Reviews

The Burger & The King is a documentary that suggests that Elvis Presley's true love of his life wasn't actually music--it was food. One can easily find any number of books and documentaries exploring the life of Elvis Presley, but to my knowledge The Burger & The King is the only one that is dedicated to the King's food intake, which is why the film is of course unique and interesting.

It is competently-made, like the majority of BBC made documentaries, and definitely insightful into some of the inner-workings of Elvis' psyche that seem to be rarely touched on elsewhere (don't get the idea that this doc' is really "deep" though, because honestly it isn't... you shouldn't really be expecting it to be either). The documentary even provides recipes for some of Elvis' favorite foods (his favorite sandwich, Fool's Gold, feels like it hardens your arteries just looking at it).

All in all, a unique documentary on Elvis Presley's eating habits and well-worth an hour of practically anyone's time.

While I did not hate or greatly dislike The Pajama Game, watching the movie did feel to me like a tedious chore. Quite simply, I was not entertained (a simple and primary criteria of mine for any musical I watch... I don't have to be entertained by an art-house movie, but I better be by a musical), nor did I feel as though it was a particularly well-made film. I have heard several people (who are fans of musicals) praise The Pajama Game, which is why I was somewhat surprised by the mediocre nature of it. Maybe that is just the problem, as you might very well have to be an enthusiastic and die-hard fan of musicals to be able to overlook the unremarkable quality of The Pajama Game.

I am indifferent when it comes to the genera of musicals, I don't have a bias in their favor (like I do for say film-noir) or against their favor (like I do for say fantasy films). But if I am to enjoy a musical, I notice that more often than not I desire (among a dozen other things) that the film have a solid script. A solid script that contains an interesting story, is told in an entertaining way, includes well-written dialogue, and contains legitimate substance (as opposed to being just a depthless vehicle for song and dance)--and while this is not dogma, it sure helps me feel like I'm still watching a film, and just not people singing and dancing for the sake of singing and dancing.

The Pajama Game's dialogue is unmemorable, the story is uninteresting (that goes for the plight of the pajama factory workers for their potential raise, and the budding romance between the films main characters), and what shallow story there is is told in a way completely devoid of entertainment. But, to me, the biggest crime of all is that the script for The Pajama Game really is a shallow vehicle of a script of scenes strung together merely for song and dance (and in my opinion, mostly mediocre song and dance that can not begin to compare to some other classic musicals).

The cinematography certainly could have been better in The Pajama Game. Primary colors are the main choices in the color palette for the movie (after all, it is a movie that mainly takes place in a factory that makes brightly colored pajamas), but they are never used as richly as they are in other musicals such as Singin' In The Rain, Une Femme Est Une Femme, Parapluies De Cherbourg, or even The Wizard of Oz (which some people define as a musical, myself included as its songs progress the plot, but others merely consider Oz as a "classic family film"). In those movies the constantly present primary colors enthrall the viewer, and are photographed and lit in a manner that creates a bright and vibrant world that seems richer than the actual real world in some ways. In The Pajama Game the cinematographer failed to elicit any such enthrallment from the viewer. They are just colors—-nothing more, nothing less. And while it may seem like I am being nit-picky, if you are making a lighthearted and silly musical with primary colors as the main choices in your color palette, you should make those colors "pop".

In The Pajama Game it would be very easy to accuse the actors of not acting as people, but of acting as "imitations of humans". Sure, it's not realistic for characters to break out into song and dance at the drop of a dime—-but the characters in a musical should at least feel realistic to the viewer at least in some manner. The majority of the characters in the movie have as much realistic believability as the characters that might populate a vintage Hannah-Barbera cartoon. Even Babe feels like an imitation of a spunky factory worker, and Sid the imitation of a stern "by-the-books" factory superintendent.

As for the positive: the one thing I took interest in with The Pajama Game was the duet that Sid has with himself (by means of a tape recorder used for dictation in his office). To my memory I had not seen a musical where a character performs a duet with themselves until I saw this film.

While a lot of people I know who have seen this film enjoy it, I would exert that I feel there are better musicals (such as the ones I referred to while discussing the cinematography of the film several paragraphs above) that you could better spend your film-watching time with.

The Most Terrible Time In My Life is quite simply a real oddity of a film. The film is a hodgepodge of influences (namely Seijun Suzuki and Mickey Spillane), genres (Japanese '60s B-movies, film-noir, and comedy), and ideas. Really, the film should feel like a mess as it shifts on the drop of a dime from trying to appear like a serious noir to being a wacky comedy, but surprisingly it all manages to work.

Kaizo Hayashi, the director, even gets to work in his heavy influence from Seijun Suzuki without it feeling derivative (that right there, you have to admit, is a feat worthy of notice!). It is strange to watch a Japanese movie from 1994 that simultaneously feels like it is a mid-'90s Japanese film and an early '60s B-movie shot by Suzuki on one of his much less abstract and experimental endeavors.

But see, right there is one of the most charming and endearing characteristics of The Most Terrible Time In My Life; that the film feels old and new, original and old-hat, that it acts serious and then suddenly goofy and then back to being serious, that it can be hip and carefree and then gritty and a downer and back again--and all of this throughout the film somehow works.

This film is incredibly entertaining and interesting, and immensely enjoyable (plus the cameo by Jo Shishido *AS* Jo Shishido, who seemingly is not an actor in the world of the movie but instead the long-standing P.I. mentor to the protagonist, is mind blowing to anyone who is a fan of "Cheek's" films or his work with Suzuki). If you can get a hold of this film, you really should, it is well worth your time if you have any interest in film noir/neo-noir, Mike Hammer, Seijun Suzuki, or left-field Japanese cinema.

While you will find The Ghost Ship in The Val Lewton Horror Collection box set, it really has nothing to do with horror. Rather, it is a thriller, and unfortunately a thriller that hasn't aged as well as one might have hoped over the last 65 years.

Nicholas Musuraca, the cinematographer on Val Lewton's best looking films, provides, as usual, some very beautiful and effective manipulation of lighting and shadows within the film. Whenever that "classic Val Lewton atmosphere" is created by Musuraca's craft on screen you will probably remember one of the primary reasons for why you were watching the film in the first place.

Sadly, most of those moments of atmosphere are too few and too far between. Matters of the film's quality are not helped by the poor pacing of the plot, the lack of any sense of suspense, and the characters' absence of depth (as well as interest). Most of the problems with the film could have been remedied if the entire thing took place solely on the ship (without the interruption in the middle of the film--this would have helped the pace and the suspense would feel more claustrophobic), as well as having more emphasis placed upon the cat and mouse game between Merriam and the captain (we could then probably explore the captain's insanity further, place more suspense on the protagonist's potential demise, have more scenes of the captain plotting Merriam's murder and more scenes of Merriam attempting ways to desperately defend himself, as well as allow for more haunting visual atmosphere to be created by Musuraca and Lewton during these scenes, and so on).

If you haven't seen a Val Lewton film yet, I would recommend Cat People (1942) before The Ghost Ship. However, if you are just looking for a good thriller, why not try a classic of the genre like Strangers on a Train (1951).

I have seen this film so many times I have lost count. I remember one time, when I was watching it with some girls who I was hanging out with from this class I was in at the time, we were about a fourth or a third of the way through the film and one of them had to use the bathroom. We paused the film, and then one of them was silent for a bit and then turned to me and said in all sincerity, "This is going to be one of those films where there is my life before and then there is my life after, isn't it?" I knew that I adored the film, but I was never able to verbalize its importance until she said that. Now, that is entirely how I describe the film to people who haven't seen it, and yes, everyone who has seen it that pitch has agreed with me afterwards, this is indeed just that type of movie.

There are people who claim that the movie is exploitative of the handicapped cast, but if that was true then how come the entire cast and their families and friends and co-workers and camp staff fully endorse the movie 100%? The a-holes who think the movie is exploitative believe that the handicapped and mentally challenged individuals in society should be "protected" and that they should be kept out of the public eye where they might possibly be teased (they think that they should just stay in their houses, away from where they can mix with society, and that they shouldn't be allowed to experience life like "normal" people).

See, in How's Your News, they constantly put the handicapped and mentally challenged right in "normal" people's faces in the public. This is where the movie shines because people have to then deal with the handicapped, whether they become uncomfortable, laugh, cry, get depressed, whatever--the point is that they have to deal with the handicapped people that the "normal" people in society would often like to forget even exist.

The handicapped and mentally challenged cast in this film challenge social norms and affect the people's lives that they encounter along their roadtrip. Many people become uncomfortable, some get to re-examine their lives spurred on by the cast's innocent questions, some smile, others are rude, some get angry, and others become utterly confused. But whatever the case, the people in the documentary have to deal with them because they are right in their face, and they have to acknowledge that the handicapped and mentally challenged are people too (and if they don't, honestly they just look like a-holes).

The people who think that the handicapped and mentally challenged should stay "protected" in their houses while being separated from society are the true bigots. Once you see this movie, you will understand, it is hilarious, heartwarming, and well-made--see this film!

NOTE: Yes, the very first time you see it, it is absolutely normal to be uncomfortable for the first 10 to 15 minutes (20 for some, even). But trust me, stick it out because this film will change your life. I can't recommend this film enough.

While every person I know who has seen the movie professed their deep and passionate love for the film, apprehension did come over me as I gazed at the DVD cover and saw, "From the director of BLADE II and HELLBOY" in text placed right above the title. My apprehension was not misplaced, I was bored to tears and became increasingly restless as the movie plodded on. Surely, my time could have been invested more fruitfully elsewhere. Pan's Labyrinth was a waste of my time, and in my opinion a poorly made movie.

It really is odd that Pan's Labyrinth was advertised as a fairy tale (or even as a "fairy tale for adults"). Instead, it is a movie with a girl who is obsessed with fairy tales, but not a "fairy tale". Part of the criteria for fairy tales is that they happen outside of time ("once upon a time"), not actual historical times. As well as that they operate outside of a 100% concrete location (they instead happen in non-existent lands where fantastic things can take place). Pan's Labyrinth happens in 1944 and in Spain. Trust me, it is in no way a fairy tale, look up the definition of fairy tale and you'll see that Pan's Labyrinth has nothing do with them whatsoever.

The directing in Pan's Labyrinth leaves something to be desired, while it is not atrocious, Guillermo Del Toro comes off as lazy, semi-incompetent, and complacent. The 180-degree rule is broken about a handful of times over the course of Pan's Labyrinth seemingly out of laziness. While the rule can be broken by directors, such as it was done by Stanley Kubrick, to purposely disorient the viewer—disorientation, that is never the intent of Pan's Labyrinth (which makes every attempt to effortlessly fuse fantasy and reality together, or so Guillermo Del Toro claimed). Instead when the rule is broken in Pan's Labyrinth, one can only assume it is a mistake made by Guillermo Del Toro. Guillermo Del Toro is unable to breathe life into the characters that populate Pan's Labyrinth; instead though his complacent directing, all of the characters are two-dimensional, unrelatable, and fail to inspire any concern from the viewer.

The editing is annoying in Pan's Labyrinth (at first, only subtly, but as the film progresses, the repeated annoyances become antagonizing). The film is peppered liberally with unnecessary and misplaced dissolves that disrupt the flow of the editing, working against the movie (whenever a dolly-shot is used in Pan's Labyrinth-—you can bet that there will be an unnecessary dissolve somewhere in the length of the dolly-shot... uh, why?). Match cuts made within Pan's Labyrinth feel gimmicky and self-satisfied. One of the best examples is during a montage that repeatedly cuts back between Ofelia lost inside her fantasies and her step-father leading a brigade of horsed soldiers as they ascend a forested hill, match cuts are made as the trunks of trees envelop the frame and become walls that surround Ofelia, and as the camera continues to pan right, the match cut is made again and again (beating the viewer over the head).

The script is dull for the film and the characters within it as well. But not only are the characters in Pan's Labyrinth flat, dull, and unlikable—-the protagonist's intelligence is irksomely inconsistent. Ofelia constantly demonstrates her lack of intelligence (or possession of even an inkling of common sense) over the course of the film, yet conveniently is able to figure out that the character of Mercedes is working with the Spanish resistance (also, Ofelia's sudden knowledge of the existence of resistance fighters in the woods that she only recently arrived in is left unexplained... Seriously, the girl is as dumb as a rock, how did she figure those two things out?).

***START OF POSSIBLE SPOILER***

Something that comes to mind when recollecting on the poor script, is the lack of any motivation for Ofelia eating the forbidden grapes of the Pale Man (instead, she gulps down two grapes knowing full well the warnings of death made by the Faun). Previously in the movie, Ofelia was sent to bed without dinner, but that was several nights previous in the course of the time line within the movie. If only the events were arranged to happen in the same night, Ofelia's greedy impulsiveness would actually make sense—-instead of being motivationally random and merely convenient for there to be a brief scene of tension with the Pale Man chasing Ofelia.

***END OF POSSIBLE SPOILER***

Bottom line: Pan's Labyrinth sucks. If you thought it was a good movie, you desperately need to watch some films of higher quality.

Plague Dogs is about two dogs who escape from a British animal research facility in north-western England. At first they are eager to escape the experiments performed upon them and get to the outside world, but they soon find that it is extremely hard to survive on the outside since they have no familiarity with the wild and their handicaps received from experiments performed upon them make life even harder (because of the drowning experiments performed on Rowf, he is constantly weak and possesses very little energy, and because of the brain experiments performed on Snitter, he has a very poor and misguided grasp of reality and is prone to psychotic episodes, especially when his open head sore begins to "act up").

Plague Dogs, simply, is a very affecting film, and one that I would recommend to almost anyone to seek out (but there are some people who could possibly get bored, and others who would get too depressed by the film). But regardless, I think practically anyone willing should give it a shot (there really aren't many similar films to Plague Dogs, it is a unique film that if you are presented with the option of seeing it, you really should take advantage of that option). I only have two gripes with the film, and they are not large ones:

1) There are a few unbelievable lines spoken by some humans during the film. They are of such an unrealistic and unbelievable nature that they temporarily took me out of the movie. I would go into more detail, but they would spoil several things in the movie, and I don't want to spoil anything about this movie for as I said before, it is excellent and I recommend it.

2) The ending song for the movie is really inappropriate. Luckily, it doesn't start out wildly inappropriate when it begins, so as soon as the characters have stopped talking in the film and you see the credits start to roll--you better either hit stop or mute because the ending song is soon about to kick into cringe-inducing ultra-uppity British gospel music. It feels like they had a clown waltz into the movie saying, "Gee-willikers, kids! That movie was depressing, but now I'm here to lighten the mood!" A really, really poor and awkward choice. They should have just used the song that begins the movie to end the movie as well.

I'm not going to bother describing the plot for the Forbidden Zone (I am assuming that if you are reading this review that you are familiar with this movie on some level), but if you are not familiar with the plot, just read a few of the first paragraphs of the synopsis at Wikipedia and you'll get the idea: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Forbidden_Zone

Many of the films that came from the "Midnight Movies" camp of the '70s to early '80s are often close to unwatchable. But Forbidden Zone is actually pretty decent, especially in comparison. The film is really helped by the soundtrack (if you are a big fan of Oingo Boingo, you should have reason enough to see this film right there), creative art direction, and the nice and crisp black and white cinematography.

Where the film does lose points with me is that it really is a film that is strange for the sake of being strange (and while there is nothing wrong with making something strange--if you make something that is strange for the sake of being strange, the results are rarely favorable). That being said, there really isn't that much substance behind the weirdness in the movie, and I can think of dozens of "strange" and "weird" movies that I would recommend before Forbidden Zone; but still, all in all, Forbidden Zone is a short movie and I was never bored (but then again, I was never enthralled either).

The bottom line is that this is not a great film, it is a decent film. The Oingo Boingo soundtrack is the best thing going for it, but the art direction and cinematography come in a close second. If you were interested in a "strange" or "weird" musical cult-film, I would recommend something like the Talking Head's movie True Stories (1986) or The Billy Nayer Show's movie The American Astronaut (2001) before this film.

NOTE: When the film was originally released it was panned for being seemingly racist. Honestly, the racist imagery used in the film is presented in a post-ironic manner (and I doubt that Danny Elfman or Richard Elfman are actually racist against Jewish and black people). But if racist imagery bothers you and you don't even begin to care about post-irony, then you might just want to skip this movie.

I avoided watching Do The Right Thing for a very long time. I knew that to some the catalyst for the events in the film were essentially the swelling heat and the rising racial tensions. But I also know that if you really wanted to, you could make a case for the catalyst for the tragic events in the movie being the fact that there are no pictures of black people on the wall of the local pizzeria in the movie. Knowing that, that is why I avoided the film for as long as I did. Having watched the film finally, I have to agree, that that really is the catalyst for the events in the movie and it really made me wish I avoided the film for possibly even longer than I did because it just makes the entire movie silly. Let me explain...

Think about it this way: how silly would it be for me to storm the local Thai restaurant near my house (while I crank a boom-box at full-volume like Raheem does in the movie) while exclaiming, "What's with all of these pictures of Bhumibol Adulyadej on the wall? And who are these other Thai people? Ain't no Thai people in this neighborhood: we got black and white people here, and I ain't see none of them on your wall! I put 'much money' into this place!"--It'd be incredibly ludicrous, right? Look, when I've gone into pizzerias, it doesn't matter what the predominate ethnicity might be in that location of said pizzeria, I'm going to expect to see pictures of Italian people on the walls, or cheesy/hokey murals of Rome, and so on. When I eat at a place that serves ethnic food (or at least food with ethnic overtones), I am not going to expect the place to bend and shape to the ethnicity of the neighborhood it's located in or of myself. Why?--Because that would be stupid.

But if I nit-picked on all of the "silliness" of the content within Do The Right Thing, I could be writing for forever. Most people's reviews focus on the content of the film, not the form/craft, so I'm going to make an effort to focus on the latter as much as possible.

Over the film classes I've taken and the books I've read on film, Do The Right Thing has been brought up constantly (and always with high regard). Now actually seeing the movie left me surprised of this, for Do The Right Thing is not a well-made movie. The directing is surprisingly inept, the cinematography is overrated, the acting from the majority of the characters in the film is laughable and unbelievable, the script is flimsy, and the dialogue is utterly groan-worthy.

Speaking of groaning, anytime where there is a scene that they decide to use the incidental music composed for the movie (which is probably about five times during the course of the movie, and often if the scene involves either or both ML and Mother Sister) I dare you to try not to groan. Suddenly the film drastically and abruptly changes from a "slick and hip" time-capsule of 1989 to a full-on laughable amateur high-school-produced melodrama. When the syrupy incidental music kicks in with Branford Marsalis' saxophone, and ML asks, "Is the neighborhood still standing?" To which Mother Sister replies, "We're still standing," with a straight-face--yeah, I think I punched myself in the face.

One of the biggest annoyances with Do The Right Thing are the constant Dutch angles. See, one would commonly employ a Dutch angle if one wanted to suggest tension, and sure there is that in the movie, but often a Dutch angle is used within Do The Right Thing when people are talking calmly and about nothing at all rendering the angle meaningless when it is constantly used. If the constant Dutch angles were meant to suggest alienation (as they are used for in The Third Man), really they were not used well to even suggest that effect (if that was indeed the desire of Spike Lee, and I don't believe it was, I am just blindly groping for explanations). Seriously, the Dutch angles were in such high use I might as well have been watching an episode of the campy 1960s Batman television show.

A lot of people have praised the cinematography in the film; but seriously, check out almost any David Lean film if you want to see good cinematography (especially his criminally under-watched adaptations of Oliver Twist and Great Expectations). Check out Ford's Grapes of Wrath, or any Kubrick or Renoir, and so on. Oh, and yes, almost every film textbook I ever had praised the originality of how Spike Lee used a color palette primarily consisting of reds, yellows and oranges to help communicate the heat. Really? I am confused as to why people act as though Spike Lee was original in doing such a thing. Since technicolor first came about, directors and cinematographers used the same trick to communicate heat or cold, and even before that during the silent-film era, they used to tint the film of certain scenes different colors to suggest heat or cold (or night or day, as well as other things).

I could go on and on, but I have written too much already (IMDB has a 1000 word limit). As I watched the film, my opinion of it steadily declined. But I think when Radio Raheem made his awkward reference to Night of The Hunter--that is when my opinion of the film truly plummeted. I have a rule: Don't remind me of a good movie during your bad movie, because you just make me want to watch that said good movie instead of your piece of steaming crap (example: Kill Bill referencing Bring Me The Head of Alfredo Garcia, Fever Pitch referencing Annie Hall, Cocktail featuring Casablanca, and so on).