Thank God for Dave Foley. Praise Allah for him, while you’re at it. At one point in Postal, the character he plays, a New Age cult leader and charlatan who owes over a million dollars to the Internal Revenue Service, responds to something one of his followers says with, “That’s a beautifully… retarded sentiment.”
You get the feeling this moment was improvised, and indeed, Foley spent years refining his deadpan style of delivery on the comedy series The Kids in the Hall. Just putting him in a scene results in off-the-cuff moments that feel genuinely fresh – which is a quality sorely missing from most of Uwe Boll’s would-be comedy.
Now, it may seem unfair to pick on Postal, given it was based on a video game, which rarely results in a memorable film. But according to the press notes, the game only supplied the anarchic plot and ultra-violence; it was Boll who turned it into a spoof of contemporary America touching on everything from politicians and religion to corporat culture eand mass consumerism.
Postal takes place in a mid-western city called Paradise, and revolves around Dude (Zach Ward), a much put-upon everyman who hatches a plan with his Uncle Dave (Foley) to steal a shipment of phallic-shaped “Krotchy” dolls, which are the number one toy this holiday season. Unfortunately, the toys have also been targeted by Islamic terrorists led by Osama bin Laden (Larry Thomas). They plan to use the vials of avian flu smuggled inside the dolls to bring about America’s destruction.
The movie is faithful to its video game roots as far as serving up tasteless violence, which victimizes society’s most defenseless first. Sometimes, the outrageousness and Boll’s attempts at satire meet with decent results, such as a scene inside a welfare office. After a crazed gunmen opens fire on unflinching government workers, Dude ends up crawling from corpse-to-corpse looking for a ticket so he can be next in line.
I also laughed when Boll, one of most maligned filmmakers working today, appeared as himself and confirmed one of his critics’ claims, that his movies are financed with Nazi gold. “We have to do something with all that gold,” he says.
The jokes are delivered rat-a-tat-style along the lines of Airplane. But Postal also wants to be a satire, and on that level, doesn’t succeed. The problem is Boll chooses targets that are just too obvious. Haven’t there been enough films within the past 30 years that argued people living in trailer parks have poor grooming habits, corporations are crazy, Americans love their guns, and the media relishes violence?
Granted, Postal does make a claim that religious followers are either bubble-headed dupes or out for their own selfish rewards, and that may be novel, but I didn’t think the movie did enough with that idea.
Attempting to push the envelope, Boll even has his bin Laden impersonator call up George W. Bush about insurance claims on an oil refinery, but really, how daring is making fun a widely-unpopular president?
Finally, I think Boll missed the boat by not satirizing, of all things, video games themselves. On second thought, given how joyless the action sequences are for those who can only sit by and watch, maybe he does unwittingly take a swipe at this form of entertainment, where the only catharsis is for whoever holds the controller.
Stuck was inspired by a real-life incident in which a Ft. Worth, Texas woman struck a man with her car, and afraid of going to the police, left him in her windshield for several days.
Director Stuart Gordon and screenwriter John Strysik kept the basic premise, but turned the victim into an unfortunate soul recently fallen into homelessness. In doing so, the filmmakers elevate Stuck from suspense thriller into a commentary about society’s lack of empathy, as the film shows a multitude of characters continuously failing the main protagonist, even after their actions cause him life-threatening harm.
Stephen Rea plays Tom, a former project manager who lost his job and, at the start of the movie, has been evicted from his home. Brushed off by the State Employment Office, kicked out of a city park, he is reduced to pushing a shopping cart.
Then he runs into Brandi (Mena Suvari), or should we say, Brandi runs into him, with a car she has been driving while under the influence of ecstasy. Tom goes flying through her windshield, where his bloody, sliced-up body gets stuck. Brandi, hysterical at first, doesn’t stop driving until she reaches a hospital, and even then, decides to drive home instead. She is up for a promotion at her job, and fearful police will discover her drug use, makes the panicky decision to hide the damaged car and Tom in her garage.
At a loss for what to do, she confides in her drug-dealer boyfriend (Russell Hornsby), who unaware Tom is alive and embedded in her windshield, convinces her not to call the cops. By morning, Brandi is waiting for Tom to die from his injuries. He, however, has enough awareness to know help isn’t on the way, and starts doing whatever he can to save his own life.
Stuck works because up until a point, both characters are reacting to a terrible situation in ways the viewer can understand, even if they cannot be condoned. The movie seems to argue Brandi should face up to what she has done, if the alternative is Tom will die. Yet the viewer can also see the situation from her point of view: yes, she made a mistake driving under the influence, but what if that one indiscretion costs her promotion, maybe even her job? Should she sacrifice her life to save someone who, as far as she knows, is just some homeless man?
Brandi may choose self-preservation over taking responsibility for her actions, but the film is full of characters showing a tin ear to the troubles of others. There’s Tom’s landlord, the police, and alarmingly, the very bureaucracy which is supposed to serve as his safety net. But Brandi’s boyfriend also provides what looks like support and protection, when all he really wants is to satisfy his own selfish urges.
If Stuck provides food for thought, it still falls short of perfect, mainly because the filmmakers aim for Hitchcockian suspense, while Gordon’s sensibilities seem more along the lines of his gory cult classic Re-Animator (1985). As Tom and Brandi wage a battle of wills to see whether he gets out of the garage alive, the film gradually lapses into scenes of B-movie nuttiness: Brandi beating up a gratuitously-naked woman; a wince-inducing tug-of-war between a rambunctious Pomeranian and Tom’s… well, maybe it’s best not to say.
Luckily for audiences, Gordon and Strysik have made the players and their scenario clear by that point. The movie also benefits from good performances from its leads, including Suvari, whose eyes and face had heretofore not been considered her two chief attributes. Here she does solid work as an ordinary woman trapped in a state of denial. Yes, she flashes some skin for the camera, but that isn’t likely to be what her character is remembered for.
As for the usually reliable Rea, seemingly born with sad eyes and a hangdog face, his humanity shines through, even after his visage is half-covered in latex blood and fake cuts. Meanwhile, his facial expressions, or lack thereof, totally sell Stuck’s most harrowing sequence: Nothing to do with grievous bodily harm, just walking past homeless people camped out on a sidewalk, and not knowing if he may be joining them.
Christopher Nolan’s Batman Begins set a very high bar for modern superhero films, one other would-be giants have struggled to leap over. With its attention to detail, faithfulness to the spirit of the comics, and well-implemented deviations that add to the mythos of the character, Batman Begins is monstrously impressive. Here’s the good news: Iron Man has that same vibe.
Tony Stark is the wealthy CEO of Stark Industries, a world leader in technological advancement, mostly for the purpose of weapons production. A flirtatious playboy and charismatic smooth-talker on top of a remarkable intellect and an amazing command of engineering, Stark is arrogance personified, uncaring of the pain he helps inflict, and on top of the world. But his world comes crashing down when, whilst in Afghanistan demoing a new killer missile, he is captured by terrorists who demand that he build a missile for them. During the ordeal, he is critically wounded. Yinsen, a doctor and fellow hostage, saves Tony’s life, and the two resolve to escape by building a suit of metal armor. They succeed, though the price is high, and Tony develops a new outlook on life, one that drives him to build even better armor in the hopes of righting the wrongs he has committed developing weapons.
What makes Iron Man so good is its rich characters, especially Tony Stark. I’m not sure what sort of preparation Robert Downey Jr. undertook for the role, but the man IS Tony Stark, and he handles the transition from better-than-everyone to humbled-with-newfound-purpose with great expertise. Marvel comic fans will have little to complain about: everything that makes Tony Stark who he is translates to the movie beautifully; his flirtatiousness, his inner turmoil, his wit… It’s all here. Gwyneth Paltrow also shines as Pepper Potts, meshing nicely with Tony’s charm. Ms. Potts is an admirable character, holding herself above the kind of woman that Tony usually involved himself with, yet convincingly worried about the man she has grown to care about. Tony and Pepper have a nicely complicated relationship that is a breath of fresh air compared to the quintessential romantic pairing forced down my throat by other superhero flicks.
Director Jon Favreau added two important elements that flesh out the film: humor and political commentary. The movie makes very liberal use of the former, but this isn’t over-the-top Michael Bay “humor.” That is to say, it is oftentimes subtle, genuinely funny, and makes the characters all the more endearing. Interspersed with the film’s more serious moments, the excellent application of humor ensures that not just comic book fans come away pleased; even movie-goers with absolutely zero former knowledge of Iron Man will very likely enjoy the film. Strong political undertones abound, and Iron Man doesn’t shy away from showing that there are good and bad people everywhere in the world, from all walks of life. It ends up being more profound than, say, The Kingdom, which engaged in too much American hero worship instead of asking the hard questions of why America makes war in the first place. The existence of good and bad in places you may not expect one or the other to exist is the film’s central theme, and though there is an ultimate villain for Tony to overcome, this a character-versus-self story at its core.
Favreau clearly didn’t want to rush the film into its action scenes without taking care to develop characters, and thank whatever deity you believe in for that. Make no mistake, however: when action hits, it both intense and thoughtful, brought to life with glorious special effects. Augmenting the visuals is a very fitting musical score, kicking in to high gear when the armor is donned. It’s very high energy music in action scenes, and more reserved throughout, which is perfect.
That’s the good news. Here’s the bad: a sequel is a painful two years away. But if Jon Favreau remains the director, I doubt I’ll have anything to worry about. Iron Man is an exceptional piece of work. Would I call it the best superhero movie ever? … Maybe. Don’t miss it, no matter what walk of life you hail from. And I cannot stress this enough: stay after the credits start rolling!
Check out my review of the first volume of the Honey and Clover manga series here, and my review of A Taste of Teahere. I really love Viz Pictures, and although these films are not two of my favorites from their catalog, they are still titles which I would import if I were in charge!
Honey and Clover
Directed by Masahiro Takata
Viz Pictures, 116 minutes
Unrated
I love the Honey and Clover manga and anime series, but the movie left me a bit cold. I watched the first episode of the live action drama series, and I have to admit the film is a much better adaptation than the TV show.
For the unfamiliar, here’s the plot in a nutshell: Takemoto is in love with the talented Hagu, a painting student and the younger cousin of professor Hanamoto at an art school near Tokyo. The talented eighth-year senior Morita is also in love with Hagu, the only artist who has ever posed a challenge to him. Meanwhile, Yamda is in love with mutual friend Mayama, who is in love with his boss at his internship. If the right people fell for each other at the right time, there would be no dramatic tension. That said, don’t get your hopes up, because in this film nobody gets together with anybody.
The film favorably adapts the characters to the big screen; Mayama is portrayed as the stalker he really is, Yamada cries less (she hardly cries at all, really), and Hagu is physically small without being either lolicon (like the anime) or hamster-like (as in the manga). Hanamoto and Morita appear much older in real life than they do in the manga (which is accurate). Takemoto is a bit of a blank slate, but that is the crux of his character.
Due to the serialized nature of the manga, the plot does not unfold in a three-act narrative, rather, the story unwinds across the screen. I’m not sure it would make sense to fans unfamiliar with the original work, and it will certainly bore viewers who are not experienced meandering films typical of international festivals.
My disappointment in the film is two-tiered. First of all, it does not reflect my actual college experience on any level. Granted, I went to an American film school and not a Tokyo art school… but I was hoping to identify in some small way. I strongly identified with some of the characters in the anime/manga versions. I can’t put my finger on the factor that made the film less universal.
My second disappointment comes from the ridiculous “making art” montages. Hagu and Morita do a lot of abstract expressionist art in montages which are presented to the viewer in a way that forces the message “Gee! Painting sure is fun!” or worse: “I wish I was so young and talented!” The art produced in these montages is not great, and you can’t force me into thinking painting is that much fun! I’ve tried it!
The English-lyric songs on the soundtrack have distractingly literal lyrics (the songs directly relate to the action on screen). If the songs were in Japanese I wouldn’t be distracted by the lyrics–even if I was presented with subtitles. The songs come off in a Felicity-buy-my-soundtrack! commercially way.
I’m glad Viz imported this so Honey & Clover fans can watch it, but compared to the high bar set by other Viz Pictures, I was let down a little bit.
The Honey and Clover DVD will be available on May 13th, 2008.
Funky Forest
Directed by Katsuhito Ishii, Shunichiro Miki, Anikii
Viz Pictures, 150 minutes
Unrated
Funky Forest is a collection of loosely-related short films which run the gamut from boring-slice-of-life to hilarious comedy, from science fiction to dance films; a rock and roll classroom gives way to a story about duel comedians in the far future; disturbing Cronenberg-like creatures appear inexplicably in the second half of the film. The central theme of the shorts is sexual in nature: phallic creatures and lonely men fill the 120+ minutes of screen time. This is the most experimental film in the Viz Pictures catalog so far, and not kid-friendly.
Like any anthology work, I enjoyed some of the shorts much more than others. My favorite shorts were the concert in the forest, the rock and roll high school, and the alien comedy duo Pikko-Rikko-chan. The other 35% of the film I could live without watching again.
Katuhito Ishii started off in animation, so several of the shorts involve characters who work in animation, not unlike the mom subplot in Taste of Tea. Since Funky Forest is weirder, the animation subplot involves a man with a giant head and someone translating for a director who happens to (also) be a dog.
Remember eXistenZ - the 1999 movie with the organic videogame controllers? There’s a lot of stuff like that in Funky Forest. Students in a junior high music class are forced to play frightening organic mutant-alien creature instrument things which are creepily sexual. But it’s OK, because it’s a comedy, I guess…? The creature work is excellent–fetal salarymen with schlongs as long as their legs dangle from weird tentacle things, and you can’t even tell if it’s models or CG or what! Even I’m not sure if this is an endorsement or a warning!
Overall, I got the sense that one of the three directors really wanted to make a full length dance movie. The dance/dream sequence on the beach is the most memorable scene in the movie–but there just wasn’t enough plot to make it into a feature film.
Ishii’s Taste of Tea was an extremely accessible narrative work compared to Funky Forest. Much of the cast of Tea reappears in Funky Forest in central roles. Funky Forest is essentially a v.1.5 sequel for people who want to watch “something else like a that!”
A good film draws you into the world of the film, and is memorable for days afterwards. Funky Forest achieves both of these qualities, and is long enough I was not left wanting more. I kind of wanted less. It was really awesome compared to Akira Kurosawa’s Dreams.
The DVD Funky Forest: The First Contact is currently available.
The big story this week is Fairy Tail, a giddy, fast-paced adventure about a female wizard-in-training who travels in the company of a brash boy and a talking cat. Del Rey made the unusual decision to release the first two volumes simultaneously—all the better to get readers hooked, I suspect. Initial reviews have been positive, with About.Manga’s Deb Aoki and Newsarama’s Chris Mautner both declaring it a winner. (Actually, Mautner calls it a “puppy dog of a manga, that only wants to play fetch and have its ears scratched every now and then.”) Our own Chloe Ferguson will be posting her four cents shortly, so stay tuned.
Given the serious shortage of good titles this week, I dedicated today’s column to two manga-cum-movies: Love*Com and Nana, both distributed by Viz Pictures. Though the two films cover roughly the same amount of material—six volumes of Love*Com and five of Nana—the results are utterly different. Read on for the full scoop.
One final note for the budget-conscious otaku: Manga Xanadu blogger Lori Henderson has unearthed a great sale at BookCloseouts.com. From now until March 31st, all Tokyopop titles are discounted 75%. As she points out, you won’t be able to snag the most recent or most popular titles at this enticing $2.49 rate (sorry, Gakuen Alice fans), but you will find plenty of crowd-pleasers—+ANIMA, Chronicles of the Cursed Sword, Dragon Voice, Fruits Basket, Immortal Rain, Initial D, Magic Knight Rayearth, Peach Girl, Rebirth—a few rarities—CLAMP School Paranormal Investigators, Dolis—and even some books from their POP Fiction line. Thanks for the tip, Lori!
SHIPPING THIS WEEK:
Berserk, Vol. 22 (Dark Horse)
Blood Alone, Vol. 3 (Infinity Studios)
The Dark Wraith of Shannara (Del Rey)
Eiken, Vol. 9 (Anime Works)
Empty Empire, Vol. 7 (CMX)
Fairy Tale, Vols. 1-2 (Del Rey)
High School Girls, Vol. 9 (DrMaster)
MPD Psycho, Vol. 4 (Dark Horse)
Nightmares for Sale, Vol. 2 (Aurora)
Strawberry Panic, Vol. 2 (Seven Seas)
Venus vs. Virus, Vol. 3 (Seven Seas)
Lovely Complex
Distributed by Viz Pictures
Running time: 100 minutes
Nana
Distributed by Viz Pictures
Running time: 113 minutes
As anyone who’s seen Batman Begins or Spiderman can attest, adapting a long-running comic for the silver screen is an art in itself. Done poorly, such films alienate devoted fans with the omission of favorite characters and glossing of seminal plotlines, or confuse newcomers with their in-jokes and choppy storytelling. Done well, however, comic book movies bring a fresh perspective to the material—adding shades of nuance to a principal character, perhaps, or fleshing out an element of the story that had previously been left to the imagination—while hooking a new audience. Viz Pictures has begun licensing such manga-cum-movies, including adaptations of two popular titles from their Shojo Beat imprint: Aya Nakahara’s Love*Com (a.k.a. Lovely Complex) and Ai Yazawa’s Nana. These two films make an instructive case study, as they illustrate the pitfalls and potentials of bridging the gap between page and screen.
Love*Complex is the weaker of the two adaptations. The premise remains intact: Risa, the tallest girl in the seventh grade, develops a crush on Otani, the shortest boy in her class. Though superficial opposites, the two are really kindred spirits, sharing an enthusiasm for Umibozu (a Japanese rap artist that their classmates detest), swapping good-natured insults, and bonding over memories of rejection for being too tall and too short, respectively.
The movie’s problems begin as soon as the story calls for obstacles to prevent Risa and Otani from making a love connection. The scriptwriter conjures two romantic rivals—Otani’s ex-girlfriend and Risa’s handsome homeroom teacher—from different volumes in the series’ run, but only succeeds in making the homeroom hottie an integral part of the story. Even then, Mr. “Mighty” Maitake’s arrival is a bolt from the blue, and is never satisfactorily explained; he’s simply inserted into the final act of the story so that he and Otani can compete for Risa’s affections—literally . (The two play a pick-up basketball game in front of the entire school.) The other major drawback to Love*Com is its superficial treatment of the principal characters. Though Aya Nakahara’s manga charts the ups and downs of Risa and Otani’s friendship in minute detail, the movie’s frantic pace never allows us to get to know the characters or understand why they’re drawn to each other; we simply see them walk through a variety of stock scenes—cultural festivals, school trips—without actually seeing the evolution of their feelings dramatized.
It’s a pity that the Love*Com script feels so hastily assembled, as the film has the potential to appeal to both long-time fans and newcomers. The button-cute leads have some chemistry, even if the script doesn’t give them much to do. And the script shows flashes of inspiration; a “director” surrogate periodically interrupts the proceedings to explain certain peculiar-to-manga conventions (most notably the nosebleed-as-sign-of-arousal), intoning this information over strains of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. These digressions occur just a few times, but add some much-needed humor to a generally lackluster film.
The Nana movie, on the other hand, is proof that one can adhere faithfully to the source material and still produce something fresh and original. The movie offers a somewhat streamlined account of the series’ first five volumes, beginning with the two Nanas’ fateful encounter on a Tokyo-bound train and ending with Trapnest’s first visit to the girls’ apartment. Most of the dramatic juice is supplied by Hachi’s relationship with the feckless art student Shoji, and by Nana O.’s relationship with Trapnest bassist Ren.
Though I’ve enjoyed the manga immensely, I always found Hachi’s relentless enthusiasm and boy-crazy antics rather irritating and couldn’t imagine why Nana O. didn’t feel the same way about her. As portrayed by Aoi Miyazaki, however, the character made more sense. Miyazaki does a superb job of showing us why Nana O. takes a shine to someone who seems too ditzy, too dependent, and too femme to hang with an up-and-coming punk act, revealing Hachi’s inherent sweetness and decency as well as her fragility, her immaturity, and her selfishness. Mika Nakashima, as Nana O., also turns in a solid performance, playing her character as a believable mixture of belligerence, determination, and vulnerability.
The other great advantage of the movie is its soundtrack. All of the rock-n-roll shoptalk and song lyrics seemed a little preposterous on the page; I had a hard time imaging why Trapnest or Black Stones commanded loyal followings. Seeing and hearing these acts in the film, however, transported me back to my college years, reminding me how passionately I felt about certain musicians, and how much their songs felt like an expression of my own identity. (Or, in the immortal words of Roberta Flack, “He was strumming my pain with his fingers/singing my words with his song…”) The film’s two lengthy concert scenes are highpoints of the film, offering us a window into both girls’ complicated emotional lives—their dreams, their disappointments, their improbably close relationship.
I had a few small bones to pick with the scriptwriters—what happened to Junko and Kyosuke?—but on the whole, I found Nana immensely entertaining. The true measure of the film’s appeal, however, is that my sister, who isn’t a manga maven, loved it too, and wanted to know if there was a sequel. Thank goodness the answer is yes—and Viz Pictures will release Nana II in July.
A viewing tip: if you enjoyed Nana, you might want to rent Hula Girls, a heartwarming comedy that may remind you of The Full Monty (with no naked middle-aged British men, thankfully); Kamikaze Girls, an adaptation of Novala Takemoto’s bitingly funny novel; and Ping Pong, a manga-cum-movie based on a five-volume series by Taiyo “Tekkonkinkreet” Masamoto. All are available through Viz Pictures.
Love*Com is available now; Nana will be available on April 8th.
I love me a good sci-fi flick as much as the next self-proclaimed geek, so I had high hopes for Danny Boyle’s Sunshine. I didn’t catch it in the theater—chalk it up to sheer laziness—so I added it to my Netflix queue to see whether it lived up to its “fresh” rating at Rotten Tomatoes or deserved to languish in box-office oblivion. (The film grossed less than $4 million during its brief theatrical run last summer.) Alas, I wish I’d heeded the advice of the always reliable Anthony Lane, who summarized Sunshine thusly:
The film is nonsense, and what counts is whether viewers will feel able to lay aside their logical complaints and bask in what remains: a trip in search of a tan.
Put simply, it’s a stinker, despite its classy cast—Cillian Murphy, Hiroyuki Sanada, Michelle Yeoh—stunning visuals, and risk-taking director.
The story itself has promise. A crew of astronauts is dispatched into deep space with an atomic payload. Their destination: our dying sun, which has begun to sputter out billions of years ahead of schedule, causing Earth to descend into a permanent state of winter. The first forty or so minutes of the film are rather uneventful, depicting life about the Icarus II. (Yes, it’s that kind of film: heavy on the symbolism, light on the insight.) The crew waxes philosophical over their mission, sends messages to loved ones at home, and squabbles over the small stuff. (Who left the toilet seat up—that sort of thing.) I think this section is supposed to serve as a character study, introducing us to the crew so that we care who lives and who dies in the final reel. Unfortunately, most of the cast lacks the requisite gravitas to convince us that they’re scientists and pilots; Yeoh and Sanada seem to be the only adults among the sullen crew. The biggest misfire casting-wise, however, is the normally excellent Murphy. That quiet intensity he’s brought to roles in Batman Begins, Breakfast on Pluto, and The Wind That Shakes the Barley has been replaced by bored passivity; it’s hard to believe that the silent, shaggy-haired fellow in the wifebeater is supposed to be the mission’s nuclear physicist. Couldn’t the screenwriter have fed him a few lines of scientific mumbo-jumbo to boost his credibility—perhaps a reference to the space-time continuum, or a detailed explanation of how, exactly, the ship’s payload is supposed to jump-start a star?
The crew’s routine is interrupted by a distress signal from the Icarus I, which vanished before successfully completing a similar mission. The astronauts rehearse familiar arguments about tracing the signal’s source—didn’t any of them see Alien?—ultimately deciding that their sister ship might still have its nuclear payload intact, offering them a plan B if their own Manhattan-sized bomb should fail to detonate. This decision triggers a series of small catastrophes that damage the ship, compromise the crew’s oxygen supply, and kill off the less developed cast members.
Sunshine’s final act quickly devolves into a grim hybrid of slasher flick and kamikaze drama when the crew realizes it has a saboteur in its midst. Whatever claims to scientific accuracy the film made in its first reels are quickly refuted by a series of ludicrous set-pieces, including a scene in which several astronauts hurtle through the vacuum of space wrapped only in some insulation—and survive. (Even if the scientists at the Jet Propulsion Laboratories charged too hefty a consulting fee, wasn’t there someone on the set who could point out that the human body doesn’t withstand dramatic changes in pressure and temperature?) Other signs of desperation are evident as well: sympathetic characters meet gruesome ends purely for the shock value, and Boyle begins employing jump-cuts and shaky cams to heighten the sense of urgency—and perhaps conceal the saboteur’s identity—as the dwindling number of survivors continue their one-way journey to the sun.
The biggest problem with Sunshine, however, is that it never feels like a fresh gloss on a tired trope. Boyle worked wonders with tried-and-true B-movie formula in 28 Days Later, which borrowed liberally from George Romero’s classic zombie pictures while updating the genre to suit contemporary tastes. In Sunshine, however, these hat-tips to Stanley Kubrick and Ridley Scott never feel like organic elements of the story; like Quentin Tarantino, Boyle seems to have confused air quotes and knowing nods with genuine homage. I didn’t mind the shout-out to the silky-voiced HAL, but it felt utterly gratuitous, as if Boyle was intent on reminding us that he’s seen a lot of classic science fiction. This high-mindedness begins weighing on the film early in the first reel, when Boyle employs the kind of lingering camera shots and languid pace I associate with Tartakovsky. If Boyle had something interesting to say about human nature, or about our dependence on the sun for existence, such expository dawdling might be excusable. But when such Solaris Lite scenes are the prelude to an artsy, Freddie vs. Jason spectacle, the audience feels cheated: why the bait and switch?
About the best I can say for Sunshine is that the sound and set crews did a terrific job designing the ship. The movie looks like a million bucks—well, $40 million, to be accurate—and has a suitably eerie, minimalist soundtrack that’s a welcome relief from the swelling strings and tutti blasts so characteristic of space sagas. Bernard Hermann no doubt would approve. Whether Stanley Kubrick would feel as charitably towards Sunshine will remain an eternal mystery.
By now, you’ve probably heard something aboutCloverfield. Whether it was the original trailer that made the insufferable, shudder-inducing experience known as Transformers seem slightly less torturous, the movie proper that opened last Friday, or simple word-of-mouth from somebody who went to see it, you know about Cloverfield somehow. So here’s the buck-o-five on the movie: it’s a horror/thriller that has been described as “Godzilla meets The Blair Witch Project.” It also happens to be the best film of its genre I’ve seen… ever, and quite possibly the most satisfying thing I’ve seen in a movie theater since 2006’s Children of Men. And I don’t even like horror movies.
So here’s the deal: Rob’s moving to Japan to tackle a new career. Or a promotion. I forget. It doesn’t really matter. Point is, Rob’s leaving, and his friends throw him a going-away party. Jason, Rob’s brother, wants to capture the sentiments of Rob’s closest friends on film, a task that he rather quickly places somewhat-dimwitted (and appropriately named) Hud in charge of. During the party, Rob’s once-flame Beth shows up with another guy. Things don’t turn out so well, Beth leaves early, and the atmosphere grows tense. That’s when a tremor rocks the apartment building. The gang sees a news report about a possible attack on Manhattan, they go to the roof to see what’s happening, and a distant explosion sends flaming rubble their way. One thing leads to another, and it is soon apparent that some sort of mammoth creature is, along with giant parasites that fell off its back, ripping the city to shreds. Rob learns, over his cell phone, that Beth is in trouble, and he resolves to go deeper into the crumbling city to save her.
J.J. Abrams and Bad Robot could have gone the Spielberg route, flowering up every character to ridiculous proportions and answering every little question about what the monster was, why it was so aggressive, where it came from, and so on ad infinitum. And if you’re one of those people who goes to movies only to see glorified flashing light shows, getting things spelled out for you word-for-word, ala Minority Report or War of the Worlds, is probably your cup of tea. But if you’re the sort who doesn’t like to have his intelligence repeatedly insulted, you’ve likely gained an appreciation for films that don’t give you all of the answers and leave you with something to ponder. Cloverfield is just that. You will not discover the monster’s origin. You will not see Rob Hawkins defeat the beast. You’ll have questions during the movie, and a good number of them will not be answered.
That is not to say that Cloverfield is an interpretive movie. Far from it; it is almost purely escapist. And that suits its unpretentious nature just fine. Characters are not spewing out lines for English professors to create case studies out of. The characters are real people reeking of genuine normalcy, caught up in a situation so much larger than them that they are easily overwhelmed. That, and because of how it is filmed, is why Cloverfield evokes feelings of empathetic horror, a claim that far too few so-called “horror” movies can accurately make.
You may think that eighty-four minutes is not enough time for a modern movie of this magnitude, but it ends up being just right. Some movies are guilty of being too short, others too long, but my inner Goldilocks was rather pleased. It is quite clear from the get-go that Cloverfield is a single story, and it doesn’t need eleventy billion plotlines and POVs to get the job done. The movie’s length is perfect, and its ending is utter cinematic brilliance; simple, yet magnificently profound.
If you go looking for Cloverfield’s cinematic score on CD, I doubt you’ll find it, because other than some modest music well into the closing credits, there is no musical score. I love music, don’t get me wrong, but Cloverfield doesn’t need it, and in fact its absence adds further to the film’s realism.
No movie is perfect, of course. There are a few minor plot irregularities present, not the least of which is the camera’s rather amazing durability. That durability on occasion extends to a couple of characters, as they survive what should otherwise have been rather lethal ordeals. I have heard complaints of headaches and motion sickness from moviegoers, and admittedly Cloverfield does suffer bouts of “shaky cam” (though I managed to follow along just fine). But those are minor nitpicks at best, and don’t heavily detract from what is otherwise an exceptional movie.
I don’t know what 2008 has in store for me as far as review titles go, but all are going to be hard-pressed to overcome Cloverfield. It’s an awesome movie in almost every way possible, expertly paced and masterfully executed. Do not miss out.
This week I’m looking at three titles from Viz’s Shojo Beat line, all of which I like. Woops, these are low-res images… I’ll replace them later.
I’d also like take a moment to explain that I give As to titles I’d recommend to anyone, A- to titles I’d recommend to almost anyone, and the rare A+ is for books I suggest you buy immediately, no questions asked.
Honey and Clover, Vol. 1
by Chica Umino
Viz, 200 pp.
Rating: Older Teens
Before Honey and Clover I didn’t know shojo titles could have male protagonists. H&C centers around three college dormmates at an art school: Takemoto, the white-haired directionless sophomore; Morita, a fifth-year senior brunette with a mysterious job and odd personal habits; and heartbreaker senior Mayama who’s in love with his widowed boss. Most of the gang hangs out in Hanamoto-sensei’s office, and the inciting incident is the introduction of Hanamoto’s younger cousin Hagu.
Hagu-chan enters the college as a freshmen, but she’s so short that people mistake her for either a 12-year-old or some kind of leprechaun from Hokkaido (well, Morita thinks so). At 18 Hagu is an accomplished artist with gallery shows, making her a freak at the art school and putting her under a lot of pressure. Fortunately she fits in with Hanamoto’s posse of weirdoes.
When I watched the anime series, I worried Hagu’s small stature and Morita’s obsession with her meant H&C was an otaku title, but my concerns were unwarranted. (Although sometimes I still worry Hagu’s tiny hands are being fetishized.) Morita and Takemoto both fall in love with Hagu on sight, but they’re too naive or dense to realize it - instead a third-person narrator lets us know what’s going on.
I know that a lot of people go into college or adulthood not knowing what they want to do with their lives, and many manga characters have the same directionless attitude, but I find it more inspiring to read about characters who do know what they want.
I was puzzled by Thompson, because the reason I fell in love with H&C was because of Takemoto’s lack of direction in life. Takemoto entered art school because he wanted to do something with his hands. He has no idea what he’ll do when he graduates. It’s Takemoto’s fear of the future in the anime series really captured my heart.
Ceramics major “Ironman” Ayu Yamada kicks her way into the volume at page 110. She’s in love with Mayama, but he doesn’t return her feelings and it’s breaking her heart. I really want to like Yamada because she kicks guys in the head. Her physical strength contrasts with Hagu’s weakness - but Yamada’s path is heartbreak. She cries in half the scenes she’s in (which I’ve been reading in Shojo Beat). I understand college heartbreak, but there’s not one strong woman in H&C (emotionally, and only Yamada has physical strength).
The art style of H&C is incredibly appealing, with fun sketchy lines. There are many comedic moments covering up the deeper dramatic story, and the comedy is drawn well. I love all of the characters, even Mayama’s tragic boss. All of them have unique stories and quirks that make them seem like real people. It really captures the feeling of college, a certain love of meat, and the absolute terror of “What am I going to do for the rest of my life?”
The manga is only 11 volumes, so it seems compact compared to the 36 episodes of anime. Viz is releasing the live action film adaption later this year (I’ll review it soon! I promise!) and there is a live action drama TV series adaptation currently airing in Japan. H&C and Nodame Cantible are giant josei hits in Japan.
Honey and Clover volume 1 (of 11) will be in stores on March 4th. It is currently running in Shojo Beat magazine.
The Sand Chronicles, Vol. 1
By Hinako Ashihara
Viz, 192 pp.
Rating: Older Teens
The Sand Chronicles is shojo that picks you up by the collar and beats the shit out of you just for fun. One minute it’s all flowers and screentone and the next it’s TEAR JERKING MELODRAMA OH SHIT DID THAT JUST HAPPEN!? No wonder it won the Shogakukan Award.
Ann lives a total hick town which has driven her mother to suicide. In her grief, Ann clings to her boyfriend Daigo, wishing desperately that they’ll be together forever. He gives her an hourglass (thus the title). Ann’s estranged father lives in Tokyo, but that story is for a later arc (currently running in Shojo Beat). Ann feels like she’s got nobody but her friends and her boyfriend. She signs up for a summer camp to spend more time with her friends and inevitably twists her ankle while hanging out in the woods alone with a boy who is not her boyfriend (it was bound to happen, Marmalade Boy, Kodocha, Absolute Boyfriend, My Heavenly Hockey Club) - but damned if there’s not a thunderstorm and a cliff and THERE WILL BE BLOOD!! No, literally, this is the only manga I’ve read since High School Girls with a serious discussion of menstruation.
Sand Chronicles knows how to turn the drama up to 11. I find myself reading the next chapter every month because I’m worried about Ann. I’ve got no complaints about the art. Ann and Daigo’s character designs aren’t the most memorable, but Ann’s big eyes were clearly drawn for crying sweet, sweet shojo tears. This is the perfect storm of a shojo title.
Sand Chronicles volume 1 (of 10) is currently available. It is currently running in Shojo Beat magazine.
Fall in Love Like a Comic, Vol. 2
By Chitose Yagami
Viz, 192 pp.
Rating: Older Teens
My review of Fall in Love Like a Comic volume 1 received a lot of comments, leading me to believe this title is pretty popular, perhaps because of the hilarious sample chapter that ran in Shojo Beat. Since the series is only two books long, it will likely find it’s way to the shelves of many shojo fans.
In volume two, Rena and Tomoyo’s relationship is threatened when Rena’s new tutor turns out to be Tomoyo’s [hot, older] ex-girlfriend. This standard romance plotline used to really annoy me - why would an ex be a threat? Do the characters lack confidence in their relationships? Looking back on my own love life and the love lives of some friends, it’s easy to find examples where this actually happens. Just because I’ve never dumped anyone to go back out with my ex… However, I’ve never been jealous of a younger cousin dominating my boyfriend’s time, as it happens later in book.
Volume one made me wonder about the age rating. Older teens? Really? Volume two quickly made me understand the chosen rating as Rena shouts the word “SEX!!!” in large bolded letters about five pages in. Things get steamy but never hot and heavy so it turns out the rating was appropriate. Well played, Viz, well played.
The plot wraps up rather quickly two-thirds of the way through the book. At first I thought the final chapter was some kind of dream sequence, but no, it’s really happening! The ending is over-the-top happy. The final third of the book has an epilogue chapter, an extra story, and a series of pages about how to draw manga which were dense and informative.
The book delivers everything you could really hope for in the second volume of a two volume series - lots of mero mero moments, Tomoyo being a hot guy with a heart of gold, a cute epilogue, and a good solid lesson about making your own manga. The short “Bewildered Princess” falls a bit flat, but otherwise, I’ve got no complaints.
Chitose Yagami has several other titles, all published in Ciao magazine or Ciao Deluxe, none of which have been imported. Most of them have “Kiss” in the title and are 3 volumes or shorter.
Fall in Love Like a Comic volume 2 (of 2) is currently available. A sample chapter ran in Shojo Beat’s September 2007 issue.
Below you’ll find a complete index of anime, book, manga, and movie titles reviewed this year at PopCultureShock. (Titles are alphabetized by category.) For help sorting the wheat from the chaff, check out our end-of-the-year features celebrating the best anime, books, and manga of 2007.
If you discover any broken links, or are directed to the wrong page, please drop us a line so that we can fix it. Thanks!
Welcome to Tranquility V1 TP Wonder Woman: Amazons Attack HC. Art by Pete Woods. Spawn #173 Fantastic Four #552. Written by Dwayne McDuffie. New Warriors #6. Written by Kevin Grevioux. Gold Digger Christmas. By Fred Perry & various. Papyrus: The Revenge of Ramses GN
I love the Honey and Clover manga and anime series, but the movie left me a bit cold. I watched the first episode of the live action drama series, and I have to admit the film is a much better adaptation than the TV show. 
Funky Forest is a collection of loosely-related short films which run the gamut from boring-slice-of-life to hilarious comedy, from science fiction to dance films; a rock and roll classroom gives way to a story about duel comedians in the far future; disturbing Cronenberg-like creatures appear inexplicably in the second half of the film. The central theme of the shorts is sexual in nature: phallic creatures and lonely men fill the 120+ minutes of screen time. This is the most experimental film in the Viz Pictures catalog so far, and not kid-friendly.
The big story this week is 
Distributed by Viz Pictures
Before Honey and Clover I didn’t know shojo titles could have male protagonists. H&C centers around three college dormmates at an art school: Takemoto, the white-haired directionless sophomore; Morita, a fifth-year senior brunette with a mysterious job and odd personal habits; and heartbreaker senior Mayama who’s in love with his widowed boss. Most of the gang hangs out in Hanamoto-sensei’s office, and the inciting incident is the introduction of Hanamoto’s younger cousin Hagu.
The Sand Chronicles is shojo that picks you up by the collar and beats the shit out of you just for fun. One minute it’s all flowers and screentone and the next it’s TEAR JERKING MELODRAMA OH SHIT DID THAT JUST HAPPEN!? No wonder it won the Shogakukan Award.
