Reviews

This movie could have been awesome, but it misses the mark. It's a Superman Musical, based on a Broadway flop, and aired at 11:30 at night; you know it's not going to be Oscar material. But the fun comes in that the movie knows it's bad, and revels in it. It bears its cheese like a badge of honour, and as such actually comes close to being pretty good. It's cheesy, low-budget, and self-referential: three of my favourite things. Plus, it's narrated by Gary Owens, which makes it hard to go wrong.

But there's two problems: 1. It goes on way too long. There's only maybe 20 minutes of plot, tops, stretched into an hour and a half. This is due largely to 2. The songs. There's a whole lot of them, and they're not very well written. In fact, when you get down to it, some of them are really badly written. The rhyme schemes are haphazard and lackluster, the tunes are decent but nothing special, and in general, they all end up being pretty forgettable.

The songs also tend to repeat themselves a lot, stretching a single point into five or six verses... Then repeating several of those five or six verses over for emphasis. It gets boring very quickly. And since a large portion of the movie is devoted to the songs, the movie also gets old pretty quickly.

Still... For all of its flaws, it ends up being a fairly enjoyable movie. And as bad as it is... It's still not nearly as bad as The Adventures of Superpup.

James Cameron's Avatar is an endeavor of titanic proportions, no pun intended. It took upwards of 12 years and a budget larger than that of some third world nations to come to fruition. So... Was it worth it? Well, first of all, the script is lackluster. The plot is standard and predictable, the characters are cookie-cutter at best, overblown caricatures at worst. With a none-too-subtle message about the evils of technology encroaching on the natural balance.

This was the part of the movie that didn't sit well with me. I'm the first to admit that the human race is full of arrogant jerks, but I'd like to think we've progressed as a species to the point where we wouldn't be willing and in fact blatantly eager to drive an indigenous people to extinction for our own financial gain. Maybe I'm wrong...

But the message of this film seems to be, "People are stubborn, greedy, ignorant, and violent creatures." That constant message bothered me a lot, as did the characters who reinforced it. They're not just stupid humans. They're not just evil humans. Their adamantly uncaring and violent attitudes are physically abrasive. And there's few things I hate more than abrasive characters. I know enough irritating people in real life, without having to pay to see more.

And then we have characters like Colonel Quaritch, who's not only evil and abrasively irritating, but almost totally devoid of motivation. Like Richard III, he is determined to prove a villain, and continues to be ruthlessly, sadistically antagonistic without any real reason, or at least not a good one. Unlike Richard III, he's not at all fun to watch. He's not so much a character as a personification of the Evil, Technology-Wielding Humans that the film seeks to vilify.

On the other hand... The story may be lacking, the characters may be irritating, but the visual effects are stunning. The animators manage to create flora, fauna, and general topography for a completely alien world. The colors are vibrant, the details are exquisite. It's a unique and fascinating experience, incredible to look at.

But then again, so was the movie Hero. And that one had a terrific script too.

I have seen my share of superhero movies. In fact, I've seen more than my share. Having developed rather an insatiable interest in the genre lately, I've been watching quite a few of them. I've watched all the classic Batman and Superman movies. I sought out the current mainstream superhero titles, even the ones I'd never really given any thought to before, or had any kind of investment in their characters or story lines. And I even watched a number of direct-to-video animated films on Netflix, some of which were surprisingly good, and others of which should be used as punishment for inmates at Arkham.

So I've become pretty familiar with the genre. But Dark Knight was a whole other ballpark. Not for the story or the effects or the various elements of the comic books that they managed to work in or for any of the other million reasons why people might like or dislike a superhero movie. This movie is incredible, not just for what's in it, but moreso for the philosophy that's behind it.

One of the goals of this "re-imagining" of the Batman saga was to make it seem more realistic. In Batman Begins, they accomplished this mainly with the design of the gadgets and technology, such as making the Batmobile look like a cross between an armoured car and a monster truck. Dark Knight prefers to focus more on characters and philosophy in this respect, and in so doing, gives us a re-imagining of not just of Batman, but of the very battle of Good vs. Evil. It poses questions like: How do you fight a villain you can't even understand? How far do you go to stop him? And who are the real heroes and villains when times are at their most desperate? Is there even a difference? Some of the answers to these questions are provided in the movie. Others are not so straightforward. You could write a book about all the moral and philosophical issues presented in this movie. In fact, someone already has.

Of course, if you're not into the whole philosophical treatise thing, not to worry. This movie is still one heck of a thrill ride from beginning to end. There's explosions, car chases, high-tech gizmos, and diabolical games of cat-and-mouse. But underneath all the action, all the effects, all the excitement, is this one fascinating and harrowing concept: Some men just want to watch the world burn.

I'm something of a connoisseur of vampire movies. Even the bad ones are usually fun to watch. But this one... it just fell flat. Firstly, it's got nothing in it that we haven't already seen in a hundred other vampire movies. Second of all, I found it difficult to identify with or care about either of the main characters at all. They're not particularly interesting, despite several formulaic attempts to give them "depth." The only characters who are even remotely interesting or fun are the so-called "bad guys"--the vampires. Adam Baldwin, playing pretty much the same character he played in Firefly and Serenity; Neil Jackson, with whom I was previously unfamiliar, but marginally impressed; and Jeremy Sisto, who is clearly having a blast in this film, switching back and forth seemingly at random between a Russian accent and a Southern one (which was possibly the best part of the movie). Far from the first movie to have its villains be more engaging than its heroes, of course. But the problem is that the lives and histories of these characters--teeming with potential--are only just barely mentioned or hinted at. This movie could have scored at least another point or two with me if they had told it from the vampires' point of view, rather than the couple.

Fans of Buffy and Angel might want to give this movie a look, as it has no less than three former cast members: Clare Kramer, Adam Baldwin, and Tom Lenk (the other bright spot of the movie--he's hilarious). But anyone who doesn't recognize the names I just mentioned would do best to stay away.

This movie is campy, gory fun, amusing in parts, generally entertaining... and Jeffrey Combs is perfect as West--calm, creepy, and endearing at the same time. But at the same time, it lacks the beauty and eloquence of H.P. Lovecraft's original story, "Herbert West--Re-Animator." The modern, 1980's setting seems odd and a bit awkward. West would be much more at home in the world around the nineteen-teens and twenties, when the original story was written and set.

Lovecraft's works are so much more than just shocking tales and monster stories. They're beautiful and engaging, thrilling and--not just gory, but genuinely morbid in the truest sense of the world; a sense that seems to have been largely lost in the world of modern horror.

Re-Animator possesses none of the first three qualities. It does have some true morbidity--but only in the very small parts wherein it remains true to the source material.

To sum up: This is a good, entertaining movie, if you don't mind some gore. It's definitely worth watching. But it's the kind of movie you watch one night and then the next night forget about. It's far from worthy of cult classic status.

Ya know that scene in Being John Malkovich, where he goes into his own mind and everyone inside says nothing but "Malkovich Malkovich, Malkovich?" I felt that way watching this movie. Through the whole movie, I heard pretty much nothing but "Gaveston? Gaveston, Gaveston? Gaveston!" It's not that the movie's difficult to understand because of the Elizabethean language. I'm a huge fan of Shakespeare's plays, having read a number of them and seen plenty of film adaptations of them, so I can follow Elizabethean dialogue. But this... well, it ain't Shakespeare. Christopher Marlowe's style doesn't have the poetry or fluidity of Shakespeare. He didn't have Shakespeare's genius. Which makes this movie tough on the ear: boring, in fact.

I'm occasionally tempted to watch this movie again, just to see if maybe it DOES have something to redeem itself, perhaps something I missed... and maybe I will, someday. But for now, I'll stick with Branagh's Much Ado About Nothing.

This film is fascinating. Like watching a train wreck. Despite the interviews with his friends who believe to the contrary, I'm quite convinced Treadwell was absolutely nuts.

Watching him talk to and interact with the grizzly bears is like watching a child playing with dolls and stuffed animals. He talks about "the dangers" of what he does, and how anyone else who might come to live among the bears would be killed without question, but it's obvious that he sees no danger at all for himself. He refuses to recognize it, even when the signs are right in front of him that this world of bears is not as idyllic as he wants to believe. He sees himself as totally above reproach--not just a friend to the bears, but almost a god to them.

That initial mentality is compounded by the fact that, for months at a time, his only confidant was a camera. And so, with nothing to do but talk to himself, without any kind of response or feedback, his thought process is disjointed, repetitive, and rambling. Often funny, but no less disturbing for that. In fact, perhaps more so, in a whistling-in-the-dark sort of way.

Perhaps just as fascinating in its own way is the glimpse we get of director Werner Herzog. He makes it clear that the film is his own perspective on Treadwell and his life and work. He often editorializes, inserting his own opinions on what happened and why. Being a fan of Herzog's earlier work (particularly Aguirre: Wrath of God, another portrait of a madman outside of civilization), it was quite a treat for me to meet the man behind the camera... as much as it was to meet the man in front of it. And not nearly as disturbing, either.

The thing that generally stands out most about this movie is that it is long. Very long. And Russian. Very Russian.

It raises a lot of interesting questions about the nature of humanity, conscience, love, etc. which, honestly, I'd never thought to ask before, and don't care enough to answer now that they HAVE been asked. (Will Shame really save humanity? Who knows? Maybe. How will it do that? Haven't a clue. Now what's for lunch?) That's not to say I didn't like the movie. I did. It's very beautifully shot, such that I think it would be worth purchasing, even if I never sit through the whole thing again, just so that I can have scenes like "City of the Future" on hand as a reference for my own film-making endeavors.

Speaking of which: "City of the Future" is a very long scene consisting entirely of one character driving through the streets of Japan. It's supposed to look like, well, a city of the future, but to modern American audiences, it won't very much. It just looks like a guy driving his car through a series of tunnels, and past a series of skyscrapers, as day turns gradually into night. It goes on for five minutes.

But here's the thing, the paradox of this film: It didn't bother me that there is a five minute sequence consisting of nothing but shots of traffic. In fact, I loved it. It's an amazing scene, really quite beautiful in its own way. And a lot of the film is like that. It's slow and confusing, but still, it's never boring. Even once Kelvin gets aboard the Space Station, wherein 90% of the decor looks exactly the same. It's still fascinating to look at.

And the weird thing is, I can't figure out why. I mean, when I tried to watch 2001, another very long, beautifully shot movie set largely in space... I was bored literally to tears in the first 10 minutes, and had to shut it off. (No offense to fans of the film; I realize how incredibly crass I am for failing to recognize the genius of 2001. It's something I will just have to come to terms with on my own.) But for some reason, while watching Solaris, even when absolutely nothing was happening, I could not tear my eyes away. I have the strangest feeling that, if I were indeed to watch the movie again--without the subtitles--it could become one of my all-time favorites.

I don't know if I can recommend this film to others or not, because I have no idea if anyone else will share my sentiments. I don't know who will understand it and who won't, or who will even think it's worth trying to understand. There are, of course, some people who absolutely love it, and probably even some who understand it (or think they do), because... well, it's a classic, and a movie doesn't become a classic if nobody likes or understands it. But there are probably just as many people who hate it, because... well, it's a three-hour Russian movie.

At any rate, though, I think it's at least worth a look. If you find it boring, slow, incomprehensible, whatever... just turn it off. No big deal. But, on the other hand, if you find yourself inexplicably compelled to keep watching, unwilling or unable to tear yourself away for a single frame... well, then, you're welcome.

Being that it was the most popular and most memorable character of Andrew Lloyd Webber's stage musical, it seems that the chandelier has negotiated for a more central role in this film version.

Though actual line count is rendered moot by the fact that the film's new star has no mouth, it has a number of spectacular closeups, and is in fact given its own subplot, which stands as the framework of the film.

The chandelier suffers from no delusions, though. It knows that, despite its popularity, it remains a piece of the scenery, and as such, positively chews itself. It looms above, gleaming ominously in anticipation of what's to come. If you look hard enough, you can even see it wink at the camera during one of its closeups, as if to say, "Just wait till my big moment comes up!" And finally, when its big moment does come, the chandelier milks it for all its worth. It takes a full 30 seconds or more to reach the ground, during which time it chases two or three different opera patrons individually, growling at them as only a 2-ton piece of illumination can growl.

However, despite its definite diva antics on-set, fans of the lovely light-fixture will be happy to know that it still maintains a certain dedication to its craft. Yes, that's right... the chandelier does its own stunts

There aren't enough long, pretentious words in the English language to describe what an abominably insipid piece of tripe this is. I can tell that it is a comedy only thanks to those who told me how hard they laughed during this film. But I did not find one funny thing in this movie, or even anything that remotely looked like it could be considered funny! I've studied humor all my life; I thought I knew what has the potential to make people laugh vs. what doesn't... but then along comes this movie, and its popularity is a phenomenon that I cannot explain.

Not only is this movie not funny... it's not anything. It has no plot, no structure, no progression, no character arcs: this is barely even a movie! It's just a series of scenes, many with little or no connection to one another. Then the movie ends, not because anything or anyone has changed in any significant way, or any actual conclusionary events have come to pass, but simply because the director has run out of scenes.

True, some things do happen in the movie, and, when put together, some might even call it a plot. But would the movie, in its basic form, be any different had those events not happened? Not really. Therefore they have no real value, cinematic or otherwise, and serve only to provide the movie with more scenes.

Of course, I'm sure fans of the movie will say, "But it's not ABOUT the plot! It's about the characters!" I can see that. But what I can't see is why I should feel any connection or sympathy for any of them. Most of them don't even have any personality, but serve only to set Napoleon up for, and then react to, his various antics. Napoleon's own personality consists of nothing but the sum total of those various antics. No reason is given for them, nor any motivation other than that the audience is supposed to find them funny. But since they aren't, any chance of either liking or sympathizing with him disappears.

Perhaps we're supposed to sympathize with Napoleon because he's a loser who's put upon by everyone else, and we all know what that's like. Except that he brings it on himself! He's deliberately antagonistic, narcissistic, or both to everyone who crosses his path. The very first words out of his mouth, when asked the simple question of what he's going to do today, are, "Whatever I FEEL like doing! GOSH!" Which is completely uncalled for. And so, because I can neither like Napoleon nor understand him (you HAVE to have at least one or the other; even the most unsympathetic of characters need SOME motivation), and because Napoleon is the driving force of the movie, thus the movie becomes impossible to like.

This is much, much more than just a martial arts film. It's movies like this that made me want to be a filmmaker. Just when I start thinking that cinema has gone completely down the drain, a movie like this comes along and shows me just how incredible a film can be.

Visually, it's absolutely breathtaking: The cinematography, the set design, the color schemes... all of it comes together to make this film truly a thing of beauty.

And then there are the action sequences. The Western world tends to think of Martial Arts as two (or more) people with a grudge against one another, beating each other to a bloody pulp. But there's so much more to it than that. It's a ritual; a matter of honor and of ceremony. And as such, even if there is a grudge involved, it's not so much like a fight as like a dance. After all, as the name implies, Martial Arts is about... art.

But there's more to this film than the visual component. The content is excellent as well. The characters have incredible depth, and amazing insight. The dialogue is beautiful, and the plot is structured perfectly. And there are issues raised that are almost unfathomable to American audiences, and that Hollywood would never dream of addressing. Issues that could very well change your perspective on peace and morality forever.

And the actors: It's not easy to make a performance accessible to an audience that doesn't even understand the language you're speaking. But they do it; every one of them. Particularly Jet Li: Previously, I had seen Jet Li mainly in English-speaking roles. I never knew how great an actor he could be, until I saw him in this movie, in his own language.

To conclude: If, like me, you're a fan of martial arts, Jet Li, and the beautiful Ziyi Zhang, this movie will not disappoint. But if, like me, you are more a fan of beauty, art, philosophy, and the culture and history of a land several thousand years old... this movie could be the best of the decade.

I remember when this movie first came out, it got a number of good reviews. The main praise seemed to be that Jennifer Aniston could play a character other than Rachel Green (NOTE: For those who do not know, Rachel was a character on the popular show "Friends"). And that I'll give her. I believe the screenwriter went out of his way to make this character the anti-Friend. Only poor, miserable, white trash Justine ends up being even more shallow and selfish than any of the witty, upper-middle class, New Yorker Friends (a feat I didn't think possible). And just because it's a different role doesn't mean it's a good performance.

In fact, there were NO good performances in this movie. Not even John C. Reilly, who is one of my favourite actors. Much as I wanted to like him in his role, I found it hard because he had so little to do. He had some amusing moments, but for the most part his role is to sit there and be stoned, so that Jennifer Aniston can continue to feel put upon. I suppose the best performance was that of Zooey Deschanel, who has a couple of lines of mildly funny sarcasm. But still, there's nothing really to make it stand out.

The main problem with the movie, though, is the script. I knew I was in for trouble as Ms. Aniston spoke the very first line:

"As a girl you see the world as a giant candy store... filled with sweet candy and such."

Just what else, may I ask, would a candy store be filled with? Platypi? (NOTE to self: Begin next screenplay with, "As a girl you see the world as a giant candy store filled with platypi.") Most of the rest of the dialogue at least has the decency to be mediocre. But it's still incredibly overwrought (Mike White, the screenwriter, previously wrote for "Dawson's Creek". I am not in the least surprised). Not to mention lines like:

"Is this your last best chance? Are you gonna take it? Or are you going to your grave with unlived lives in your veins?"

Which has the (dis)honour of being the most asinine, pretentious, pseudo-philosophical drivel I've ever heard.

I thought at first that I hated the characters (incidentally, this is also my main problem with Salinger, the idol of one of the main characters). But as the film went on, I found that I really didn't care about them enough to hate them. I was completely disconnected, and felt nothing but total apathy towards everyone in the film.

Now, I must admit, I didn't watch the whole movie. Eventually I got to thinking about the million more satisfying, more productive things I could have been doing, and turned it off to go do them. So it's possible that there's some incredible scene in the last 20 minutes or so that brings it all together and redeems the picture in some way. But life is too short for me to waste a full 93 minutes on garbage like this.

This movie looks and feels just like a real documentary. Real 1920's newsreel footage (into which Woody Allen has been seamlessly inserted) is impossible to tell from the faux-footage Mr. Allen filmed himself. Scenes from the fake 1935 movie telling the Leonard Zelig story, which are shown periodically throughout the film, not only look like a film of that era, but are written and acted as such as well. And interviews with real experts, on the fictional character of Zelig, complete the effect quite nicely. There can be no doubt that this movie looks terrific. But the problem lies in the content.

Leonard Zelig, the human chameleon, is a fascinating character. But someone besides Woody Allen should have played him. Mr. Allen is (or can be) a brilliant writer/director, but his range as an actor is limited. And so, though we see plenty of brilliantly done, authentic-looking footage, photos, etc. of Leonard Zelig blending in with his surroundings, we hardly ever see him interact in those surroundings. The pictures and clips of Woody Allen as a rabbi, a fat person, a Nazi, etc. are amusing, but they are not substantial. We are told that he is able, not only to look like those around him, but to converse like them to. But the only time we see him do this is when he's playing a psychiatrist: no stretch for Mr. Allen, who discusses psychoanalysis in many of his films (though usually from the recipient's point-of-view). And so the only time we actually hear from Zelig is when Dr. Eudora Fletcher puts him into a trance, at which time he has no personality of his own. It's a shame; he's such a fascinating character, but the only way we really know he's a fascinating character is because we are told so by others. In lieu of scenes that help us get to know the characters personally, we are given narration and talking heads. This is not the way to make any film, not even a documentary.

When it comes to Woody Allen mockumentaries, I much prefer Take the Money and Run. It's not as researched and authentic-looking as Zelig, but it's far funnier, and far more engaging.

But now, finally, we get to see it done RIGHT.

This is the first film wherein Jim Carrey did not annoy me almost to the point of gouging out my eyes. He was, in fact, surprisingly subdued; off-beat and neurotic without being irritatingly wacky. And, for the first time, I really felt for his character.

Though I willingly give Mr. Carrey full marks for acting, I think the main reason I sympathized so much with Joel Barish was because of Charlie Kaufman's writing. I often find Mr. Kaufman's main characters surprisingly familiar (a loser, unlucky in life, unlucky in love, who is caught up in surreality. This is my life to a T), and as such, I feel like I have a personal investment in what happens to them.

The story and execution are also quite ingenious, and, more importantly, understated. Plot points are revealed to us subtly; we are not hit over the head with them. It amazes me how rare this is in modern films. My hat's off to Mr. Kaufman.

I have yet to see a Naomi Watts movie that was worth watching for any reason other than her. I sat through Mulholland Dr., The Ring, Le Divorce, and now 21 Grams, and I remain at best unimpressed, and at worst downright appalled.

There's not too much I can say about 21 Grams, except that I don't understand a word of it. I thought I'd got it pretty well figured out, but as the film progressed, I began to realize that I hadn't the slightest idea what happens when, to whom, with whom, or after what. I do not blame the movie entirely. I blame my memory for some of it. There were certain scenes that I was sure had involved one character, when they actually involved another. But on the other hand, we are given so much to think about and remember in this film that I can't see how we can be expected to remember at the very end that one character had a connection with another at the very beginning.

The problem with this film arises from the chronology, and lack thereof. I enjoy the non-linear timeline in films, provided it's done well, and seems to serve a decent purpose (e.g. Memento). But I have never seen a time-order so complicated or erratic as this one. All-in-all, there had to be at least half a dozen different chronologies going. I guess they ended up explaining it pretty well (though it made my head spin), but the problem was that it seemed to add up to nothing more than a bunch of smoke and mirrors ("See? You thought that was what happened here. But it's actually this! Isn't that cool?" Well... not really).

NOTE: This review was designed to be read in conjunction with my review of Desperado (1995).

El Mariachi was made for $7,000 and post-produced for $220,000. On the DVD, Robert Rodriguez says that most of the $7,000 went into film and processing, and that on the screen is only about $600. Having watched his "10 Minute Film School," which is also on the DVD, I am absolutely amazed at how much he was able to do with so little.

Despite this fact, the film still is pretty rough, and lacks the "polished" look of Desperado and Once Upon a Time in Mexico. But El Mariachi has something that they don't; something much more important: Style.

El Mariachi has little or no vulgarity, and, despite its subject matter, surprisingly little violence (OK, there's some. It IS an R-rated movie; but it could be a lot worse). And yet, the villains seem more powerful, the hero more heroic, and the chase scenes far more intense than anything in the larger-budgeted sequels. The film is simple, a bit unlikely, but in the end very effective. Just like El Mariachi himself (more on that in my Desperado review).

Only drawback: One thing of note in both sequels was some pretty good dialogue. El Mariachi's dialogue seemed to lack the edge that the other two films had. But I attribute this to the fact that subtitles are nearly always pretty lackluster. All around a very good film.

First, let me state that this review comes from the point of view of a devout Christian, but a Protestant, not a Catholic.

I have mixed feelings on this film. On the one hand, it is quite possibly THE single most violent film I have ever seen (though, it should be noted that I generally avoid violent films, as I am a bit squeamish).

This is meant to be an accurate portrayal of the Suffering of Christ. Now, I am not an expert by any means, but watching the relentless beating, torture, and punishment inflicted upon Jesus, it seems to me that he would have been dead long before he got to the cross.

Here is an account of the beating of Jesus, which, I would estimate, went on for about 20 minutes, though it seemed to take hours:

First, they strip him, and beat him with reeds, over and over, while jeering and spitting. Every so often, they pan out, so that we can see how the damage to his back is progressing. It's a bit icky. Then, they stop.

Then, they get out what I shall refer to as the "Cat o' Nine Tails". And they beat him, over and over, while jeering and spitting. Every so often, they pan out, so that we can see how the damage to his back is progressing. It's quite icky. Then, they stop.

Then, they flip him over. And they beat him over and over, while jeering and spitting. Every so often, they pan out, so that we can see how the damage to his back is progressing. It's really icky.

Then, they continue to beat him, kick him, spit on him, force a crown of thorns on his head, and make him carry his cross until he passes out- repeatedly. There is an incredible amount of blood lost. It drips from hundreds of places on his body, and from every single hair on his head, leaving a trail from the whipping block to Golgatha. And yet, when the nails are finally driven into his hands (NOTE: This is inaccurate. Hanging from nails in one's hands would rip the hand apart. The nails would have been driven into bones in the wrists), there is enough left to spurt up about 6 inches.

And even after all of this, the worst was yet to come. I don't want to give too much away, but let's just say it involves a crow.

It's very hard to gauge James Caviezel's performance as Jesus, since his sole purpose, basically, is to suffer, and the suffering is so immense that it eventually becomes almost farcical. This is compounded by several melodramatic slo-mo shots of Jesus collapsing in pain. One would be OK, towards the end. But there must be at least 6 of them, which is overkill.



Anyway, that was the bad. Now for the good: The cinematography is excellent. Except for the blood and violence, this is a very beautiful film. Towards the end, there is a shot of what I can only assume to be Hell, and it blew me away.

Except for James Caviezel, the performances are all extremely moving. We can feel Peter's zeal for his Lord when he cuts off the ear of the Roman soldier, and his remorse after denying that he even knows Jesus. We see Mary wanting to reach out to her son and not being able to, not even truly being able to understand what it is that is happening to him. And, though apparently people have criticized Mr. Gibson for portraying Pilate as too sympathetic, I myself have always identified with Pilate, and thought that Hristo Naumov Shopov's performance was one of the best portrayals I have ever seen.

There is also some incredible use of parallel cutting in this film: It juxtaposes Jesus' suffering and crucifixion with scenes from the Last Supper, from his ministry, and even from his childhood. There is a very touching scene/flashback involving Mary and Jesus, which I will not divulge here, except to say that it is quite well executed.

The dialogue: Much of it either quotes or paraphrases actual Scripture. I have often said that the best way to maintain accuracy in a film is to stick as closely as possible to the source material (whether or not Scripture actually is accurate is a debate for another time. Mr. Gibson obviously believes that it is, and thus has remained true to it). But just enough is changed and added so that people like myself, who know the story by heart, will stop and take note of exactly what is being said. There are some powerful, powerful words in this film, and not just the ones from Scripture. Pilate and his wife have a terrific exchange concerning the nature of truth, which gave me a new perspective on Pilate's simple question, "What is truth?" in John 18:38. Also: I think Jesus' simple prayer in Gethsemane at the beginning illustrates his suffering far better than the scenes of relentless beating and torture later on.

The subtitles: At first, I was a bit perturbed that Mr. Gibson had decided to put subtitles on the film, rather than simply having the performances speak for themselves, as was his original intention. And, all through, I thought, "I'd be able to tell what's going on just as easily without the subtitles." However, that's because I know the story. But there are people going to see this movie who don't know the story as well as I do. And, though they'd probably be able to get the basic gist of it without the subtitles, they'd still miss out on a lot.

And, finally, the Resurrection: Obviously, the Resurrection has to be portrayed in some way in the film, otherwise it's just "Christ Gets Beaten to a Bloody Pulp." I have heard people in various Christian organizations criticize Mr. Gibson for not concentrating enough on Christ's rising from the dead. However: This is meant to be a film about Jesus' suffering, and I can see how spending a lot of time at the end on the Resurrection would take away from that. And so, the Resurrection is done very simply, and very quickly. But it gets the point across. Simplicity is usually best.



One final note: I do not find this film to be at all Anti-Semitic. Yes, there are some Jewish people who are portrayed as evil. But there are also some Jewish people who are portrayed as good. And, likewise, there are some Romans who are portrayed as evil, and some as good.

WARNING! SPOILERS FOLLOW.

I saw Fight Club a month or two back, and was kind of unimpressed with it. It was a decently made film, with good acting and good directing... but something about it just didn't quite work for me. That is until I began to examine it more closely. Then I realized what it really is: It's not a life-altering drama or a vicious black comedy, as it is proclaimed to be... rather, it is a cleverly disguised attempt to bring one of the greatest comic strips of all time to the big screen.

That's right, Fight Club is really an adaptation of Calvin and Hobbes. Just take a look at the similarities...

Fight Club: The Narrator (hereinafter "Jack") feels depressed and alone, which leads to his fabricating Tyler Durden, a friend and companion who is everything Jack wishes he could be.

Calvin and Hobbes: Calvin has no friends, which leads to his projecting everything he wishes he could be into his stuffed tiger, who becomes his friend and companion Hobbes.

Fight Club: When Jack looks at Tyler, he sees Tyler. When anyone else looks at Tyler, they see Jack.

Calvin and Hobbes: When Calvin looks at Hobbes, he sees a tiger. When anyone else looks at Hobbes, they see a stuffed toy.

Fight Club: Jack simultaneously detests Marla and desires her. He projects his desire through Tyler, though in several scenes we see this desire in Jack himself.

Calvin and Hobbes: Calvin simultaneously detests Susie and desires her. Throughout the course of the strip, we see this desire manifested in Hobbes. But in the very early episodes, Calvin expresses the same desire himself, if only to himself.

Fight Club: Jack expresses his dissatisfaction with his father, and the job he did as a parent.

Calvin and Hobbes: Calvin frequently speaks of his father doing poorly in the "polls".

Fight Club: While at work, Jack is under the thumb of a demanding boss, whom he does not like.

Calvin and Hobbes: While at school, Calvin is under the thumb of Miss Wormwood, a demanding teacher whom he does not like.

Fight Club: When frustrated with the world around him, Jack goes to a place in his imagination (that place with the penguin) where all around him things are serene.

Calvin and Hobbes: When frustrated with the world around him, Calvin goes to places in his imagination, where he is Spaceman Spiff, Tracer Bullet, Stupendous Man, etc.

So, thus we see that, though Bill Waterson himself forbad the filming of his strip, a few brave men had the courage to go behind his back and do what they felt was right. Never has there been such a courageous act by filmmakers since the days of Nosferatu, which was another thinly-disguised attempt to bring a beloved character to the screen... Count Chocula.