Film Review: ‘Ip Man’

Either through imitation or sheer innovation, Hong Kong cinema matures by the minute. At the start of the 20th century it was little more than an extension of the budding Chinese opera scene. By the time the Sino-Japanese War hit, the industry had changed into a medium for unification and nationalism. At the time, regionalism and local dialects kept division on the Chinese mainland. Yet early talkies brought Mandarin and Cantonese as the dominant languages and helped unify regional rivalries during the Japanese invasion. The language division existed through the CPC’s victory in 1949 and early martial arts films (such as the Wong Fei Hung series) began to take hold. By the 1980s, the cult status of the film in the West was gone – popularized by Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan – and the industry commanded respect worldwide.

IP Man,then, can feel like a tribute to the evolution of the industry. Taking place before and during the Sino-Japanese War, the film chronicles the story of Yip Man, the grandmaster of Wing Chun. Starting in provincial Foshan, (Y)Ip Man (played by Donnie Yen) lives with his family and casually teaches his form of martial arts to gracious students and his not-so-humble competitors. When the Japanese invade in 1937, Foshan changes from a beautiful provincial province to an industrial hub for their foreign leaders. Ip Man’s casual lifestyle has to change as well. He can’t rely on the kindness of the town and his status in society anymore. As his family starves and his friends fall victim to the Japanese brutality, he becomes a coolie, shovelling coal. He ends his martial arts practice. A Japanese general comes to Foshan and institutes a new tournament, pitting Chinese martial artists against the Karate of the Japanese Army. Never wanting to use his skill for personal gain, the disappearance of villagers and the general welfare of his family leads him to enter the tournament. This film presents the story of a small town man becoming a national hero.

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Time and Emptiness – A Film Review of Into the Abyss: A Tale of Death, A Tale of Life

In Texas, they execute their “bad” people. The years spent waiting on Death Row are compressed into a grim yet succinct ceremony which is carried out with callous precision and cold order. The journey from holding cell, to gurney, and “into the abyss”- post lethal injection – is completed within minutes. The case file is closed and all those affected try to move on with their lives. In his film Into the Abyss, documentary leader Werner Herzog introduces two inmates, whose crime is used to explore the societal environment of Conroe, Texas, prison life, and capital punishment in America.

Murder is always senseless. But it becomes even more disturbing when murder is committed on a whim, ‘just because’ and over a material possession. The crime in question begins with the coveting of a hot red Camero owned by Sandra Stotler, a middle aged mother living in a gated Texas community.  Michael Perry and Jason Burkett, both aged 19, both raised in a town where camper trailers and dilapidated trucks were the substitutes for warm beds and stable homes, wanted to take the car for a joy ride, so they killed her, her son and his best friend. It’s as simple as that. Using police footage from the crime scenes, and a participatory approach to questioning, Herzog leads Perry and Burkett through informal conversations that reconstruct the events of that night and the days subsequent to the murders. We learn that Perry sits on Death Row, and Burkett, who resides in the same prison as his father, was sentenced to life. Allowing the most poignant moments to occur organically, what emerges from the film’s discourse is the contrast between the thoughtless crime against the focused urgency of Perry’s fight for his right to life. Eight days away from being executed, Perry, disillusioned and appearing unremorseful, thinks he might still have a chance. Herzog objectively presents the case; can robbing a victim’s life actually be compensated through the arranged death of the perpetrator.

The circumstances of the events presented in Into the Abyss, are sad and gut wrenching, yet my emotional response was not peaked during Perry and Burkett’s exposés but rather, when the environment of living in Conroe, Texas was probed. Burkett’s father plays a significant part in describing their impoverished society, his regrets as a father and his profound feeling of failure. Also affecting are the scenes with Stotler’s daughter, who recounts the tragedies that have infected her life, pre and post murder.

Although Into the Abyss makes for a compelling documentary in terms of subject, there is an emerging trend in Herzog’s last two documentary features that has me worried. In his previous works, up until Encounters at the End of the World, equilibrium between form and content was assured. Respectful of his documentary’s focus, the subject matter explored was always coupled with the Herzog magic of awe-inspiring landscapes and photojournalistic sensitivity. What we expect from the Herzog brand is visual and oral poetry within the very real and often dark subject. In Cave of Forgotten Dreams I felt the Herzog charm slipping, and in Into the Abyss it is below the surface. His distinctive narration, which is the quintessential element that forms the rhythm and creates a profound connection to his films, is unfortunately absent.  The emotional content of a Herzogian documentary is still present, yet the empire of inspiring images has been replaced with convention. Perhaps it is his preference for digital format over film format that causes that special something to escape. It may also be that I no longer have the capacity to be amazed by a Herzog documentary. I really hope it’s not the latter. With twenty-five documentary features, nineteen fiction films, and countless shorts under his belt, Herzog is a prolific and masterful filmmaker. His connectedness to the human condition is unparalleled in cinema, and it would be a shame to see such empathy disappear.

- Christina Stimpson

A Film Review – Newlyweds

It happens to the best of us. The slight comment from your partner that leads to a greater argument, or when the forgotten special occasion becomes symbolic of an underlying issue. It would be enough if these catapulting moments stood alone within a couple’s relationship, but when the noses of family members sniff their way in, the thin ice can become even thinner. Ed Burns’ film Newlyweds (2011) is a romantic comedy about family, loyalties, and the moments of debacle that creep into a relationship and affect change. Shot in the traditional Burns style, on the streets of New York, a la cinema vérité, the film’s script, written by Burns himself, is a genuine vignette on the subtleties of marriage that cause it to function or fail when we must navigate the stormy waters between in-laws and lovers. As a companion piece to Sidewalks of New York (2001), Newlyweds uses a similar pseudo-documentary structure, provoking the most honest answers from his seven-character cast.  In tandem with the loosely improvised script, each character benefits from an interview expose, which is weaved into the narrative. This vérité montage not only provides a depth to the characters, it helps to unravel the hypocrisy behind the opposing views they are only comfortable to reveal behind closed doors.

Katie (Catlin Fitzgerald) and Buzzy (Ed Burns) are newlyweds, whose nascent “I Do’s” hold the naïve perspective that a relationship should be a breeze if you, (A) abide by an opposite schedule, and (B) tell each other everything. The logistics of the first part don’t prove to be that hard, as Buzzy works days and Katie works nights. It’s the second option, the honesty policy, which begins to complicate their life when Buzzy’s sister challenges the couple’s territory in her impromptu visit from L.A. Kerry Bishé, plays Linda, a sexy, free-spirited blunderer who quickly becomes the unwanted house guest in their modern Tribeca apartment. Within the first 12 hours of her stay, Linda’s disastrous  presence pushes all the wrong buttons. The tornado trail she leaves behind is enabled by Buzzy’s guilt at being an absentee brother, causing a ripple effect that is felt through all seven characters. Simultaneously, when Katie’s sister Marsha (Marsha Dietlein) voices concern about her 18 year marriage to Max (Max Baker), chaos, misunderstanding and spite move in.

Unquestionably, Newlyweds, is Ed Burns’ best work to date. Although Sidewalks of New York still encompasses the charm of a young director trying to make his mark in the canon of American independent filmmaking, in Newlyweds he has arrived. His camera, usually loyal to the handheld aesthetic, has more constraint this time around, maintaining close-ups in soft focus and exploring the use of natural light to fill the frame. Although elevated from past works in terms of composition, the production of Newlyweds was a throwback to Burns first film The Brothers McMullen. It is romanticized filmmaking. With a starting budget of $9,000,  locations borrowed from friends, a shooting schedule spread over 12 non-consecutive days dependent on the availability of the small cast and crew (who worked during their free time), it is evident that Newlyweds is a labour of love by all who contributed to seeing this poignant film through. Ed Burns enthusiasts will follow him wherever he may go, even if it means cutting out the traditional major theatre distribution method. The only venues where Newlyweds can be accessed are digital, through Video-on-Demand, through iTunes or at edwardburns.net.

This film is important, both due to the respect that it pays to its subject matter, and because the efforts of independent filmmakers who seek to show us truth through representation need to be supported. When I finished Newlyweds, I immediately followed it up with the classic Woody Allen’s Manhattan, which I hadn’t seen in years. And I think that was a wise choice.

- Christina Stimpson

Trailer for ‘Moonrise Kingdom’, Wes Anderson’s new film

Earlier today the trailer for the upcoming Wes Anderson film Moonrise Kingdom was released, and from the looks of it he’s back in fine form. Here’s the description from the Apple Trailers page:

Set on an island off the coast of New England in the summer of 1965, MOONRISE KINGDOM tells the story of two twelve-year-olds who fall in love, make a secret pact, and run away together into the wilderness. As various authorities try to hunt them down, a violent storm is brewing off-shore — and the peaceful island community is turned upside down in more ways than anyone can handle. Bruce Willis plays the local sheriff. Edward Norton is a Khaki Scout troop leader. Bill Murray and Frances McDormand portray the young girl’s parents. The cast also includes Tilda Swinton, Jason Schwartzman, and Jared Gilman and Kara Hayward as the boy and girl.

I’m excited for the movie for a few specific reasons. The first is that it’s co-written with Roman Coppola, who also helped out on the writing duties of Darjeeling Limited along with Jason Schwartzman. I think the two have a really good rapport, and the things the create are pretty great. The cast, as always, is totally top notch. I’m excited for Ed Norton and Tilda Swinton especially. But what I find most interesting is that he set the film in the 1960′s, rather than giving the film that timeless quality which he tends to do. It still looks and feels exactly like a Wes Andersen film, perhaps most like Rushmore, but that’s not a problem to me.

Bobby

A Film Review – The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

Stieg Larsson’s novel The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (originally titled Men Who Hate Women), has been a great success. Met with wild acclaim when the English translation hit shelves in 2008, the cult phenomenon that gathered behind the novel was ferocious. With a well received Swedish film version by director Niels Arden Oplev already in existence since 2009, the question to David Fincher would be why pour creative resources into an American remake a mere few years later? Then I viewed the original, and not only did I understand why an American remake would suffice, but I’m pleased that it was a Fincher production. His latest endeavour accurately captures and fully realizes the crime thriller meat of the novel through his neo-noir auteur aesthetic.

A master architect of thrillers such as Se7en (1995), Fight Club (1999) and Zodiac (2007), Fincher knows the eerie underworld of crime and perversion which is evident in his sleekly composed vision of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Bringing the novel to its high-profile best by mirroring the cold climate of the Swedish setting and the disposition of the film’s main character Lisbeth Salander (Rooney Mara), he presents a fast-paced, sharply edited, impersonal film. Set in the fictional Swedish town of Hedestad, the investigative expertise of Mikael Blomkvist (Daniel Craig) is acquired by Hennrik Vanger (Christopher Plummer) an aging CEO akin to Swedish royalty. Blomkvist is hired to crack a 40 year-old cold case file concerning the inexplicable disappearance of Hennrik’s niece Harriett Vanger. The invitation to remain on the isolated Vanger island commences a type of “locked room mystery” where the events related to Harriet’s disappearance all occur on the Vanger estate. As Blomkvist becomes determined to uncover the “who” and “how” of the disappearance, the whole Vanger family falls under suspicion. The parallel story line of Lisbeth Salander’s cruel persecuted life is weaved together through delicate match cutting and sweeping crane shots fusing the main characters through a common agenda: to catch a killer of women.

Although, the central motivation behind the film is to catch Harriett’s killer, the scenes which tell Lisbeth’s story are the most captivating and unique. Traditional film noir incorporates the sexual persuasion of a femme fatale to weave her way as she thickens the plot. The specific exclusion of the femme fatale in Fincher’s neo-noir rendition points to the equal power relation between the two main characters, as both play a type of vigilante detective.  There are a plethora of American films about dark haired female leads who claim to have a vendetta that they are fighting against. The truth is that female vigilante characters stemming from mainstream Hollywood tend to become sexually objectified before they can execute their plan for revenge.  In Fincher’s The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo the character of Lisbeth Salander is not sexy, nor beautiful or stylish. She is an androgynous, socially anxious ward of the Swedish state and a rape victim living on the fringe of society. Yet complete with flaw and inelegance, women idealize and stand by her, and Fincher remains organic in his depiction of this strong female character. Delivered through a construction of the unappealing, here, Salander is an angered female devoid of conventional sexuality with an acute investigative mind motivated by rancor for all men who take. A rare breed represented in American popular cinema. It’s all about her. Fincher’s Lisbeth Salander is not only the justification of why his remake is more effective and engrossing, it is refreshing to see an “ugly” female luring audiences with her mind and strength.

- Christina Stimpson