorsement for multiple viewings I suppose, but if I didn’t like the egg salad the first time then I’m not going to order it for lunch the next day just to give the mayo a fair shake.

       I will give props to the world building and visual design, which like many sci-fi films is charming in the way that it covers for its shortcomings. The bizarre outfits like Jansen’s leopard-print suit, disturbing TV shows like a laughter competition that feels like a precursor to Robocop, the symbol of the police being a thumbs-up, it all speaks to a world that that has spread a thin veneer of progressiveness over a facist hellscape. There may be no pollution but no one really seems happy, so much as they are putting on an act of happiness. The opposite of Blade Runner in that regard, which was a world that looked miserable and had the population to match. A loud world filled with quiet desperation is Kamikaze 1989, a world that would make for a great running segment in 2000AD or Heavy Metal.

       Ultimately though I’m not giving Kamikaze 1989 the recommendation. I’ll concede that this could be a movie that gets better on repeated viewings, but it took me a while just to get through the one. Watch at your own discretion, but if you do be sure to take some notes. There’s definitely some kick-ass Halloween costumes sprinkled throughout.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2022: Suspiria (1977), directed by Dario Argento

 

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune: 'Suspiria (Main Theme)' by Goblin

       There’s probably a hard limit for how many times Dario Argento will keep showing up on this list. Not that we’re almost out of his films to cover, but despite giallo not being the most diverse subgenre in the world it still feels like a disservice to devote 90 percent of the attention towards only one artist. I’d feel the same way if the only westerns I covered were Sergio Leone or the only animated films I watched were Hayao Miyazaki, a man cannot survive on bread alone you understand. Fate willing we will eventually get through the entirety of his ‘classic’ period, but to use the vernacular of this blog Argento is not a Lynch or a Carpenter level director. And that’s fine, the opinion of this blog means jack shit anyway.

       Released in 1977, Suspiria was directed by Dario Argento, written by Argento and Daria Nicolodi and produced by Claudio Argento through Seda Spettacoli, based on the novel “Suspiria de Profundis” by Thomas De Quincey. Jessica Harper stars as Suzy Bannion, an American girl invited to join the prestigious Tam Academy in German, a ballet dancer’s paradise. Unfortunately she arrived at the peak of plot convenience season, as the night Suzy arrives is also the night when a former student of the school is horrifically murdered. She tries to go about her day in peace, only more and more strange things start to happen. Maggots falling from the ceiling, bizarre noises at night, a slight bleeding from every orifice in the face. What is going on at the Tam Academy and what happened to the murdered girl that passed by Suzy in the night when she arrived? Are the faculty oblivious, or do they know more than they seem? Against her better judgment, Suzy decides to investigate.

       Mysterious though it may seem don’t be fooled, as with the other Argento films we’ve covered on this blog the mystery is simply a smokescreen used to hide the juicy giallo core within. Gruesome, overwrought deaths, malicious, psychotic villains, virginal maidens, the works. Burgeoning cinephiles might be led into thinking that because these are foreign language films that they are more refined or thought-provoking, but that’s not really the case. Giallo scratches the same itch as a Texas Chainsaw Massacre or a Friday the 13th: pretty girls screaming while being murdered or trying to avoid being murdered. In the case of Suspiria it might even scratch harder; Argento sees a scene of a girl being stabbed to death and says ‘what if we had a part where the audience sees her heart beating in her mutilated chest cavity and then we see the killer stabbing the heart?’ It is the penny dreadful and the pulp novel set to motion, base entertainment that was later supplanted by the Jerry Springer Show and twitter drama wrapped up in a blanket of cinematography. Sometimes we want a steak, sometimes we want a burger, and in that case Suspiria is like one of those A-1 steak burgers.

       Suspiria is also the film that firmly established Argento’s reputation as a visual storytelling. The first comparison that came to mind was Corman’s Masque of the Red Death with it’s technicolor rooms (Suspiria was also filmed in technicolor), but if you ran that film through a Stanley Kubrick filter. Good lord does this film look good, the lighting, the use of color and location, it’s rare to find a movie where almost every scene looks like it could be its own painting. Argento has given the Zack Snyder’s Watchmen treatment to a comic book that doesn’t actually exist, and all without blue CGI penises.

       Music for Suspiria is provided by the band Goblin, which to me is a double-edged sword. I like Goblin, and I think at the right time their music combined with Argento’s visuals is a sensory overload akin to a bad acid trip, in a good way. Trouble is there are a lot of moments in this film where it’s not the right time. The soundtrack will make it sound like we’re in the middle of a chase scene, our protagonist only inches away from the killer, and yet on the screen it’s just a character walking slowly down a hallway. Which isn’t the band’s fault, fault lies with the filmmakers, and the filmmakers are very lucky they didn’t completely kill off the atmosphere they were trying to build by having Goblin full bore every five minutes or so.

       Suspiria gets an easy recommendation. While it doesn’t do much to stretch the borders of giallo, it is a master class on shot composition that is worth it to watch for the technique of it as much as for the entertainment aspect. If the endless reboots of Halloween and Hellraiser looked like this then their franchises might have never gone on life support. Burn a witch, toast some marshmallows, and sit down with Suspiria this Halloween.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2022: Solaris (1972), directed by Andrei Tarkovsky

 

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune: 'Do You Love Me?' by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

       We saw Svankmajer, so how about another blast from the past? The last time we saw Andrei Tarkovsky on this list was with his 1979 film Stalker, way back in Marathon ‘16. Stalker was not only one of the best movies I watched that year, it was one of the best movies I’ve seen period, so much so that I think subconsciously avoided doing another of his films for fear that it was a one-time burst of genius and that I would be disappointed. A potent combination of paranoia and pretension, not fit for an unpaid amaetur film review blogger of my station. So let’s return to Tarkovsky, and a film so acclaimed that Hollywood tried to adapt it into a George Clooney vehicle, truly the highest honor one can bestow upon a film. Besides making it a background cameo for Space Jam 2 that is.

       Released in 1972, Solaris was directed by Andrei Tarkovsky, written by Tarkovsky and Fridikh Gorenshtein, and produced by Vyacheslav Tarasov through Mosfilm, based on the novel of the same name by Stanislaw Lem. Donatas Banionis stars as Dr. Kris Kelvin, a psychologist who agrees to undertake a visit to the space station orbiting the planet Solaris, a world of vast oceans and dense fog. Solaris has been something of a black eye for the scientific community over the years; Some have claimed that Solaris is an intelligent, thinking being, but no one has managed to prove it and the project is on its last legs, the station now housing only three scientists from the dozens that once resided in it before, with reports bordering on nonsense. Kelvin’s word could be the make or break moment.

       When Kelvin arrives at the satellite however, he finds a station in disrepair and one of the scientists dead, suicide. The cause? Solaris, in a fashion. It seems that after an experiment using x-rays Solaris suddenly began to react, and the results were ‘the guests’ -- thoughts and memories pulled from the dreams of the scientists and given form. Not hallucinations, but beings with a tangible, physical form. A revelation that throws Kelvin through a loop, especially after he comes face to face with Hari (Natalya Bondarchuk), his wife that had been dead for the past 10 years. Is this a happy reunion, or another tragedy waiting to happen?

       Before watching Solaris I saw a comment that said something to the effect of ‘Tarkovsky looks up at the stars and sees humanity longing for connection’, and there's definitely something to that. Or rather a longing in the face of failure. Mankind tries to connect with Solaris, which leads to the experiments which spawn ‘the guests’. Kelvin longs to reconnect with his wife which leads to Solaris spawning ‘Hari’, a simulacrum based on his memories of her. And what happens when Hari learns of her nature? Is she still Hari or has she become someone else entirely? Is this love, or just a memory of love? Is there a difference? It seems that Kelvin, and by extension the audience, are doomed to stumble around in the dark in regards to that question. 

       You could also pair this up with Stalker, although they’re not quite the same. Stalker dealt in the loss of faith, while Solaris is more the desire for it. Kelvin wants to give himself over to belief, he wants to be absorbed into the fantasy where his life hasn’t taken a downward turn. Whether or not this is a good thing I suppose is debatable; The final scene gives the impression of a sinister turn, but Tarkovsky spent a better part of two hours questioning what being ‘real’ or ‘human’ actually means, so I suppose it’s up to the viewer’s interpretation. More so than Stalker I’d say, with its definitely uplifting ending.

       Visually Solaris shares the most similarities with 2001: A Space Odyssey, although perhaps unsurprisingly Tarkovsky doesn’t really hit the special effects as hard as Kubrick. Then again Solaris doesn’t really need the flash, as the science fiction is more philosophical than theoretical, and it conveys the feeling of a run down space station just fine as it is. I especially like the way Tarkovsky portrays the planet of Solaris. It’s incredibly simple, a color filter and some fog effects, but it captures the feel of an alien world.

       Solaris gets an easy recommendation. Where other science fiction films of the period could be gleefully esoteric and obscurantist in its messaging, Tarkovsky is clear without being blunt and meditative without being pondering. While it didn’t affect me as strongly as Stalker, I’d read Lem’s Solaris back in college so I knew what to expect to some degree and also Stalker was just that powerful of a movie, Solaris is a fantastic film and a must-have for any aspiring cinephile's watch queue. The acting, the atmosphere, the writing, it’s about as good as you can get. Cuddle up with the alien recreation of your dead loved ones this Halloween and enjoy.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2022: Faust (1994), directed by Jan Svankmajer

 

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune: 'Faust 72' by Dynastie Crisis

       One of the more common tropes in literature is the ‘deal with the devil’, wherein a character gives up something precious to them to a malevolent being in exchange for their heart’s desire. American blues legend Robert Johnson supposedly sold his soul to the Devil in exchange for his talent at the guitar, and there have been numerous other tales of artists and musicians doing the same over the years. Hell you could even classify the Ancient Greek myth of Orpheus as a ‘deal with the devil’ story, although Hades and Satan weren’t actually equivalent. However the archetypal example of this well-worn trope is the German legend of Faust, who made a deal with a demon in order to gain all of the world’s knowledge, which didn’t turn out so well for him. So famous is this story that the term ‘faustian’ has entered the popular vernacular, or at least the nerd vernacular.

       The tale of Faust has been adapted many times over the years; A famous play by Goethe, and of course several films. There was one by the great F.W. Murnau in 1926, and another by Peter Gorski in 1960, but the one we’re going to be looking at is 1994’s Faust, by Czech director Jan Svankmajer. Svankmajer, if you’ll recall, is the mind behind that stop-motion adaptation of Alice in Wonderland, which is by far the creepiest version of the story I’ve ever seen. I was interested in seeing how he would tackle things that are meant to be scary, like demons, so here we are.

       Released in 1994, Faust was written and directed by Jan Svankmajer and produced by Jaromir Kallista through Athanor, BBC, CNC and Pandora Filmproduction, based on the play by Goethe. Petr Cepek stars as our protagonist, a man thoroughly unenthused about his life and the world at large. On a whim he decides to visit the location on a flier handed out by two men, which turns out to be a theater putting on a production of ‘Faust’, and it turns out our protagonist is playing the lead role. Not being a theater person our protagonist tries to leave, but it seems that the show must go on, whether he wants it to or not. And furthermore, what is the difference between the play and reality anyway?

       As a story, Goethe’s Faust is pretty straight-forward. Faust, feeling the limitations of human knowledge and ability, rejects god and sells his soul to the devil in exchange for knowledge and power, only to realize that this attachment to the world is what keeps him from true knowledge, i.e. knowledge of god. Svankmajer’s Faust follows a similar path. Our protagonist is unsatisfied with his life, and so assumes the role of Faust in order to gain a sense of power and purpose, not realizing that once committed that you can’t just go back on it. Our protagonist works with puppets and eventually becomes a puppet himself, struggling against the inevitability of his fate. A counterpoint to Goethe, who emphasized unquestioning devotion to god, a willing ‘puppet’ if you will, or a compliment, as our protagonist cavorts with the devil and pays the price? The film is presented in an intensely surreal manner, with the nature of time and space heavily distorted, so I suppose it could be both and neither at once.

       Of course the main reason I picked this version was for the visuals, and Svankmajer doesn’t disappoint. The man has an eye for decay, every other scene this film finds itself in new forms of squalor, from deteriorating apartments to stuffy backstage areas and rotting church basements. The stop motion animation is incredibly dynamic, a little herky-jerky but just seeing the myriad ways that Svankmajer twists and morphs Mephistopheles is a fascinating bit of filmmaking. Then of course there are the puppets, or perhaps marionettes is the better word, life-size marionettes that look like they were pulled out of Toulon’s basement. The marionettes are really what made this movie, not only because they perform the play the film is centered around and perform most of the dialogue but they are also creepy as hell. Seeing them interact with real people, the unnatural way they engage with the real world, helps to develop the absurdism of the whole thing. If you’ve got even a slight phobia of dolls however you might want to steer clear.

       Potential issues with Faust are much the same as with any surreal or absurdist film, those who prefer their stories straight-forward will likely find this incomprehensible and thus insufferable. There’s also some depictions of gore and sexuality that some viewers might find uncomfortable, in spite of them being performed by marionettes. Not a lot, but certainly enough to enhance the sense of the bizarre.

       Faust gets the recommendation. Much like his adaptation of Lewis Carroll, Svankmajer manages to twist and turn it in such a way that it feels almost wholly unique and thoroughly unsettling. I was also, much like with his previous film, captivated the whole way through. He certainly doesn’t make family films, but if you’re looking for something particularly out there this Halloween then Faust is the film for you.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2022: Mr. Go (2013), directed by Kim Yong-hwa

 

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune: 'Walk of Life' by Dire Straits

       I might have commented on this before, but it really seems like Korea and its culture has really been making inroads in the U.S. for the past couple of years. Korean films are being lauded as some of the best in the medium, Korean food is appearing more and more in restaurants and grocery stores, and Kpop groups have formed fanbases more powerful and obsessive than some religions. Even manga, the most successful of Japanese exports, has seen its dominance challenged by Korean manhwa. Even on this year’s Marathon, a Korean film is going to place higher than films from Japan, Sweden and Spain, which would be the greatest honor if the placement meant anything on this list. And to think, it’s all thanks to Gangnam Style.

       Released in 2013, Mr. Go was written and directed by Kim Yong-hwa and produced by Yoo Jin-woo through Dexter Films, based on ‘The 7th Team’ by Huh Young-man. Xu Jiao stars as Zhao Wei Wei, a fifteen year old girl and head of the Ronghua Circus who is forced to take on the gambling debt of her grandfather after he dies in an earthquake. The only thing of value she could sell is their star attraction Ling Ling, a lowland gorilla who has been trained to play baseball, and Wei Wei’s not interested in that. She might not have to sell at all however, when the Ronghua Circus is visited by Seong Chung-su (Sung Dong-il), an agent for the Korean Baseball Organization. Yes, Seong wants Ling Ling to play baseball in Korea, and the big fat contract he’s offering would be enough to pay off Wei Wei’s debts and get a new circus off the ground. Sounds too good to be true, but of course the life of a professional athlete isn’t all fun and games, especially when you’re a member of the great ape family. Will Wei Wei and Ling Ling be able to make it big in Korea and save the circus? Grab your banana and find out.

       So yeah, this is basically a Korean version of Air Bud, complete with a ‘there’s nothing in the rule book that says an X can’t play X’ scene. Fair play to Yong-hwa though, as this film is far more ambitious than Air Bud ever was. The cinematography is excellent, the CG for Ling Ling looks surprisingly good for 2013, and the film actually tries to tell a story about found family and how we treat animals. This is an actual, proper movie, rather than something you’d put on so the kids shut up for a while, which just goes to show you the power of Korean cinema.

       That being said, did this really need to be over 2 hours long? The first 50 minutes is like a film unto itself; We get the introduction, Ling Ling enters the game, gets super popular, big climactic moment where it turns out a gorilla probably shouldn’t be on a baseball field, that’s really all you need, but it just keeps going on and on. The film uses that time, sure, but given that we only really focus on the two main characters and a gorilla for 85 percent it gets a bit tiresome waiting around for their arc to kick in. King Kong was able to tell its story in less than two hours, I’m not sure why Mr. Go can't get the job done.

       Mr. Go gets a mild recommendation. It’s a slightly silly, largely wholesome film that you can watch with the kids and maybe tear up a bit, which isn’t something I can say about any other Korean movie I’ve covered on this blog. I wouldn’t call it a must-see example of cinema though, so if you’re not up for watching a gorilla play baseball at the moment then you’ll be fine leaving it on the queue for a while. Why you wouldn’t want to see that I have no idea.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2022: Blancanieves (2012), directed by Pablo Berger

 

The Trailer

and

The Appropriate Tune: 'Matador' by Los Fabulosos Cadillacs

       On such a literary-minded Marathon it only makes sense that we would get at least one movie based on a fairy tale. I mean that’s what you’d call meat and potatoes storytelling, before the novel, before the population was mostly literate, fairy tales were a way to impart knowledge onto your descendents, and unlike many aspects of our past they’ve managed to stick around. Not as the cautionary tales and social lessons they once were, but as fuel for other stories, comics, video games, and of course films. Which is fine, unless you’re a goth I think we can agree it’s better to exist than to not exist.

       Released in 2012, Blancanieves was written and directed by Pablo Berger and produced by Berger, Jerome Vidal and Ibon Cormenzana, based on the story Snow White attributed to the Brothers Grimm. It’s the turn of the century in Spain, and everybody is talking about the great matador Antonio Villalarta and his lovely wife Carmen (Macarena Garcia, who also plays their adult daughter). That is until the fateful day when Antonio was gored, leaving him a quadriplegic, and his wife died in childbirth. Pretty sad, but it gets even sadder when Antonio falls under the influence of the beautiful (and evil) Encarna (Maribel Verdu), who completely takes over Antonio’s life and his fortune. Then it gets even sadder when that little girl’s guardian and grandmother dies and she is forced to move in with her invalid father and her evil stepmother, where she’s constantly abused and treated like a slave. But just wait until little Carmen grows up and we start throwing murder into the mix! It’s like the Coachella of depression this time around!

       The first thing you notice when watching Blancanieves is the visuals. Pablo Berger doesn’t just take the Snow White story and place it in the 1920’s, he goes full on 20’s tribute and makes this a black and white silent film. We’ve seen a couple silent film revivals on this blog, the first one that comes to mind being Call of Cthulhu, but this might be the best looking of the bunch. The costumes, the architecture, the camera effects, it all feels like it was lifted directly from the period, while maintaining the crisp imagery of modern cinema. It’s not fully visual storytelling, you can tell there’s certain parts where Berger couldn’t figure out a way to get info across without a bunch of dialogue cards, but I certainly appreciate the effort, as this didn’t have to be a silent film at all.

       The other thing you might do is question who this film is for, because it’s certainly not children. I’m not even talking about the violence, although this film is chock full of that, because everyone and their mother are aware of how the Grimm’s fairy tales were a lot darker than Disney would have you believe at this point. I’m talking about the BDSM references, the sexual assault, and the general air of hopelessness that seems out of place. Where the message of the original story was that as long as you’re a good person things will work out in the end, the message of Blancanieves appears to be that life is one long parade of suffering and that you can’t even rely on death to give you any sense of relief. Which might be more ‘realistic’ I suppose, but then most folk don’t really read fairy tales for the sense of realism do they? If I wanted to feel bad I’d just look in a mirror, I don’t need a Snow White movie to do it for me.

       Ultimately though I’m giving Blancanieves a mild recommendation. While I wasn’t in the right headspace for it, the film does look great and seeing the classic fairy reinterpreted through a modernist lens is sure to be appealing to some. You don’t even have to worry about subtitles, what more could you ask of a foreign film? Besides a free cheeseburger after every viewing.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2022: City Hunter (1993), directed by Wong Jing

 The Trailer

and

The Appropriate Tune: 'City Hunter (Sing Si Lip Yan)' by Jackie Chan

       Are there films from China and Hong Kong that are based on novels that I could have done? Of course, some of the most famous and successful stories of all time came from China, and they’ve been adapted to film dozens of time. Are there films from China and Hong Kong that don’t star Jackie Chan? Yes, in fact we’ve even covered some in the past Marathons. But god damn it sometimes you just want to watch Jackie Chan do wacky and incredibly dangerous stunts, which for me is every October in between 30 other movies. Also I believe this is the movie where Jackie Chan cosplays as Chun-Li from Street Fighter, and I can’t truly die until I see that. That’s not hyperbole by the way, I was actually cursed by a witch last summer who was really into martial arts movies.

       Released in 1993, City Hunter was written and directed by Wong Jing and produced by Chua Lam through Golden Harvest, Paragon Films and Golden Way Films, based on the popular manga series by Tsukasa Hojo. Jackie Chan stars as Ryu Saeba, the private detective known as City Hunter, although he seems to prefer pretty ladies and eating over solving cases. Today Ryu has been hired by newspaper magnate Mr. Imamura to find his daughter Kiyoko, who in a fit of teenage rebellion has run away from home. Simple enough, until the case moves onto the luxury liner Fuji Maru, which aside from having its maiden voyage is also being targeted by an international gang of thieves. Now Ryu not only has to recover Kiyoko, but he also has to stop a boat hijacking while trying to salvage his relationship with his assistant Kaori. All on an empty stomach! What’s a poor City Hunter to do?

       Going into this movie, my first question was ‘how are they going to make Jackie Chan suave’? I mean you look at how Hojo drew City Hunter and it gives the impression that Ryu is the smooth, Han Solo type of badass, and while I’ll always contend that Jackie Chan is cool it was always based more so on what he could do rather than how he acted. Well it turns out the answer is ‘they didn’t’. Out of all of Jackie’s films that I’ve covered on this blog, City Hunter is far and away the goofiest, with some kind of gag or joke just about every minute. If you remember Roger Rabbit and the ways Zemeckis interpreted cartoon visual gags into live action, it’s very much the same for City Hunter, whose antics feel straight out of the anime trope handbook. Perhaps even more than Roger Rabbit, which at least had the benefit of a toon environment. City Hunter has folk transforming in video game characters and getting hit with comically oversized hammers with no attempt at reconciling it with reality.

       Which I guess could be considered City Hunter’s biggest flaw, depending on your connection to the source material. Having never really read City Hunter or watched any of its numerous OVAs I have no idea if this film could be considered a loving tribute or outright parody of Hojo’s work. I can tell you that it doesn’t take itself or its story seriously; Even at the very beginning of the film where Ryu is discussing the brutal murder of his former partner the scene is done in a very slapstick manner, so there’s very little in the way of emotional weight or depth. Yet the film is written in such a way that it kind of expects you to understand the references? Is this Tim Burton’s Batman or more like The Guyver?  I dunno, the whole thing ends up feeling like a fever dream by the end, hyperactive and often horrifyingly incoherent.

       One thing that is consistent however is the action, because Chan knows his audiences. Nothing especially elaborate/bone breaking, but the level of stunt and fight choreography is still leagues above others in the field, which is only compounded by the cartoonish elements. The Street Fighter tribute is a definite highlight, but I also really loved the climax of the film with the dancing gunplay and the final fight, which is a great showcase of Chan’s agility and dexterity. The man is a living highlight reel.

       City Hunter gets the recommendation. While the overwhelming goofiness could be a turn off to some, don't really need a running gag of a dude trying to bang his cousin, it maintains the level of action quality that Golden Harvest built its legacy on, so if not acceptable it’s at least tolerable. Pair it up with Wheels on Meals for more wacky kungfu antics.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2022: The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2009), directed by Niels Arden Oplev

 

The Trailer

and

The Appropriate Tune: 'No Rest For the Wicked' by Lykke Li

       The 00’s have been the Golden Age of films based on books. From Harry Potter to Twilight, Hunger Games to the DaVinci Code, film adaptations were enjoying the most success they’d seen since the dawn of Hollywood. Millions, if not billions of dollars pouring into the box office, and studios were riding high on the hog, ready to exploit this cash cow as long as it kept giving milk. There was an amount of backlash of course, mostly from terminally online dudes desperate for the world to know they don’t like these movies made for women and children, but nothing that could really curb the momentum.at the time. It was a YA world, and we were all just living in it.

       The Millennium Trilogy slides right into the ‘also-ran’ category of this boom period. I can remember the buzz around the books when I was younger, I can remember seeing previews for the movie adaptation starring Daniel Craig, but then things just fizzled out. Stieg Larsson, the author of the books had died before the books had even released, so there was always going to be a hard limit to how far studios could ride this gravy train, but after the initial buzz wore off it seemed like America was utterly uninterested in anything Swedish that wasn’t related to meatballs or Abba. That’s how it was for me, a collection of weird titles and covers languishing in the back of my memory like a rusty car frame in the backyard, so when I decided on the theme for this year’s Marathon I figured that October was a good time to do some spring cleaning. Mentally speaking, I’m still a very messy person.

       Released in 2009, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo was directed by Niels Arden Oplev, written by Rasmus Heisterberg and Nikolaj Arcel, and produced by Soren Staermose through Yellow Bird, ZDF Enterprise and others, based on the novel of the same name by Stieg Larsson. Michael Nyqvist stars as Mikael Blomkvist, an investigative journalist and publisher of Millennium magazine whose career is in limbo after being set up to lose a libel case against a local corrupt capitalist. With only a hefty fine and some jail time to look forward to, Blomkvist is approached by Henrik Vanger, member of the Vanger Group. Vanger is looking to hire Blomkvist to find out who murdered his niece Harriet, who disappeared from the family manor some 40 odd years ago, and with nothing better to do with his time Blomkvist agrees. However Mikael can’t do it alone, and luckily he won’t have to, after a meeting with the mysterious Lisbeth Salander (Noomi Rapace), a professional hacker with a penchant for investigation and a chip on her shoulder. Together they will dig into the history of the Vanger family in the hope of finding Harriet’s killer, but when you’re as rich a family as the Vangers you’re bound to have more than one skeleton in their closet.

        A rich family with a dark secret is a plot line that stretches back to Gothic fiction, but Dragon Tattoo does attempt some things to set it apart from the rest of the pack. There’s our female lead Lisbeth for example, the bisexual punk rocker girl with a mysterious past who’s also a professional hacker, which sounds like some Mary Sue stuff but doesn’t really come across that way in the story. Then there’s all the rape, which I’m sure was meant to make things feel ‘real’ and edgy, but I could have done without it.

       I also could have gone without this movie being 2 and a half hours long. Of course when you’ve got a mystery story you want to drip feed information, but everything has a limit. Lisbeth practically has a movie all her own before she even links up with the main plot, and when the mystery is all but solved it still takes an hour to actually wrap things up. Really the movie isn’t bad but it runs on for so long it ended up killing my motivation to write about it.

       I also can’t help but question the motives behind the story. While Lisbeth would go on to become more prominent across the trilogy, it does seem a little telling that Larsson, a journalist and activist, would make the main character of his book a super successful journalist and activist who all the ladies fall for, even women half his age. Which I mean okay, there’s nothing wrong with a little wish fulfillment, but it probably would have been better to do it in a story that didn’t include multiple rape scenes. Look at James Bond for example, power fantasies out the ass with nary a rape scene in sight.

       The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo gets a mild recommendation. If one can maintain their concentration throughout then I imagine the film being appealing to anyone who is a fan of Seven, Zodiac or any of those epic 21st century crime thrillers. Otherwise it’s like a long, uncomfortable car ride, but everyone is talking Swedish. A nightmarish scenario if ever I’ve heard one.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2022: Memories (1995), directed by Katsuhiro Otomo, Koji Morimoto and Tensai Okamura

 

The Trailer

and

The Appropriate Tune: 'Memories.' by Chromonicci

       Anime is big business these days, and a big part of that big success is in what experts call the ‘anime movie’. Call it cringey or kiddy if you want, but there’s no denying that some of the most successful films in recent times have been animated films from Japan. Didn’t that movie based on Demon Slayer make like a billion dollars at the box office? And those two Dragonball Z movies hit number 1 in the U.S., right? Wild.

       If you were to ask the average person on the street about the directors of these Japanese animated movies however, the only name you’re likely to hear is Hayao Miyazaki. Which is unfortunate, because even though Miyazaki’s reputation is well earned, reducing any segment of art down to a single creator does a disservice to art itself. So how about we use our anthology movie pick of the Marathon to put a spotlight on some new guys, and a guy that loyal blog readers have seen before.

       Released in 1995, Memories was directed by Katsuhiro Otomo, Koji Morimoto and Tensai Okamura, written by Otomo and Satoshi Kon, and produced by Atsushi Sugita, Fumio Sameshima, Yoshimasa Mizuo, Hiroaki Inoue, Eiko Tanaka and Masao Maruyama through Studio 4°C and Madhouse, based on manga by Katsuhiro Otomo. In ‘Magnetic Rose’ (directed by Morimoto) a down-on-their-luck team of salvagers in 2092 respond to a distress signal on an enormous abandoned spacecraft once owned by a famous opera singer, although it seems to be home to something else now. In ‘Stink Bomb’ (directed by Okamura), bumbling scientist Nobuo Tanaka takes an experimental drug to cure his cold only to accidentally become a weapon of mass destruction in the process. Finally Otomo himself takes the lead in ‘Cannon Fodder’, a slice of life story centered around a family in a city so dedicated to warfare that the whole of society is centered around firing cannons, although who exactly they’re firing these cannons at is something of a mystery. Topics such as obsession, the persistence of memory, fascism and how other people at the comic convention feel when you refuse to shower or use deodorant will be addressed.

       When it comes to anthology films, especially those based on the works of one person, it can sometimes be difficult for each story to stand out. Animation helps to alleviate that problem; While all three stories feature a kind of violent morbidity that feel right inside the wheelhouse of the man behind Akira, the fact that each story features a radically different art style really helps to distinguish one from the other. Magnetic Rose uses a more realist style that modern anime fans would find reminiscent of films like Perfect Blue and Paprika, Stink Bomb is brings to mind the work of Naoki Urasawa (‘20th Century Boys’, ‘Billy Bat’), while Cannon Fodder brings to mind Pink Floyd’s The Wall and Monty Python. Of the three Cannon Fodder looks the most unlike what you’d expect from an anime film, with its heavily shaded, heavily stylized people stuck in a fascistic hell of steam and heavy industry, and it’s the one I like the most. Although at the end of the day all three look good, and they’re all animated with the degree of quality you’d expect from Madhouse, which has gone on to become Japan’s premier anime studio.

       Of course in all anthology films there’s always a centerpiece story, whether intentional or otherwise. For the Twilight Zone movie it was NIghtmare at 20,000 feet, and for Memories it’s certainly Magnetic Rose. It’s the longest of the three segments, and certainly the most ambitious in both what it’s trying to say and what it’s trying to show on a visual level. Those coming into this film from Akira will likely find the greatest level of familiarity with Rose as well, high-concept science fiction involving the nature of reality featuring highly fluid animation, and of the three it’s the only one that feels like it could have been expanded into its own feature-length film without much issue. I don’t know if I would have done that though personally, as I think the contrast between Rose and the more comedic, stranger stories really elevates the entire film.

       Diverse art styles pair well with diverse music. Anime fans will be pleased to see the name Yoko Kanno as the composer for Magnetic Rose, who would later go on to score the legendary Cowboy Bebop. Jun Miyake provides a little bit of ska for Stink Bomb, and Fumitoshi Ishino of techno group Denki Groove bookends the film with some hard dance beats. It’s a soundtrack made for vinyl, that’s the thing that comes to mind now.

       Memories gets the recommendation. It’s not a film on the level of Akira, but then most movies aren’t, but it is a showcase of incredible talent and a love letter to the art of animation. Probably not something you’ll want to watch with the kids, a bit too dark for that, but grab a friend or two this Halloween and you’ll have a good time. Although if you’re trying to watch anime on Halloween having any friends at all might be too much to ask.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2022: Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988), directed by Robert Zemeckis

 

The Trailer

and

The Appropriate Tune: 'The Merry-Go-Round Broke Down' by Eddy Duchin

       People have been combining animation with live action for about as long as animation. Animation is a very costly process after all, and if you can cut down on the amount of animation by sticking some dude next to a cartoon mouse you can save a lot of cash. Of course the problem with that is the same problem we see with the advent of CGI, in that it can be really fucking hard for an actor to give a decent performance acting across from something that doesn’t exist, or a director to get you to believe that this thing that doesn’t exist is interacting with the real world. Some people don’t bother putting in the work, and are fine with stopping at the illusion. This isn’t about those people.

       Released in 1988, Who Framed Roger Rabbit was directed by Robert Zemeckis, written by Jeffrey Price and Peter S. Seaman and produced by Frank Marshall and Robert Watts through Touchstone Pictures, Amblin Entertainment and Silver Screen Partners, based on the novel “Who Censored Roger Rabbit?” by Gary K. Wolf. It’s the year 1947 and in this Golden Age of Hollywood there’s nothing hotter than cartoons, especially since Toons are living, breathing things in this world. One of the big names in the biz is Maroon Studios, home of the famous Roger Rabbit (Charles Fleischer), except lately Roger’s home life has been affecting his work, and therefore Maroon’s bottom line. The owner, R. K. Maroon, hires private investigator and Toon hater Eddie Valiant (Bob Hoskins) to dig up dirt on Roger’s wife Jessica, and dig it up he does, capturing her in the act with cartoon bigwig Marvin Acme. There, job done, only the next day Eddie learns that Acme has been murdered (the ol’ safe to the head gag) and that Roger is the prime subject, only Roger claims that he had nothing to do with Acme’s death. Toons loved Acme and Acme loved Toons after all, so much so that in his will he left the ownership of Toontown to them, a will that has since gone missing. So now Eddie has to find the will and unravel this jumbled mess of a mystery, all the while dodging Toontown’s personal gestapo Judge Doom (Christopher Lloyd) and his Toon Patrol, who have a strict ‘kill first and don’t ask questions’ policy. It’s the kind of thing that’ll make you take up drinking, so it’s a good thing Eddie’s already an alcoholic.

        As I wrote before, combining animation and live action had been a thing for a while, as had the idea of cartoon characters being actors (particularly by the Looney Tunes), but Roger Rabbit takes it a step further. This isn’t just a world where a person might interact with a cartoon character under special circumstances, this is the real world but with Toons in it. They have their own neighborhood, they have jobs outside of show business, they have relationships with themselves and with humans, they have the capacity for good acts as well as evil ones, essentially it’s like if Los Angeles had a prominent ethnic minority that also happen to be nigh-immortal chaotic demigods. Although the ethical and moral questions of the Toon’s status as a minority aren't really touched upon in the film, this melding of the fantastical with the modern would prove to be a popular combination as time went on, as shows like Bojack Horseman would prove. The particular blend of cartoon innocence with the sex-and-violence grit of noir that we see in Roger Rabbit however still feels unlike anything else going on. Except for Cool World, but that movie sucked ass.

       It’s not just that you’ve got people and cartoons interacting that makes Roger Rabbit work, it’s how the cartoons interact with the real world. When a Toon is in an area with low light he’s shadowed just like a real person would be, when they grab a dusty chair they leave a handprint, when they rush through a room objects are pushed out of the way. You wouldn’t think it would be that big of a deal but that, plus the fantastic work by the cast, goes a long way in giving the cartoons a physical weight and legitimizing the premise. Although it’s not as flashy as the special effects as Star Wars or Dune, the amount of work Zemeckis, his team, and especially the animators put into making it look as good as it does must have been staggering.

       Another thing that Roger Rabbit has over Cool World? Name recognition. One of the wildest things about this movie is how it is absolutely stacked with famous cartoons. Betty Boop, Woody Woodpecker, and a cavalcade of characters from Disney and Warner Brothers, with A-listers like Mickey Mouse and Bugs Bunny sharing the screen for the first time. While most of these amount to little more than glorified cameos, having them around at all gives the film an air of legitimacy that just couldn’t have been achieved with original characters. Like if you were making a movie set in 40’s Hollywood and had a chance to get Humphrey Bogart or Clark Gable as they looked then to appear in your film you’d jump at the chance, and getting a bunch of drawings is way easier than that. Bakshi knew enough to get his own version of Jessica Rabbit in Cool World to appeal to…certain audiences, but when Zemeckis can have his characters feeding Dumbo peanuts or watching Donald and Daffy Duck on dueling pianos, the fact that they’re there, blows anything Bakshi could try completely out of the water.

       As for the human cast, this might have been my first exposure to Bob Hoskins as a kid, that or the Mario Bros. movie, and it’s still crazy to me that the man was from the U.K. He so completely embodies the idea of a hardboiled American P.I. you’d think he was a husky, surprisingly mobile Sam Spade. Christopher Lloyd, who was on a genre film hot streak in the latter half of the 80’s after appearing in Back to the Future, Star Trek III, Clue, and The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai, puts on yet another amazing performance as Judge Doom. Going from the lovable wacky Doc Brown to the ghoulish, almost demonic Doom would seem like it’d be a hard sell, but Lloyd has this particular presence about him that makes the transition from serious to silly characters a lot easier than it is for others. Also I didn’t realize this until just now, but Eddie’s love interest Dolores is played by Joana Cassidy, who we saw previously as Zhora in Blade Runner. Small world, am I right?

       As for criticisms, would it be weird to say that I don’t have any? Not that Roger Rabbit, or any movie really could be considered ‘perfect’, but having seen this movie several times by this point there’s nothing that really stands out to me in that regard. Yeah the full mystery after it is revealed is a bit silly, but it’s a movie where the prime suspect in a murder is a talking cartoon rabbit, I wasn’t expecting Chinatown. Yeah there’s a lot of telling and not showing in the latter half, but they include enough action and suspense to keep the audience invested. Yeah they don’t explain how Toons exist in this world the way they do, how long they’ve been around, or much of anything about them, but it never really needed to in the first place. It’s a detective story with cartoons in it not the Silmarillion, as long as you can accept the premise any amount of worldbuilding they do is just icing on the cake.

       Who Framed Roger Rabbit gets an easy recommendation. As a young cartoon fan the film was mind blowing (the whole thing, not just the parts with Jessica), and as an adult cartoon fan I can appreciate the craftsmanship and how Zemeckis maintains the balance between two disparate parts of the movie world, and I imagine most in a similar position would feel the same. Those with young children might find it a bit raunchy, but otherwise it makes for a perfect family film for Halloween. Pour everyone a glass of scotch and have a great time.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2022: A New Leaf (1971), directed by Elaine May

 

The Trailer

and

The Appropriate Tune: 'A New Leaf' by Jimmy Reed

       Elaine May isn’t really a household name these days, but that certainly isn’t for lack of talent. At one time, that being the 1950’s, you could even call her cutting edge, as she and her Mike Nichols took the burgeoning world of TV by storm with their heavily satirical, largely improvisational sketch comedy. When the team broke up May would still have a presence in TV and theater, but most importantly for this blog she would also move into the movie business. Originally just an actor, she would quickly move into the writing game, and even get a shot at directing a couple times as well. Sometimes that didn’t end up too well, like the infamous Warren Beatty/Dustin Hoffman flop Ishtar that put the nail in the coffin of her directorial career for good, but she also co-wrote Labyrinth so let’s see what else she’s got in the tank.

       Released in 1971, A New Leaf was written and directed by Elaine May and produced by Hillard Elkins, Howard W. Koch and Joseph Manduke, based on the short story “The Green Heart” by Jack Ritchie. Walter Matthau, the world’s youngest senior citizen, stars as Henry Graham, an unrepentant trust fund leech that has just recently learned that he is completely broke. With no skills or ambitions Graham is horrified to discover that the only hope he has to continue his life of luxury is to get married, but as long as he murders his wife after the money is secured then it shouldn’t be an issue. After some searching he stumbles upon Ms. Henrietta Lowell (Elaine May), a clumsy and bookish botany professor with no relatives and a big fat bank account, and immediately gets started on his devious plot. Who knew that both marriage and murder could be such hard work?

       We’ve covered another comedic film about spousal murder earlier on this list, Danny Devito’s The War of the Roses, and I’d say the main point of difference between the two is in the tone. War of the Roses is about the end of a relationship, and the increasingly petty and insane ways they try to get rid of each other. A New Leaf is about the start of a relationship, and a man so labor-averse and so disinterested in other people that he’s willing to murder a wife he barely knows being forced into so much work in order to achieve his goal. Both have elements of gallows humor but Roses is of a negative bent, while Leaf is a positive one, and between the two I find the latter far more entertaining. Not that I can’t enjoy cynical humor, I just find more enjoyment out of seeing someone confident in their own abilities suffer because of those same abilities. It’s the same reason I’ve watched more Wile E. Coyote cartoons than I’ve watched episodes of Rick & Morty.

       Also similar to Roses is the fact that this film is built on the strength of the leads. I roasted Walter Matthau a little bit before but he is really damn good here, gifted with a Leslie Neilsen-like ability to play the fool with utter sincerity. Elaine May’s Henrietta is far from a high-society beauty, she’s a frumpy homebody with the hand eye coordination of Mr. Bean. The two don’t make for a Hollywood romance, and that’s what makes it work.

       A New Leaf gets the recommendation. It’s a little devious, a little silly, and as a comedy from the early 70s the humor holds up a lot better than I thought it would. Married couples are an obvious target, but I think that anyone who is a fan of the golden age revival comedies like Mouse Hunt or Brain Donors would also appreciate A New Leaf, although the humor is primarily dialogue based rather than slapstick. Maybe John Hughes fans as well, although those are far less farcical. In any case, it’s certainly given me incentive to engage with more of Elaine May’s films, and I hope it eventually does the same for you.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2022: Scott Pilgrim vs. the World (2010), directed by Edgar Wright

 

The Trailer

and

The Appropriate Tune: 'Garbage Truck' by Sex Bob-omb

       Scott Pilgrim has been hanging over my head for years. As someone who was coming of age during the rise of youtube, and consumed large amounts of video game based content on that platform, I was inundated by talk about Scott Pilgrim. How cool it was, how it incorporated video game references, how people were seeing it two or three times, and so on and on. You’d think it was the biggest cult film of the age, and maybe it was, but that still didn’t make me see it. Not because of any adolescent ‘hate what’s popular’ behavior, I just didn’t get around it at the time, and not doing something is always easier than doing something. So let’s do something now.

       Released in 2010, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World was directed by Edgar Wright, written by Wright and Michael Bacall, and produced by Wright, Eric Gitter, Nira Park and Marc Platt through Marc Platt Productions, Big Talk Films, Closed on Mondays Entertainment and Dentsu, based on the graphic novel series by Bryan Lee O’Malley. Michael Cera stars as the titular Scott Pilgrim, a 22 slacker living it up in the greatest city on Earth, Toronto. Scott’s life is a simple one; fooling around with his garage band Sex Bob-omb, and hanging out with his 17 year old Chinese girlfriend Knives Chau, but everything changes when he meets the literal girl of his dreams, Ramona Flowers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead). Now he’s all about Ramona, and she’s kinda about Scott too, only there’s a catch. 7 catches actually, in the form of The League of Evil Exes, a parliament of prior paramours dedicated to destroying any new figures in Ramona’s love life, namely Scott. So if Scott wants to get with Ramona, he’s going to have to defeat all 7 exes in mortal kombat first. Can Scott succeed in his quest of romance? Can Sex Bob-omb win the Battle of the Bands? Probably.

       After building up a respectable resume in British TV, including the cult classic series Spaced, Edgar Wright made a successful jump onto the silver screen in the mid 00’s with Shaun of the Dead and later Hot Fuzz. Both films, and Spaced, established what would become known as Edgar Wright’s filmmaking ‘style’ to the world at large: sharp use of montage, highly choreographed action sequences, surreal even absurd humor and protagonists who firmly fall into the ‘loser slash outcast’ territory. Scott Pilgrim follows that trend while also pushing the envelope firmly with both hands, resulting in one of, if not his most visually ambitious film. There had been other comic book films before Pilgrim but none that had really played with comic books, using visual representation of sound effects in gags, cutaways and such. Similarly there had been films that were based on or referenced video games before Scott Pilgrim, but none that felt as giddy about it as Pilgrim. Scott’s getting power-ups, he’s got an on-screen score, defeated characters explode into quarters (or loonies I guess), and fighters move like they turned on god-mode. Watching Scott Pilgrim it comes as no surprise why there was such a buzz for Edgar Wright to direct Ant-Man for so many years, because Wright had shown that could pull off super hero level action when he had the budget.

       This is also yet another movie with some pretty good music attached to it. The score was done by Nigel Godrich, most famous for his work with Radiohead, and the soundtrack is a who’s who of alternative rock. Metric, Broken Social Scene, Frank Black, Beck (who also wrote Sex Bob-omb’s songs), and so on and on. Going from garage rock explosions to 8bitcore and back again, it’s one of the best soundtracks of its day. In fact the closest I had gotten to Scott Pilgrim before this was hearing the soundtrack, because it was getting generous amounts of airplay at my college radio station long after the film left theaters.

       Beyond the music and impressive effects though, I’m not sure I actually really liked the movie? For example, the film loves speed and so there’s a lot of quick wordplay and sight gags, but there’s an artificiality to how the characters interact with each other during these moments that kept me from connecting to it, like I became very much aware that these were ‘actors’ rather than ‘people’. Also I hate Scott Pilgrim? Yes the whole idea is that Pilgrim is an asshole who grows out of it but he’s been such a whiny, neurotic douchebag for the past two hours it’s hard to care when that change does come, or care whether he succeeds in his goals at all. And no disrespect whatsoever to Mary Elizabeth Winstead, but Ramona Flowers doesn’t seem like the kind of person you’d kill seven people for. If at the end of the movie it turned out that they actually were incompatible after all and they grew as people by separating maybe I wouldn’t have minded, but as it is I had no investment in how this romance would pay off. Wallace was pretty cool though.

       Scott Pilgrim vs. the World gets a mild recommendation. I can definitely see why the film had such a cult following when it was released, and Edgar Wright is still someone worth keeping track of in Hollywood if he keeps making films like Baby Driver, but this one just wasn’t it for me. For those comic book geeks, anime geeks, music geeks and video game geeks out there, or for those who just watched Pixels and need a palate cleanse you’ll likely find something of value, but for those others I don’t think hipster relationship drama is going to hold their attention. Maybe if I moved to Toronto…

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2022: Coraline (2009), directed by Henry Selick

 

The Trailer

and

The Appropriate Tune: 'She's An Angel' by They Might Be Giants

       I’ve talked before about how Tim Burton gets all of the credit for The Nightmare Before Christmas in spite of being the producer, and how the director Henry Selick deserves some more recognition and respect. Unfortunately I wrote that in the review of Monkeybone, which isn’t exactly the greatest example of filmmaking acumen in the world. But this is a new year, a new Marathon, so why not give him another shot at blogging glory?

       Released in 2009, Coraline was directed by Henry Selick, written by Selick, and produced by Selick, Bill Mechanic, Claire Jennings, and Mary Sandell through Laika and Pandemonium Films, based on the novel by Neil Gaiman. Dakota Fanning provides the voice of the titular Coraline Jones, who has moved to the Pink Palace Apartments in scenic nowheresville. Not her choice of course -- she had friends, a life, back in Michigan. Now? Now she’s stuck in a run down mansion with parents who are too busy to spend time with her, and her neighbors are a bunch of weirdos. Life sucks, but one night Coraline is lured by strange mice to a strange door, which leads to an even stranger world. One similar to her own, but… different. In this place her parents aren’t stressed out and overworked, they’re fun and fancy free, and the world isn’t gray and miserable, it’s full of magic and wonder. It all seems too good to be true, and because this is a movie that’s probably the case. Because what happens when your dream world doesn’t let you leave?

It’s probably going too far to say that Coraline saved stop motion animation. Just four years prior Tim Burton had tried to double dip into his Nightmare Before Christmas with The Corpse Bride (with middling success), and adult swim was turning heads with Moral Orel and Robot Chicken, so it was still around if increasingly niche in the age of Flash animation. What Coraline did do however was to show the audience the power and the potential of modern technology to the medium. You watch Nightmare Before Christmas and while it’s still a masterful piece of art you can feel the limits of what Selick could get on screen. By the time of Coraline however you can tell it’s stop motion but it flows so smoothly that it’s easy to forget that it’s stop motion at all, and it does things effects wise that no other stop motion film had ever done before. It really put the wonder back into filmmaking, as well as put Laika on the map pretty much immediately. That Laika even still exists in the wasteland that is theatrical animation speaks to just how well they were able to utilize the momentum from this movie.

  For Nightmare Before Christmas it was Tim Burton, and for Coraline the big name was Neil Gaiman. Back in 1996 Gaiman parlayed his success in the comic book world into a career in show business, and 2007 in particular had seen two of his jobs, Stardust (based on his novel) and the animated Beowulf, make it to the big screen. Coraline was easily the most successful of the bunch, and that makes sense as ‘dark fairy tale’ is firmly in Gaiman’s wheelhouse, as well as Selick’s with his adaptation of James and the Giant Peach. I wouldn’t say he’s really breaking new ground, in fact Coraline bears a lot of similarities to Clive Barker’s “The Thief of Always”, but his fondness for the strange and the archaic comes through on the screen, or at least Selick’s adaptation of it. The name Tim Schafer comes to mind, the mind behind Psychonauts and Monkey Island, and I would say that’s an apt comparison. If you liked Psychonauts, you’d like Coraline.

One more thing I want to bring up is the score, composed by France’s Bruno Coulais. Going into this film I was expecting something along the lines of Nightmare Before Christmas, because obviously, but Coulais is not the same kind of composer as Danny Elfman. Elfman is forceful in his music, even when he’s being subtle he feels bombastic. Coulais by contrast is soft, often sparse, and the use of a children’s choir gives Coraline an atmosphere that is both ethereal and unsettling. It’s very unlike standard kid’s fare, in fact the comparison that keeps coming to mind is Akira, and I couldn’t help but love it. Music nerd that I am I also loved the cameo by They Might Be Giants, other bands wish they could do as much with a minute.

       Coraline gets an easy recommendation. It’s got the wonder that appeals to young kids, it’s got the edge that appeals to older kids, and it’s smart enough to appeal to parents. That’s what you want in a family movie, and it’s something in short supply in the days of Disney and Illumination. When Halloween rolls around and you’re looking for something to do with the kids, grab a bowl of popcorn and pop this one in. A treat that you don’t even have to leave the house for.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2022: Cotton Comes to Harlem (1970), directed by Ossie Davis

 

The Trailer

and

The Appropriate Tune: 'Black Enough' by Galt MacDermot

       If one were to judge the most successful films to come out of the ‘blaxploitation’ era of film, it would have to be Shaft. There were certainly films that were successful, Blacula, Super Fly, Dolemite, enough for some of them to get sequels, but they didn’t really persist outside of their time beyond the occasional reference or parody. Shaft not only got several sequels, but also a revival film, another revival film, and a couple comic books on the side. It’s not exactly a Star Wars level franchise, sure, but for a movie with a Black lead that catered primarily to a Black audience it managed an impressive amount of acclaim.

       However Shaft was not the only hardboiled crime story in the ‘blaxploitation’ genre, nor was it the only one based on a novel. So it was between this and Barry Shear’s classic crime film Across 110th Street, and this one was easier to find.

       Released in 1970, Cotton Comes to Harlem was directed by Ossie Davis, written by Davis and Arnold Perl and produced by Samuel Goldwyn Jr. through Formosa Productions. Godfrey Cambridge and Raymond St. Jacques star as Grave Digger Jones and Coffin Ed Johnson respectively, two Black cops working the beat in Harlem. In the year 1970 the man of the hour isn’t Jones or Ed, it’s the Reverend Deke O’Malley, who amassed quite the following in Harlem for his ‘Back to Africa’ movement. 87,000 dollars worth in fact, which is promptly stolen by a gang of masked gunmen, who manage to escape despite their getaway car exploding at one point. The only evidence left at the scene of the crime is a wad of unprocessed cotton, the kind typically shipped in bales. Where exactly are you supposed to find cotton in Harlem? Is O’Malley’s heart really in the right place? That’s what Ed and Jones are going to find out.

       In case you’re not from the U.S., the whole ‘Back to Africa’ thing was not an invention of this movie, but rather a persistent thread in Black communities going back to the early 20th century. The logic being that conditions were so bad in America for Black people that the only solution was to pack up and move back to ancestral Africa. America being a racist hellhole doesn’t matter if you don’t live in America anymore, and obviously the nations of Africa will be perfectly fine with thousands of people sailing in and deciding that they live there now. There’s a reason that the KKK listed Marcus Garvey as the ‘Black Moses’, and also why he eventually got caught scamming his followers, because the easiest grifts are the one pulled on the most vulnerable people. Yet in spite of my opinion it’s clear to see why such a movement had legs, and why the theft of that 87,000 hits so hard. It’s a paltry sum compared to the haul you usually see in movies, but to the people of Harlem that was their hopes and dreams up in smoke.

       As I said this is a hardboiled detective story, and if Shaft brought to mind the morally ambiguous tales of Raymond Chandler, then Cotton Comes to Harlem is more in line with Mickey Spillane. There’s nothing ambiguous here, Ed and Jones are a freight train barreling through the story with nothing but some snarky quips and a loaded revolver. Beating up a drug addict? Well he had useful information. Misleading fellow officers and disobeying direct orders from a superior? Well they’re white, so they don't matter. Shooting a guy in the stomach with a flare gun and lighting him on fire? Well it’s quicker than pulling out a gun and showing restraint. Slapping around a woman? Well it’s frowned upon, but she was working with the bad guy so it’s fine. Ed and Jones believe themselves to be in the right and so everything they do in the pursuit of their goal is justified, that they decide what the law and justice is and how its carried out. Which in a dramatic bit of coincidence places Cotton Comes to Harlem far closer to Dirty Harry than it ever does to Shaft. Arguably a more damning statement than the praise this film has for Marcus Garvey, as it encourages Black people to believe in and trust the police if the officers are Black as well, which is something that been used against Black communities in the past.

       This film also has a weird sense of humor, which has nothing to do with the kinds of jokes so much as it decided to add jokes in the first place. If it were limited strictly to those quips I mentioned you probably wouldn’t notice, but the amount of visual gags end up feeling incongruous. I mean this isn’t a pacifistic movie -- A lot of people die, quite violently, and there are enough explosions to make Chuck Norris nod his head in approval, but then you’ve got people getting a pie in the face and Redd Foxx as the lovable hobo. Again if the tone were satirical, even darkly satirical in the vein of Robocop it would’ve worked, but as it is the zig-zagging tone doesn’t feel quite right.

       By the way, the music here is done by Galt MacDermot, a Canadian musician who had previously done work for the film Woman is Sweeter. It’s not bad, but considering other blaxploitation films at the time had folks like Isaac Hayes and Curtis Mayfield at the helm it does come off as a bit underwhelming. Director Ossie Davis contributed lyrics to several of these songs and yep, they read like lyrics from someone who isn’t a songwriter by trade.

       Cotton Comes to Harlem doesn’t get the recommendation. While it’s perfectly fine on a technical level, enough so that crime movie fans will likely have a decent time, personally it never grabbed me. I think I’ll stick with Shaft for now.