Bohemian Cinema

Hellboy II: Beta Testing The Hobbit

pacheco@bohemiancinema.com (pacheco) — Fri, 11 Jul 2008 22:20:21 CDT

An excerpt from my review of Hellboy II: The Golden Army, featured at The House Next Door:

While waiting in line for the screening of Hellboy II: The Golden Army, I overhead someone say that Guillermo del Toro's latest is being seen as his audition tape for The Hobbit. He'd already gotten the gig before Hellboy II's release, but I imagine that the Mexican filmmaker pulled out some edited footage to show to Peter Jackson & Co. when bidding for the Tolkien prequel. Plenty of fans have already been sold on del Toro's ability to handle a project with the style and magnitude of The Hobbit, but I've felt that some of his more recent endeavors have failed to live up to their potential. Blade II was a very solid upgrade for that franchise, but I was burned by both the under-developed Pan's Labyrinth and the bogged-down first Hellboy. In Hellboy II, I was looking for a reason to believe in del Toro and, if anything, he does manage to give viewers a substantial hint of what to expect in Middle Earth.

Read the full review.

Stay tuned the next few days for some thoughts on Speed Racer as well as a few reviews.

"Wanted" - Dir. Timur Bekmambetov

pacheco@bohemiancinema.com (pacheco) — Tue, 08 Jul 2008 13:23:23 CDT

If you don't aspire to be much and you don't take yourself too seriously, you can't really "underachieve" can you? This is the question that Wanted toys with. Aside from some snazzy kill-shots and colliding bullets, this film just wants to thrill you in some of the same old ways. I laughed, I enjoyed, and I even recommended, but at the end of the day, I really don't know what to think of Wanted.

Ten minutes into Wanted, I couldn't believe that James McAvoy wasn't a household name. He's been in recognized films but his roles were never in the conversation; Atonement was a vehicle for its two female leads and The Last King of Scotland was Forest Whitaker's Oscar resume. Yet in Wanted I saw a bankable American star in McAvoy. Funny, relatable -- this was a side of the actor that I hadn't seen very often. I get the feeling that if this movie makes a good amount of money, we'll be seeing more of McAvoy in mainstream Hollywood, and I consider that to be a great thing.

As a sort of neo-Neo, McAvoy plays the cubicle drone Wesley, a man so pathetic that a quick Google of his name pulls in zero results. And that's not mentioning his chronic panic attacks, which, as displayed on film, are almost cool enough for me to crave his condition (almost). Wesley's work life is nothing we haven't seen before in films such as Office Space, but it's these scenes that slingshot much of Wanted's gleeful attitude. The film's sense of humor eventually fades, but at least these office scenes got the ball rolling.

As I discovered during Wanted's first big sequence (also the film's most entertaining), the movie has no delusions about itself: it's not subtle, and the only card it hides is the number of times it'll throw your high school Physics book out the window -- not necessarily a bad thing, since I hated Physics. If absurdity and embellishment bother you, then save your money.

We're treated to the basic "super-hero plot" as a "Fraternity of Assassins" kidnaps Wesley, tells him he has special abilities, begins his training.... The original graphic novel features a group of super-villains rather than assassins, and creator Mark Millar has stated that he sought to create an anti-Spider-man, anti-Matrix origin story. Instead of a hero who takes his newfound power and uses it for good, Millar wanted a character who would use his powers for selfish reasons -- and be okay with it. So you shouldn't be surprised at the fact that Wanted is either oblivious to the hundreds of innocent casualties that its characters render, or it just doesn't care. This would be fine except that the film pretends to care. Why else would it provide us with an entire flashback that explains how "killing one life could save a thousand"? The philosophy is used to soothe the conscience of a would-be assassin who, a few scenes later, plays a huge part in the deaths of hundreds of off-screen innocents. I suppose if they're out of sight, then they're out of mind.

Comparisons will and should be made to the first Matrix film; Wanted borrows a lot, from style to plot to story structure. For better or worse, it feels like a laid-back version of the Wachowski film, as if it were made by less-geeky people who didn't take their Anime so seriously. You get a much more relatable story, but you also get some loosey-goosey moments and a few shoddy effects along with it. There are times when Wanted would have benefited from taking itself a little more seriously instead of going for the easy laugh, but a part of me thinks that's part of the film's charm. These guys are just here to have fun.

But then we start dipping into the notion of "mindless entertainment," an idea I have a problem with. True, there are movies that are there just to blow things up and give you a good thrill, but...even the staunchest of popcorn flicks feels like it has a point -- even an elementary one -- doesn't it? Coming home after watching Wanted, beyond all the laughs, cool kills and bending bullets, and after the story had concluded, I couldn't help but wonder what the point of everything was. When we talk about movies being a pure exercise in style, I don't think we literally mean it, but like 300, I'm afraid that Wanted flirts with literally being an exercise in style.

So I'm a little conflicted. Am I or am I not okay with movies aiming low? Doesn't every film have the opportunity to be better? Isn't it kind of lazy to just settle for being a popcorn flick? Or is that acceptable? I know that every once in a while I don't feel like thinking too hard; I just want to see stuff blow up. I know this is normal, but is this right? Or is this something we've accepted because we've been conditioned by so many films like Wanted?

I'm powerless to raise Wanted's standards, but it might be time for me to raise my own.

There Will Be Blood: An Oil Odyssey

pacheco@bohemiancinema.com (pacheco) — Tue, 10 Jun 2008 08:23:05 CDT

NOTE: Contains major spoilers for There Will Be Blood and 2001: A Space Odyssey. Just saying.

Upon rewatching the beginning of There Will Be Blood, one thing struck me immediately -- something I'm shocked that I didn't realize before. The film begins with a blank screen, a title card, and then a fade from black. The score, however, consists of haunting, slowly-swelling strings. The sound immediately conjured thoughts of the overture from 2001: A Space Odyssey. If you hear to some audio samples, you can see the similarities.

After the title cards, each film fades into scenery of barren lands:

Pre-human Earth (above) compared to west Texas (below).

There Will Be Blood begins with Daniel Plainview chipping away with a pick-ax, looking for oil. As with 2001, there is no dialogue for a lengthy period as Plainview simply does "gruntwork." You can even find him squatting in the desert, resembling one of the apes of Kubrick's film.

Plainview's process of finding oil can be seen much like the process of the ape, the "Moon-Watcher," discovering "the tool": it's something that has the power to change forever.

And it does. 2001 makes the epic jump through millions of years, and after a short time, There Will Be Blood makes a jump as well; not millions of years, but Plainview has already evolved. Instead of the "grunt" with the axe, he's become an oil driller and self-proclaimed "family man."

At this second stage in their "evolution," the protagonists seek an elusive power -- in 2001 it was the power of survival, exploration, evolution, and of course the black monolith, while Plainview's quest was for the power the comes from being an oil baron. Along the way, they discover that perhaps their biggest adversaries were those who were supposed to help them, not hinder them. To Bowman's surprise, HAL grows a deadly personality and turns on the human. In There Will Be Blood, Plainview finds conflict with several parties: first and foremost with Eli, the town priest who insists that he wants to help the oil man.

Then there's the gentleman who claims to be Daniel's brother. The man does indeed try to help Daniel, but once Daniel discovers the man's true identity, he is perceived as an adversary, and Plainview promptly does away with him.

As a child, H.W. never intentionally betrayed Plainview, his adopted father -- he was the baron's lone confidant. Yet once the boy sustained the injury that caused his deafness, the burden of caring for him took its toll on Plainview. The business man could feel himself getting weaker, and he felt as if H.W. was holding him back from his true passion, so he shipped his son away for the time being. Years later as the film approaches its end, H.W. tells his father face to face that he does not wish to work under him anymore -- he's going to forge his own way. By now, the immensely-powerful Daniel Plainview sees the pulling of H.W.'s support as equal an offense as a direct betrayal; if you're not for him, you're against him. Once again, Plainview's foe was promptly done away with.

As both 2001 and There Will Be Blood conclude, Bowman and Plainview sit as old men on the brink of something new. Bowman encounters the monolith and is transformed into a new being: the Starchild. The new creature looks at the camera as the film ends, with the Infinite Beyond now presenting so many possibilities.

But Plainview, instead of finding the monolith, finds his greed. His transformation comes when he is engrossed by his love for oil and power, and he bludgeons Eli with a bowling pin -- much like the "Moon-Watcher" does with a bone.

"I'm finished," he says, and this completes Plainview's transformation. But our new creature in There Will Be Blood doesn't resemble the Starchild. It's almost as if Plainview began the evolutionary process, but failed to take the appropriate steps that would lead him to a higher level. So now, instead of being reborn as the Starchild, he's reborn as an ape.

Cruel Production Design

pacheco@bohemiancinema.com (pacheco) — Sun, 25 May 2008 23:55:25 CDT

NOTE: This post is a contribution to the Production Design Blog-a-thon at Too Many Projects Film Club.

Back in high school, I used to frequently look at a site that listed its own "Academy Awards." It had typical categories as well as some more unique ones. What appealed to me was that it praised the type of films I was interested in: Magnolia, Traffic, Dancer in the Dark, Being John Malkovich.... I remember reading through some of the earlier lists and seeing, under "Costume Design," Cruel Intentions.

"Yes," I said. Someone else was seeing what I was seeing. Cruel Intentions was a guilty pleasure throughout high school, and I was secretly in love with the expensive suits, clothes, and homes of the spoiled brats on screen. Sure, they were all pretentious and sex-crazed, but it all looked so darn pretty!

Revisiting the film now, its lost a little bit of its luster, but I still find the production design to be vastly underrated. It's difficult for people to recognize the production and costume design of a non-period piece, but I believe there's merit in the work that we may find "typical" or "un-special."

Let's Not Impugn A Technology Here

pacheco@bohemiancinema.com (pacheco) — Thu, 22 May 2008 09:36:13 CDT

ELAINE

So, because of a few bad apples you're gonna impugn an entire continent?

JERRY

Yes, I'm impugning a continent.

Seinfeld
Season 5: Episode 4:
"The Sniffing Accountant"

Everyone knows that the most vocal people are the dissatisfied. It's not always good to gage any sort of success by these types of reactions because it's just accepted that the satisfied don't speak out nearly as much as the disgruntled.

After this past weekend, if I were to believe the more vocal reactions to the pre-screenings of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, I'd think it was the biggest flop of the year. Yet, looking at the good ol' Tomatometer, it seems that Indy's getting an 80% approval rating. Hardly the debacle that many in the blogosphere are claiming it is.

So as it opens today, what does someone make of some of this backlash?

Well, let's get some things out of the way. First, why was anyone delusional enough to believe that another sequel to a beloved trilogy, made nearly 20 years after the third film, would actually live up to the predecessors? Did we learn nothing from the expectations of the Star Wars Prequilogy?

Steven Spielberg has changed. George Lucas has changed. Harrison Ford has changed. Technology has changed. Cinema has changed! Did anyone honestly believe that the 4th film could actually live up to the hype? Not to mention the dozens of scripts and rewrites that were thrown out the window, keeping this film in "Development Hell" for so long. Considering the history and circumstances, I think it's remarkable that Kingdom of the Crystal Skull seems to be as decent as it is.

Out of those who were disappointed by Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, one complaint seems to be universal: CG. They don't like it, they think there's too much, and they think it has no place in an Indiana Jones film.

Going back to that opening Seinfeld quote, I find it funny how, based on a few perceived "bad apples," or after seeing a film from a cherished franchise "ruined," there are people that seem to be ready to write-off CG almost entirely! "Yes, I'm impugning a technology." They treat it as an epidemic, and then you read phrases such as "the impact is lost in these days of visual effects" or "digital effects have made filmmakers lazy." While there's validity to these statements, is it fair to put the blame on the technology instead of the user?

Hate the Sinner, Love the Sin

Something that's always bothered me is the phrase, "Money is the root of all evil." It's a misquote, and a gross one at that. The true phrase is, "The love of money is the root of all evil" -- two completely different concepts. One says that money itself is what's wrong, the other says that there's nothing wrong with money; people's love for it is what can corrupt.

Despite what purists may say, CG is not evil. It's not the root of all evil, it doesn't corrupt, and a part of me wants to go as far as to say that too much CG is not a bad thing. Sticking with the money comparison: there are a lot of church-going people who believe that, because "money corrupts," a truly spiritual person cannot be insanely wealthy. Another misconception. There are many examples in the Good Book of ridiculously wealthy men who were Men of God, who kept level heads, and who didn't lose sight of what really mattered. This is not meant to be a sermonette, but you can see where I'm going with this.

Computer-generated images didn't corrupt the Lord of the Rings trilogy, did it? And those films were definitely "wealthy" with it, the character of Gollum being a prime example. When we saw the joint performance of Andy Serkis and the geniuses at WETA, we sat in amazement. But when George Lucas puts out Jar Jar Binks, people point to it as "the problem with CG." It's the same general technology, and just as excessive.

You call this "in moderation?"

The difference was that with Gollum, and all the other green-screened inhabitants of Middle Earth, Peter Jackson never lost sight of what was important. Just like those wealthy men of the Bible -- like Abraham or Job -- a lot of CG didn't corrupt the Lord of the Rings trilogy because more important things were not neglected.

Moderation, Shmoderation

People will try to tell you, "CG is good in moderation. But without that moderation, CG just ruins things. Look at the Star Wars prequels!" But that's focusing on the wrong thing. It's not necessarily that CG must be used only for certain types of films and only used so much. Where were these people when Peter Jackson and his fantasy trilogy were the toast of the town? Is the Battle of Helms Deep "CG in moderation"? Did many people tell Jackson to take it down a notch when he chose to make a major supporting character entirely computer-generated? No, they wanted to nominate Gollum for an Oscar! Moderation is not the key here.

One of the greatest uses of computer-generated effects that I've seen in a long time is in Zodiac, and the best part is that most people can't even tell that the effects are there. Fincher chose to use the aid of computers for some obvious shots, such as the long aerial shot that follows a taxi cab, or the time lapsed construction of the Transamerica Pyramid, but many people don't realize that Zodiac is littered with blue-screened visual effects.

A simple street scene in a domestic neighborhood may actually be shot in a sound studio with the neighborhood digitally added. A lot of the stab wounds, gunshot wounds, or blood spatters are added in post on a computer. Physical locations and blood squibs could have been used, but Fincher wanted such a specific look that he infused his film with digital effects, and the result is something that's more affective.

And yet, I'm positive that if you were to tell someone that you wanted to use CG to create a seemingly normal suburban neighborhood, or to add all of the blood in your death scenes, you'd be told not to. It's not "in moderation," and the technology should only be used for big budget sci-fi or fantasy epics. But that's just not the case.

I Need Something More Real

How is this "more real" than CG? I've heard Lucas say that he finds it funny when people claim that they don't like CG because it is "less real." He says, less real than what? Than a rubber mask? Than a 3 foot model of a city? How are any of those more "real" than CG? I think he has a point. The CG environment in Zodiac sure seemed pretty real to me.

And lot of it comes down to interaction; with some uses of CG, audiences do not feel that the digital object is truly "part" of the physical scene (or vice versa). Part of it is that actors aren't sure how to act with a ping-pong ball that tells him where to look. At this point in the development of the technology, we shouldn't be pointing the finger at CG, should we? There are countless examples of CG objects seamlessly integrated into scenes, with great performances from actors. If things don't feel like they're "interacting," the problem is most likely with the director, the writer, or the actor.

Note: I realize there's just plain "bad CG," the low-budget renderings that even a 4 year old could pick out as phony. But the same could be said for practical sets and effects. Right now I'm talking about "good CG."

The Crutch of the Situation

It's not the technology, people; eventually, it's what's being done with it. And that's what people are complaining about, isn't it? "They're using it too much" or "it's being used unnecessarily." But when people say this, most of them are getting ahead of themselves. You need to ask the question, "Why?" Why is it "too much?" Why is it "unnecessary?"

You've heard that Indy 4 relies too heavily on CG; there's just too much. Therefore Kingdom of the Crystal Skull would have been vastly better had it used more practical sets or special effects. Right?

But how short-sighted is that? Again, you must ask, "Why?" Why does it feel like Spielberg and Lucas are using too much CG? Why is it relying so heavily on it? If the film is as bad as some say, could it be that it's relying on CG for a reason? "Relying" indicates a sort of crutch, meaning that something elsewhere is wounded or insufficient. If Indy "relies" on CG, that shouldn't be a knock on the CG should it? Sure, you can say that the filmmakers noticed their flaws and merely overcompensated with more effects. But if Indy fixed its real flaws -- the ones that cause it to rely on CG in the first place -- couldn't it hypothetically retain all of that CG? However, then, since it no longer requires "reliance" on CG, the same effects that were once "too much" are all of a sudden "spectacular!" If you think about it, that notion is what makes the difference between Transformers and Return of the King!

"How about a CG eye in the middle of his forehead?"

Have you ever seen a friend with a broken hand? Oftentimes to compensate for their disabled hand, they use their mouth as help. You've seen them: tearing open a bag of chips with their good hand and their mouth, or clamping their teeth on a piece of string as they try to tie a knot.... For your friend to be healthy again, what would you say needs to happen? Could you say, "Stop using your mouth as a 'crutch'"? Yes and No. Not using their mouth as a crutch means that they have to learn to heal and rely on that broken hand once again. But the mouth wasn't the problem, the broken hand was! When you say that a film needs to stop using CG as a crutch, you are speaking the truth, but you're just aiming it in the wrong direction. It goes much deeper than that.

Practically Nothing

Cabiria: great sets, bad movie. There's a notion floating around that keeping Indiana Jones "grounded" in practical effects would make the film better, or more "pure." It's the "only way" to do an Indiana Jones-type movie. I can see the preference if you wanted to have a consistent "look" between all 4 of the Indy films, but we're living in different times. In the 80's, practical effects with a little bit of green-screening was what was available and widely used.

But in 2008, there's much more at the filmmaker's disposal. Spielberg has used CG to great effect (no pun) in A.I., Minority Report, and War of the Worlds; I'm comfortable with him using those kinds of effects more often because he's proven himself. Does that mean he should only use CG from now on? Of course not. He should use whatever technology he feels would work the best. But let's not kid ourselves into thinking that miniatures and practical effects are a cure, or a can't-miss. That's simply not true.

Giovanni Pastrone's 1914 silent film Cabiria is both important and influential. The director brought more camera movement to cinema, as well as massive sets that raised the scope of the story to "epic" status. For its time, and even today, these sets are absolutely grand and impressive. And yet the movie still stinks.

The story is painfully boring, confusing, and uninteresting. Eventually it just felt like Pastrone was trying to show off his magnificent set pieces. It became a crutch. But do we blame the practical effects and sets? No, we blame the story, the acting, the directing -- the real culprits. Replace those practical effects in Cabiria with CG and it's the same exact result.

In the same way, making Kingdom of the Crystal Skull with practical effects doesn't necessarily change anything; the risk of using the technology as a crutch for the film's deeper problems is just as high, in my opinion.

I encourage people to enjoy the fourth Indiana Jones film for what it is. But if you find yourself dissatisfied, just try to aim your criticism in the right direction.

Trailer Park: Prince Gladiator of the X-Rings

pacheco@bohemiancinema.com (pacheco) — Fri, 16 May 2008 23:18:21 CDT

You may find Narnia a more savage place than you remember....

Sitting in the theater before Iron Man, I noticed that the trailers, aimed towards the "superhero crowd," were particularly good this evening. Indiana Jones, the latest Dark Knight trailer -- I'd seen them all before, but it was good spectacle on the big screen. But the one that left the biggest impression on me was the trailer for The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian. The sequel to the successful (yet, in my opinion, so-so) first act of the series looks like it wants to convince people that it will be a hardcore affair. Shots of duels, destruction, and plenty of CG are put together in the latest trailer in such a fashion that seems to intentionally conjure up images of familiar action films:

A nighttime ambush in Narnia resembles an attack on Minas Tirith in Return of the King.

Two instances of men riding winged beasts (the latter from The Fellowship of the Ring).

The four little ones standing in ruins parallels these four hobbits in The Fellowship of the Ring.

Catapults galore in both Prince Caspian and Return of the King.

Plowing through enemies, just like in Two Towers.

The trees are getting hurt in this shot from Narnia, but in Two Towers, they do the hurting.

The masked man in Prince Caspian brought back memories of Maximus in Gladiator.

Water moves a bridge in the trailer, reminding me of Magneto's feat in X-Men: The Last Stand.

A face in the water? I know what you're thinking: the water horses from Fellowship of the Ring!

A wall of ice in Narnia can be just as effective as a one in a school for mutants in X2: X-Men United.

Prince Caspian opened this weekend. It has one of the better trailers I've seen in a while; I only hope the film can deliver more than the first one.

The trailer can be seen at MySpace's "Trailer Park" page (named after the running series on this site, I'm quite sure).

Carnival of Cinema: Feels Like the First Time

pacheco@bohemiancinema.com (pacheco) — Fri, 09 May 2008 20:59:33 CDT

Welcome one and all to this humble abode. As your substitute carnival host for this week, for those who don't know me, you can call me Jonathan, pacheco, or something else really pretentious. Or perhaps we can skip with the pleasantries altogether and get right down to the carnival because, believe me, there are plenty of links to get to this week.

Starting things off, Missy at Observations from Missy's Window beats me to the punch on a post I've been thinking about writing for a while. It deals with Movie Companions.

Many people like background noise, something to keep them company while they perform chores or menial tasks. Music and television are the most common methods of background noise, but movies can also fill the role of companion.

Let's keep things going with a little bit of over-achieving. Jean Brunet of SizzlingPopcorn.com provides a bevy of links:

Whew! Here's Jean in reference to Dan in Real Life:

Carell goes a little too overboard when trying to create humor, which results in a very dry and boring film.

Linda presents The Korean project : Duelist posted at Mes crazy exp�riences.

As most of the Korean movies I have seen, the music is absolutely wonderful.

Scott Nehring, the usual purveyor of this here Blog Carnival, chimes in with some thoughts on No Country For Old Men (2007), over at Good News Film Reviews. Needless to say, he dug the film:

It is a rare thing to be presented with characters so intensely interesting that there's a sense of loss when long scenes of dialog end.

Gautam Valluri takes a good look at the Iranian film A Few Kilos of Dates for a Funeral, over at Broken Projector.

It is one of the rare instances in film where I can assure you every single frame of the print is a beautiful photograph on its own.

At Tall Bodybuilding Actor, Conan Stevens presents the Som Tam Movie Trailer, a trailer for a film he made. Kudos to Conan on his accomplishment:

Finally 1 decent movie I have done makes it to the big screen in Thailand.

Shlomi Ron takes a look solely at the soundtrack of Light of My Eyes - Luce dei miei occhi (Giuseppe Piccioni - 2001), and you can find that at cafe Pellicola - window to fine italian cinema.

The haunting score uses minimalist piano pieces layered over occasional mounting violin crescendos - opens up a rich world of expression and depth. No wonder it won best sound track at the 2002 Italian music awards.

And Gracchi's in-depth look at The Manchurian Candidate (1962) can be found over at Westminster Wisdom.

Of course trust opens the way for the Manchurian candidate. But that trust is tempered by understanding, by an effort to sympathetically reach inside someone's brain and understand the logic of what they do and why they do it.

Wait, what's this? Can it be our favorite rotund postal employee? Not quite, but this particular Newman has got some favorable words for 2008's Iron Man posted at Newman's Own Movie Corner.

It doesn't rely on in-jokes that would only be understood by fans, nor is it too broad in a vain attempt to appeal to everyone. Instead, it tells a solid story with a surprising injection of real-world drama and finely-tuned comedy.

Sounding like a man after my own heart, Joe of Intermission at Work explains the Top 5 Reasons I don't want you at My Theatre! In reference to underaged kids whose parents buy them tickets to R-rated films:

Not every theatre is like mine, but we check ids, and don't let these kids into those rated R movies, just like we're supposed to. Then these kids usually try to sneak in, and when we catch them, they call their parents. Then comes the fun.

Kevin Fleming decides to go the handy route and shows us How To Convert Videos For Your iPhone over at Satellite TV Guru. Next week, Kevin will show me how to afford an iPhone to begin with.

In order to enjoy watching movies and videos on your iPhone, they need to be converted to the proper format. Unfortunately, this small hurdle left a lot of iPhone owners stumped.

Linda catches the romantic comedy My Little Bride, and you can read her take at Mes crazy exp�riences.

It's the story of two people trying to show that they are not related in front of the judging eyes of the world as they really deeply like each other.

There are some concerns over some regulations regarding the use of minors for scenes of "simulated sex" in films, and Lisa Vandever of CineKinkster is there to make us aware of it with Um. Pornography is in focus?.

For all, it is critical to know both the rules and the risks - and to work together in protesting their chilling presence.

Todd Howard presents Indiana Jones Fan Tribute Song, We're Makin' This Up As We Go, along with an explanation of how the song was created. It can be found at Zoom In Online. No, I'm not makin' this up.

On the heels of watching "Raiders of the Lost Ark" and Julie Taymor's Beatle-centric masterwork "Across The Universe" on DVD for inspiration, Glen and I put nose to grindstone on March 29, 2008 in my Mac-based home recording studio in the Berkshires of northwestern Massachusetts, for an exhaustive 18-hour, non-stop session, where we wrote and recorded the entire song in one epic sitting.

Christina M. Rau gives us a little bit about her film-going experience and a lot of bit about Prom Night in Yeah, Man, That Prom Was Killer, posted at Livin' The Dream (One Loser At A Time).

However, since this is a PG-13 horror flick, not a lot of gore is involved. Instead of pools of fake blood, there's a red smear or maroon dot here and there. Ah, the glory of dying from a flesh wound.

And finally, over at Zee Says=Film Addict + Teen Librarian, Lindsey gives us a Movie Review: Thumbsucker.

What follows is similar to what happens to Solomon in the book of Ecclesiastes in Justin's life. He tries multiple things to make his life more meaningful: achievement, love, sex, drugs, and therapy. In the end, it's all meaningless. None of the things he tries ends up being the magic button that sticks.

That wraps things up for this week. Once again, thanks to Scott for letting me host this thing.

Until next time, friends.

The Free Screening Crowd

pacheco@bohemiancinema.com (pacheco) — Mon, 28 Apr 2008 05:51:53 CDT

I like free movies; who doesn't? But until the glorious day when I obtain a press pass and the gates to the free press screenings are whooshed open for my sake, I have to figure out different ways to get my free flick fix in the meantime.

I frequent certain message boards as well as websites of local magazines and radio stations in an attempt to win as many free giveaways as I can. For the past few years I've received a fair number of passes to free pre-release screenings. Because of commitments and driving distances, I don't attend the majority of them, but lately, I've been on a hot streak, getting passes to films I'm relatively interested in, playing at venues that won't kill my car with the commute. The last four weeks, I've attended screenings of Leatherheads, Smart People, and Forgetting Sarah Marshall, while opting not to use passes to 88 Minutes or Baby Mama.

Because most passes for screenings in the DFW area can be found in the same few places, the group that ends up watching most of these films tend to consist of some of the same faces. Always good to know that there are other people besides me who have no lives.

So now that I'm starting to become a free screener expert, some observations:

Grumpy Old People

I've noticed that there are an unusual amount of people over 50 years old (some much older) at these screenings. It's just something that strikes me every time, and to add to it, they're usually attending films that you really wouldn't expect to see people their ages at (Forgetting Sarah Marshall is my latest example). And for some reason, a lot of them tend to be very grouchy and argumentative. Seems like almost every screening I go to there's and older gentleman getting into some sort of argument with a stranger. Calm down, friends, we're all here to have a good time!

There's also a sense of entitlement with a lot of the screener crowd. This is tied into the "argumentative" part a little bit, but you'd be surprised how many "rights" they feel they have. If things aren't just right at the right time, the whining and moaning starts. Essentially, I think it breaks down to being cheap; people will go very long distances, figuratively and literally, for something that's free. Which brings me to....
You Gotta Spend Money to Not Spend Money

The funny part about these free screeners is the amount of money that attendees will spend in order to go to one. Take me for example: I'll drive 40 minutes to the mall where the screening is happening. Because we have to get there early to secure a place in line, I pretty much have to leave right after I pick up my girlfriend from work. As a result, dinner ends up being eaten at the mall -- always expensive. Or if the screening's at the Studio Movie Grill -- well, we have to order food there! Otherwise we wouldn't be taking advantage of the experience!

People end up spending more on these outings than they would have if the film was playing at a more local venue. Sure, I save money on the ticket, but I pay for gas and for more mall and theater food than I would have spent on a normal trip, which basically brings the price back up to, if not over the original amount. All for what? So that I can see a movie a day earlier.
Not Too Bright

I hate to sound judgmental, but the people who attend these screenings with us...most of them don't seem to be the academic type. Some act stupid. Some say stupid things. And some don't "get" movies that don't really have anything to "get." As the credits rolled on Smart People (a movie that, as some have said, is too smart for dumb people and not smart enough for smart people), we heard many comments, including, "That was the most pretentious movie I've ever seen" -- which it was not -- "but I liked it!" Another woman said, "That movie was just too cerebral for me!" Good use of the word "cerebral," but if Smart People is "too cerebral" for you...well, see that parenthetical above.

I suppose this is all to be expected from non-paying customers, right? But, it's obviously not enough to make me stop attending.

Yet.

Sidenote: This part isn't exclusive to the free screening crowd, but it did happen to me while at one. I sat in line and a cluster of older adults stood next to me, discussing anything and everything, eventually touching upon the topic of 88 Minutes, a film that a few of them had see the previous evening; one of them hadn't. The others tell her that it's so good, that she must see it, and they then proceed to discuss the plot, the twists, and everything else about the film right there in front of her -- and in front of me.

Why suggest that someone should see a film and then spoil the film for them right in their face? And perhaps I'm in self-righteous mode, but would it kill them to not discuss (in very loud voices) revealing plot details of films that haven't even been released? At this point in time, I hadn't heard that 88 Minutes was a horrid film, so I was kind of interested in it. My solution was to sit there, in line, jabbing my fingers in my ears and humming for several minutes straight. Am I the only one annoyed by this?

AFI Dallas 2008: Three Films

pacheco@bohemiancinema.com (pacheco) — Sun, 20 Apr 2008 13:43:38 CDT

Despite my qualms with the AFI Dallas International Film Festival, there are definitely some very worthy films that play there, and of course plenty of unworthy ones -- just as in every fest. This post is pretty late and may seem irrelevant, but I feel that these 3 films that I viewed are still worthy of note. Clicking on the pictures will take you to pages with more information.

Goliath

Goliath is the story behind some of those dead cats that you avoid on your commute home, or the strays that you try very hard to avoid, not wanting to risk any sort of attachment. Who do these cats belong to? Does their owner live anywhere around here? How did the cat get lost in the first place? Did the owner, like our protagonist, walk down streets and highways running an electronic can opener (complete with a portable power generator), hoping that their furry friend would hear it and come running back?

Is someone crying over this animal?

The main character of Goliath is pretty much a schlub, a pushover, and just plain pathetic. When asked by his bosses to fire a coworker, he complies...but he does it in the men's room. With his tie length uneven, he stands with another man in a bathroom stall and tells him that he no longer works for the company. The coworker seems okay, even asking if he'd be allowed to finish using the toilet before he has to leave. Goliath is made up of tons of moments such as this one; sometimes they work but sometimes they try too hard; those are forced awkward moments that take away from the film's personality.

(Andrew Bujalski shows up in an inexplicable cameo as one of the bosses, and I got the feeling that I was the lone "mumblecore" fan in the house, seeing as how I was the only one who laughed when he showed up on screen.)

Goliath seems to do a lot of things in an attempt to be different or quirky, but this strategy goes too far at one point and results in the one scene of the film that I absolutely abhorred. In that particular scene, Goliath's owner signs divorce papers with his now-former wife. And that's all that happens. The camera stays on them throughout the entire scene, and the only thing worthy of note is that he took more time to sign the papers than she did; that's why I had to sit through that dry, pointless scene for who knows how many minutes? I'm sure I was supposed to come away from that scene pained, but I think it was intended to be in a good way.

Now, the film isn't just about a man whose cat ran away. The cat is pretty much the last straw. It was what he was clinging to when everything else fell apart. So when Goliath goes missing, the character does what always does: blames someone else. He blames his ex, he blames the former sex offender who just moved into the neighborhood -- anyone but himself. And I have to say, his reasons seem valid. At one point, he bawls uncontrollably, asking why this happened to him and to Goliath. Goliath was a good cat who loved him and never did anything wrong; none of this was deserved. And that's how he feels about himself. His job, his divorce, his life -- he doesn't deserve this. All he did was try to love his wife, love his cat, and be a good worker; he doesn't deserve any of this.

Sidenote: I mentioned that the protagonist issues some blame on a former sex offender. During the Q&A after the film, some guy near the front asked if the film was implying, or if the filmmaker was pushing a message regarding violence against sex offenders. Or something like that. I think I heard the phrase "prompt attacks." I'm guessing everyone else in the theater had the same "What in the..." thoughts that I did at that moment. Perhaps this guy trying too hard to be "deep." I know that people say "There are no stupid questions," but sometimes there are.

Summerhood

Summerhood, a film with some surprisingly snazzy opening titles, is not-surprisingly about a summer camp. Two love stories are paralleled; one involving a camp counselor, another involving a young camper (nicknamed "Fetus") and his first crush. Throughout the summer, plans to sneak out, cause trouble, and escape to the older kids' camp are all thwarted by your typical camp stickler, the Assistant Director (or, the "Ass. Director," as his clipboard says).

There's actually a nice scene where, when belligerently asked why a person like him -- who hates kids -- would ever run a kids camp, the Assistant Director goes off explaining that he's not there for the kids; he's there for the parents. The moment that Fetus, his friend Reckless, or any of their trouble-making friends pulls a bad stunt and accidentally drowns -- that's it, camp's closed. For just one scene, it was a side of the "camp director character" that we don't usually see: a reasonable side.

If you hated the title character of Juno then watch out: the kids in this movie are obviously too clever for their own ages. That becomes clear when, in reference to his buddies, the 9 year-old Fetus says things like, "If they had any sense at all, they'd be miserable, like I was." Or how about when Reckless tells Fetus to stop letting girls make him miserable; that's what their adult lives are for. In the moment, these lines are funny and cute because they're coming from the mouths of children. But upon reflection, it seems like it happens a little too much. And to top it off, the child actors, bless their hearts, can't quite carry the workload. Sure, they do an admirable job, but every once in a while the script's overly clever dialogue is delivered with a blank indifference.

There's a very odd, almost disturbing moment that takes place in the middle of the film. We see one of the kids yelling his lungs out, cursing and screaming, insulting another child ("Casper," a kid who wears only white clothes). The angry kid is going absolutely ballistic, and we just see Casper moving his belongings from one cabin bunk to another, all while insults are hurled at him at an alarming pace. The narrator (adult Fetus) explains to us that the yelling child is upset because his best friend Willie was not able to come to camp that year (I believe Willie's dad passed away or something to that effect). They had "saved" Willie's bunk that summer by keeping it empty in his honor. Casper tried to occupy the bed, and that's what initiated the tirade.

And as the narrator explains this, the camera turns and we get a haunting shot of the empty bunk; he then says that he doesn't know whether Willie ever knew that a bed was saved for him, but that if he's out there somewhere, he should know that he was sorely missed that summer. It's such a strange moment when the film stops and takes the opportunity to deliver a very personal message in hopes that Willie will receive it -- somehow. In a surreal way, I felt as if the camera was almost turning around to face the director so that he could have that moment.

Prior to the screening, the director told us to "turn off our ethics buttons," and while I wouldn't go that far, there are times when Summerhood does deliver on its promise of irreverence. There's a fantasized lesbian makeout scene (fantasized by a 9 year old? With no prior references to or indications of such thoughts?), and the film ends with a raunchy song containing lyrics I'd rather not repeat on this tame website. But other than that, the "irreverence" consisted of a bunch of pre-adolescents cursing; you can turn to Comedy Central to see that (or better yet, your local elementary school).

But Summerhood made me laugh, and that's what it set out to do.

Ciao

Ciao starts out with a series of emails between two characters that help set up the current situation: Andrea is writing Mark, excited about the coming days; he's coming to visit Dallas, all the way from Italy. Jeff, Mark's old friend, replies to Andrea's email, informing him that Mark has been killed in a car accident. After sympathies are shared, Jeff tells Andrea that the invitation to visit is still open, if he chooses to do so. He does.

Emails have been done several ways in movies, from showing actual computer screens (a la You've Got Mail) to static title cards (a la LOL, which made the emails look almost like they were typed on very bright stationary). I really like Ciao's method: a black title card with "typing" animation. Describing it makes it sound cheesy, but it's just a blank canvas with an unassuming font, noises of a keyboard typing, and the words displaying across the screen. It's very tasteful, effective, and I was rather impressed by that particular solution.

The film overall has a very clean, crisp, "Dallas" look, and I liked that; it's nice to see a low budget film take its look and style seriously enough to show it on screen. However, I'm afraid that at some points it was a little too perfect. Certain scenes, especially sit-down conversations, were lit almost like a 60 Minutes interview, and it stopped me from thinking, "Wow, what a good looking film" and got me thinking, "Wow, there's your film school lighting."

While we're on the topic, the dialogue in Ciao was not written very naturally. Conversations got to be a bit stiff, and then the rare "y'know" would be thrown in to make it feel more "real." It wasn't bad conversation but it just wasn't delivered well or written appropriately. I guess you could say that director and writer Yen Tan's dialogue was meant to be read, not acted. It's almost like the dialogue from a novel: clean, the occasional throwaway word so you know that these are still "real" people, and it always has a purpose or direction. Unfortunately, this is a film, andso the dialogue wasn't suited for acting, and either the actors aren't experienced enough to loosen the dialogue, or Tan's directing didn't allow for it.

The acting suffers a lot because of this, but not solely because of it. At times it felt like the actors were more concerned with being in the right place, at the right time, facing the right direction so the light will hit them the right way. Characters in the world of Ciao always look each other in the eye, never breaking that eye contact. It was too controlled. But when the plot doesn't call for the characters to sit down and talk, the acting loosens up and it starts to feel more natural.

There was a strategy either implemented by the DP or by the director himself that basically constrains the dialogue scenes to only closeups (it was even briefly touched upon during the Q&A). Once the camera gets into the closer angles, it's just tight face shots the rest of the way -- the reason being to keep things more intimate. In theory, it sounds like a solid, interesting idea. In execution, it really just felt claustrophobic. Each conversation I kept wishing they would just cut away and let me breath for a moment.

And this is all a shame because overall, Ciao's heart is in the right place. It's got a bit of a cool exterior, but the story's undertones are very personal and very true. Before the film, Tan stated that he hoped the film would be as emotionally satisfying as it was for him; for me, it was. It's emotionally true throughout its entirety; it's just some of the method that's a little bit off. Despite this, I feel good recommending this film fairly highly.

AFI Dallas 2008: Keeping Dallas Pretentious?

pacheco@bohemiancinema.com (pacheco) — Mon, 07 Apr 2008 14:26:28 CDT

Have you heard of those T-Shirts that say "Keep Dallas Pretentious"? It's supposed to be a play on the Austin motto ("Keep Austin Weird"). People around Dallas or who know a little bit about it kind of get a little chuckle; sure, we all know Dallas can be pretentious, that's just how we are down here. The trendy, beautiful people won't think it's uncool to go hog-wild during the Mavericks games, they're all pumped full of plastic, and they've always got their dainty drink in one hand and a tiny sense of entitlement in the other. I believe the first time I heard the phrase "Keep Dallas Pretentious" was in reference to last year's first annual AFI Dallas International Film Festival.

I only attended one screening during last year's inaugural fest, and that was of David Lynch's Inland Empire (with the director himself at the showing. Oh yeah, last year's AFI Dallas? That's where this Lynch Classic came from). After a week and a half of screenings, events, and parties, AFI Dallas 2008 ended yesterday; I was only able to attend one day, but at the risk of being assumptive, I think I've got some thoughts -- positive and negative.

The Price to Pay

I hadn't planned on on attending AFI Dallas this year because, first, the festival just didn't seem to interest me that much, and second, because I didn't have the kind of dough necessary to really make a week of it. Looking at the pricing of the passes for the festival, they seem to be getting pretty ambitious.

I know, I haven't been to a terrible amount of film festivals, but a $500 pass feels a little steep to me when you consider that it's a festival in its infant stages, and has very little street cred from what I can tell. I guess the goal of Target and the other sponsors is to say to Dallas, "Look, we're expensive and slick; that means you have to show up!" And sure, people are showing up; the crowd that wants to feel "indie" and "artsy" (me), the beautiful, trendy, wealthy people of Dallas, and of course, the old wealthy people. They're all hoping that AFI Dallas will become an "event," something that could take over the town and bring some big names to Big D.

I don't see it happening. Not anytime soon at least.

Why? Well, to begin with, Dallas is too big. It's not a huge city, and it's not a very eventful or busy one either, yet even still, Dallas has more going on, and other than the occasional radio sponsorship, I didn't see a huge promotional push for the festival. Some fests, you see posters all over the town, at the venues, the bars, the hot spots -- everywhere you look, there are filmmakers pushing their films. Dallas is more concerned with looking clean, modern, and slick, so you see none of this. It ends up taking some of the personality away from the event, and as a result, AFI feels like an "Oh yeah, that's going on" kind of thing. Again, I'm sure this is due to the fact that the festival is very young, but I'm not sure if things like the aggressive pricing is going to work in establishing this as a "premiere" festival without promoting why we should be attending in the first place.

At the end of the day, I think it's going to be a really long time before people start getting excited about traveling across the country to attend AFI Dallas the way they do for Toronto, Sundance, SXSW, and NYFF.

Things to Do, Places to Be

Maybe it's because I go to these theaters on a fairly regular basis, but many of AFI Dallas's venues don't feel like they could or should be housing a film festival. I mean, I won't count it too harshly against them, because I've noticed that in other festivals as well; you have what you have, and you make it work. The fest is spread out between venues and theaters from the Magnolia and the Inwood to Victory Park Plaza and the Meyerson. Some of these venues are fantastic and some are not so much. I will say that the Magnolia feels too small and too cramped to house a big event, but the Angelika is a perfect venue; it's by plenty of shops, it's spacious and airy, and has some room outside for interviews and a little bit of the glitz.

However, the AMC Northpark 15 may be one of the poorest choices to screen films and have "red carpet" events. Why? Because it's a theater in a mall. Yes, it's a trendy, wealthy mall, but I had to walk through Macy's to go see my movie; what is that about? Yes, the theater is very nice and roomy and well-kept. But when I'm trying to experience a festival, do I want to be trekking across a mall to get to the screening, avoiding a barrage of high schoolers? I hate malls, and I think using a mall theater for a film festival is pretty tacky.

I will say that there are some events at AFI Dallas that I haven't experienced, but sound just way too cool. Screenings at Victory Park (the plaza outside the American Airlines Center, home of the Dallas Mavericks and Dallas Stars) sound like they would be a lot of fun: outdoor showings of classic films on very big HD screens. There are also special event screenings at the Meyerson featuring a live performace of the film's score by the Dallas Symphony Orchestra. Last year I attended a performance/screening of Battleship Potemkin; This year they're performing for The Wizard of Oz. If AFI can really develop and push unique events such as these, I do think the festival can start to make a name for itself, at least around this area.

Hopefully the festival will also develop its panels. Right now, they are more of an afterthought. I wouldn't have known that they actually had information panels if it wasn't for an extremely brief advertisement during the pre-movie rotation. I personally go to festivals for the films, and would choose a film over a panel 9 times out of 10, but I also realize that there can be some very valuable information in those panels, and if the right guests are booked, they can draw some significant crowds.

Pre-Movie Movies

One sign that the festival might be taking itself and its ambitions a little too seriously is the way that it handled its introduction videos. Before each film, we're treated to two clips: one from Target and another from AFI Dallas. Target's video involves the target logo floating through a waterfall...and then some sort of flower or plant blooms and grows...but it's made out of some sort of red glass...and then there are silhouetted dancers in the plants...and then the clip seemingly starts over, then ends. It's supposed to be artsy and "abstract" but after it's done, everyone in the theater sits in the "Okay...what was that?" silence. I've heard that Target's campaign for the arts is actually doing some pretty good things, and I can understand them wanting to push that angle; to show the artsy crowd that Target is down with that too. But it just ends up feeling like they tried too hard.

The AFI Dallas clip was much more successful, though not entirely. It's essentially a stylized CG sequence that showcases the festival's venues and sponsors. For those who know the area, it's cool to see computer models of the very theaters we are visiting. It's all very well done, and my only beef really is that the music and the way it's put together makes it feel like it's trying to be a little too epic. It's a film festival -- no world's fate is hanging in the balances, so let's tone it down a tad.

Personality Goes a Long Way

The other night I went to the Studio Movie Grill in Dallas for the first time. Like theaters such as the Alamo Drafthouse, it's a venue where you order food before and during the film and it's brought to your seat. It was a good experience (and plenty of good eating) but something about it confirmed a suspicion I had been having about the Dallas filmgoing scene. Let's say I compare Studio Movie Grill to the Alamo Drafthouse. Dallas's theater is a much nicer facility with fancier chairs, fancier tables, and fancier methods of food delivery.

And yet, I prefer the Alamo. Why? Because while the methods may be less technological, and it's not as slick of a place as SMG, it has more personality. And that's something I've noticed about AFI Dallas and sometimes the entire Dallas movie scene: sometimes they're so concerned with being clean and slick that as a result, they start to lack any sort of personality. Keeping with the Austin comparison: walk the streets and venues of Austin during SXSW and you'll see layers of posters on top of each other advertising the upcoming screenings. Dallas during AFI? As I mentioned, I didn't see a single poster or ad taped onto a window, shop, or even in the theater lobbies. It makes the festival lack a certain buzz and excitement that comes from seeing people being passionate about getting their films exposed.

I look forward to the day that AFI Dallas becomes less concerned with being trendy, clean, and important, and decides to let its hair down for once.

Look for a couple of mini-reviews on the few films I caught at AFI Dallas 2008. They'll be popping up soon.

"Halloween" - Dir. Rob Zombie

pacheco@bohemiancinema.com (pacheco) — Mon, 03 Mar 2008 20:00:39 CST

Rob Zombie's "reinvention" feels more like the director had a few ideas about the Myers back-story that he wanted to take a stab at (get it?), and then had no new ideas for the rest of the film. This results in the second half of Halloween being the Cliffs Notes version of the 1978 original. I'm fine with sticking to some of the original material -- because it's good -- but the director's reluctance to take more chances ends up being only one of many flaws that holds back a film that actually had some potential.

Man Vs. Myth

I'm of the belief that, from a creative standpoint, there is almost nothing sacred in Michael Myers's story. Someone compared the Myers myth to Frankenstein's monster, Dracula, and other characters like that. Just like it's okay to have some radically different and conflicting stories of origin for these characters, it should be okay to do so with Michael Myers. He's that big, that universal, and that mythological, that he's pretty much gone "open source" on us with his story. That's why I'm okay with Zombie's changes, and part of me probably wishes he made some more.

I feel that instead of copying so much of the original, a few homages would have been better. For example, just as in Carpenter's version, Laurie at one point says, "Was that the Boogeyman?" I love that line, but after so many scenes of near-verbatim dialogue, this just felt like another line that Zombie was copying. Had he worked to make the rest of the film more original, I think that ominous line could have been so much more effective; it could have been a great way to join the two films, meaning that we could have two very different versions, but they meet at that line: Was that the Boogeyman?

A flaw that I see in the new Halloween is the same flaw I saw in Zombie's first film, House of 1000 Corpses: we don't care about the people we're supposed to care about. In only three pictures, it's obvious that Zombie always wants us to sympathize with "the monster." It didn't work in Corpses because they were shallow, cookie-cutter "psycho hicks." It worked in The Devil's Rejects because the characters became more appealing through humor, personality, and the presence of an even bigger "monster." And it doesn't work in his version of Halloween because Myers, this version's protagonist, comes across as either:

A really messed up kid with a case of "bad family life," or
A really silent, really tall guy who tends to kill people for no good reason.

No Sympathy For Lord Vengeance

Half of Halloween is dedicated to showing us just how messed up Michael's childhood really was. His sister treats him like dirt, and his mom's boyfriend treats him even worse. His mother actually cares and worries about him, but she's too busy winning the bread for the family by taking her clothes off. And of course, there's Michael's baby sister, perhaps the only one who "gets him" because, well, she can't talk. Zombie's choice to use the "bad family life" angle is fine with me, but I feel that it was a little mishandled.

If I'm supposed to sympathize with this "poor kid," then why is he killing an innocent animal the first time I see him? After that, I don't care if his family treats him like trash; this kid's messed up! I hate him already! And while the whole "white trash" setting seems to be Zombie's thing, it feels like it's been done before (we see it emphasized a lot in real life, too).

It just feels like a letdown to have the "mythical" Michael Myers's back-story be, "Well, he had a trashy, poor, abusive family...." It's just so...ordinary (wow, how messed up is our world when something like that feels ordinary?), and I personally think some else would have been better. Sticking with the mythological motif, was Zeus's story that ordinary? What about Hercules? Or Frankenstein's monster? I mean, I loved The Devil's Rejects, but if I found out that their back-story was simply a bad family existence, I'd label that as being lame and disappointing. Is it Zombie's point to de-myth the myth? To "humanize" the Shape? Well, he succeeding in not making it "mythological," but I don't know if he "humanized" him very much, either.

Now, when it comes to the point that Myers has grown up, his character has already hidden behind a proverbial wall: his mask (or his mangy hair, depending on his mood). If I don't already care about Myers by now, this brute isn't going to change much. He sits in his cell making creepy masks all day until he finally gets a chance to break free and start cracking some necks -- even those that belong to people who were "good to him" (as Danny Trejos's laughable delivery remind us). Do I really want to "feel for" someone like that? Not really. I know I keep harping on the sympathy factor, but it's because if I don't care about anyone in this movie, why in the world am I sitting through it?

So: is there anyone care-worthy in the film? Why, yes, plenty of people. Even through Sheri Moon Zombie's stiff acting, I felt for Michael's mother. Her son performed many evils, but she still visits him in the institution without fail. She talks to him, looks at the masks he's created, and tries to assure him that once he gets better, he'll finally be able to come home. A moment I really liked comes when the young Michael commits another murder and is struggling to break free from the institution's security. Dr. Loomis and his mother rush in and his mother, horrified, approaches Michael. In his rage and current state, he turns and attempts to attack his own mother.

What I liked most about this moment is that his mother's reaction shows that she was less horrified by her son's gruesome killing as she was by the fact that her son would actually try to attack her, the one person who has unconditionally loved and accepted him. It also shows and foreshadows that once Michael clicks into this state of mind, there are no prisoners; no one is safe, not even those who cared for him.

But again, this doesn't help me feel bad for Michael, it helps me feel bad for his mother.

Unlike other people I've talked to, I liked the Laurie of this film. I liked all of the younger girls. They were beautiful, fresh-face unknowns (to me, at least) who had more chemistry and acted much more naturally than the girls of Carpenter's original. The character of Laurie is pretty much the same as the original, though I think Jamie Lee Curtis felt a little tougher, while this new Laurie feels a little more like a regular, modern teen (who happens to be chaste). I do wish a little more originality was given to her character to differentiate her from her predecessor, but I was even willing to let that slide a bit. The real problem with her character, as with the character of Michael's mother, is that we don't see enough of her. I wanted more; when she showed up halfway through Zombie's film, I thought, "Geez, I wish she was here all along!" Plus, her reaction at the ending was awesome.

But that's my whole point with the "sympathy factor," even if it took forever to get to it. Zombie has care-worthy characters in Halloween, but he pushes them to the background, limiting our sympathy into short bursts. Michael's mother is a supporting character. Laurie is only in half of the film. The result felt emotionally choppy: "You can feel for this person, but only for a little bit. Okay, now this person, but only for a little bit." And the one constant throughout the film, the one guy that we get enough time to actually know -- well, I already told you how I feel about him.

Iconography

As with the 1978 film, I feel the Halloween theme is misused in this film. It's implemented a little too often to be an "homage," but it almost never feels at home, either. The placement is awkward and so blatant that it calls way too much attention to itself. You almost feel like you have to give Zombie a pat on the back and give him a treat. A lot of times, Zombie uses the theme as a crutch. There are moments when we see Myers as a blurred figure in the background of our scene, but instead of letting his eerie silence and presence do the scaring, Zombie cues the music. "Oh, I get it, now I'm supposed to be scared." I can only think of one time when the director actually let Myers show up without shoving the theme down my throat, and that's during a sideways shot of Annie and the child she babysits walking down the street at night. Myers stands behind them, nearly out of the frame, nearly forgotten. This was a good moment in the film.

I will say, though, that there is one part where the theme worked absolutely perfectly. There's a scene where Myers carries Laurie's body out of a house and down a moonlit street. The theme plays, and for the first time in the film, it felt right. The shot itself is particularly iconic without being derivative.

Another shot that I loved even more occurs when Myers returns to his old home in order to retrieve a knife and his mask (let's just ignore the gaping chasm in the logic of this plot development). He breaks into the floorboards and digs the objects out. He finds the mask, and holds it up in his hands, looking at it. It's almost as if he's holding a severed head. Perhaps it's meant to represent another entity -- to show that there are two separate people involved, and only one of them is a killer.

When is a Mask Not a Mask?

This isn't the first time that the idea is presented so concretely in the film. A moment I found interesting occurs when the young Michael is in the institution. His mother asks him why he did "those bad things" to her boyfriend and his sister. Michael simply and comfortably answers that he didn't do those things. That it wasn't him. If I'm looking at the film correctly, I think he might be telling the truth. Almost every time Michael kills, he's wearing a mask, and the exception would be during his massacre at the institution; at that point, one could argue that

his hair was his mask, and/or
his psychotic break (when he killed the nurse as a kid) was so severe that the innocent Michael ceased to exist.

I always hear that when traumatic things happen to people, they often build a wall -- a separation -- to deal with it. I'm assuming that Michael's masks represent this wall. You see, I would have liked to have explored this notion so much more than the "bad family life" idea. I know, his family's treatment of him is partially what caused the break, but it could have taken up less space and time. And yes, I also realize that the "psychotic break" idea may be as unoriginal as the "bad family life" one, but I really think Zombie stumbled upon something when he paralleled it with Michael's masks.

Or what about exploring Michael's killing nature coupled with his sexual frustration? We hear a lot in the news about serial killers who have that sort of problem, and if you look at Halloween, you can see it there, too. He kills his sister and her boyfriend right after they finish having sex (but not before he himself attempts to caress his sister questionably). His mother can't watch over him because she's a stripper. Years later, he kills two of his victims as they are involved in sexual acts as well. There's something to this, but instead of it being a more interesting twist on Zombie's take, it takes the backseat, becoming a "did you notice" concept as in the original Halloween.

For a movie that I hadn't planned on seeing, and for one that I'm really not that satisfied with, Zombies take on Halloween brought a lot of different thoughts to my head. If the film was a little more original and compelling, imagine how much longer this review would have been....