Parasite (2019)

Tags

Drama, Foreign, Thriller

We take what we can when a chance is in reach.
‘Tis not a behavior we humans must teach.
We covet and crave and we grasp and we use,
And somehow find ways to ignore and excuse.

And many believe some are worse than the rest,
More prone to wrongdoing, more quick to detest,
And common it is to believe that such foes
Are less than a human, the lowest of lows.

Yet sins such as these are not tied to one class,
One race or one creed or one crowd to harass.
We humans are kindred, for better or worse,
And vice is the same in a world this diverse.
______________________

MPA rating: R (for language, violence, and sensuality)

My mind has been ruminating over Parasite ever since I saw it in the theater three weeks ago, trying to decide what exactly I think about it. After hearing people gush over this obscure Korean film that was becoming increasingly less obscure, I was surprised and curious when it managed to snag a Best Picture nomination. It was the last nominee I saw in the theater this time around, and I liked it well enough. Yet in the days that followed, my opinion of it kept edging higher, its layers of meaning and metaphor being peeled away in my head. And then, lo and behold, it went from dark horse to Best Picture winner at the Oscars, the first non-English-language film to do so!

The Kims are a lower-class family of four struggling financially, doing what they can to make ends meet. When son Ki-woo gets an opportunity to tutor the daughter of the affluent Park family, he jumps at the chance, even though he must lie about his credentials as a university student. Soon, his self-justified fib morphs into an ongoing plot to provide his whole family with jobs in the Park household:  his sister as an art therapist, his father as a chauffeur, and his mother as the housekeeper. Their scheme goes well at first until things begin to unravel as untruths and unkindnesses pile upon each other.

I’ve been trying to pin down why Parasite is so critically beloved, at least in terms of its cinematic style. In some ways, it’s like the Korean equivalent of Jordan Peele’s Get Out, its thriller elements leavened by occasional humor and underscored by a potent social message. But I think the best and most flattering analogy is that it is a mixture of Hitchcock (exploration of human nature’s dark side, methodical direction) and Shakespeare (fits of mania, mistakes leading to disastrous consequences), both critical darlings themselves. Bong Joon-ho made history winning Best Picture, Director, and International Film at the Oscars, and, although a part of me considers it potentially a politically correct choice, I can’t deny that it’s deserving.

With public opinion increasingly turning against the rich, Parasite feels like the right film at the right time to earn its acclaim, and the stark class divide in South Korea also makes its story work best in its Korean setting, making me hesitant about the upcoming American remake. Yet there’s a balancing act at play as well, in which neither the poor Kims nor the wealthy Parks are pigeonholed as good or bad. There are sympathy and blame to go around, deceit and a distinct lack of empathy at work in them both, as well as other characters I won’t spoil. At one point, while reveling in the Parks’ home while they are away, the Kim matriarch declares, “If I had all this, I would be kinder,” yet within minutes, she is offered a choice between harshness and mercy and chooses poorly. From themes of escalating class rage to man’s knack for long-term shortsightedness, the plot is replete with subtlety yet remains entertaining as it embodies the saying, “Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.”

Typically, I know my own opinion of a film by the time it ends or within a day or two if it bears rumination, so it’s a rare thing when my opinion continually goes up for reasons unknown. I still consider 1917 to be a more technically impressive film that I enjoyed more (and Sam Mendes definitely should have won Best Director IMO), but, despite my mild disappointment when Parasite won Best Picture, I’m okay with its win. I’m still not a huge fan of its violent climax, but I can’t help but admire Bong Joon-ho’s cinematic craft, from the brilliant bewilderment of its central twist to the setting and composition of the Park home, which deserves a place among notable houses in film.

Parasite is proof of the director’s memorable line from his Golden Globe acceptance speech: “Once you overcome the one-inch-tall barrier of subtitles, you will be introduced to so many more amazing films.” Even if it’s not destined to be a personal favorite of mine, this is not just a quality Korean import but a quality film, period. For me at least, Parasite attaches itself too strongly to ignore.

Best line: (Kim Ki-taek, the father, referring to the Parks) “They are rich but still nice.” (Kim Chung-sook, the mother) “They are nice because they are rich.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up (though it comes closer to List-Worthy than I expected)

 

© 2020 S.G. Liput
662 Followers and Counting

 

Under the Shadow (2016)

Tags

Foreign, Horror, Thriller

The night is black,
A bleak throwback
To when the world was without shape.
A shadow shifts,
The darkness drifts
And snares your eye with no escape.

You crane your neck
To merely check
That all is well outside your bed.
And pray no face
Or graver case
Will give you reason for your dread.
________________

MPAA rating: PG-13

I’m not really into horror generally, but it’s become something of a tradition for me to watch a scary movie alone at night, just to review it for Halloween. Like The Conjuring, The Babadook, and Lights Out in years past, I decided to check out an acclaimed creepfest that focuses more on atmospheric tension rather than gross-out gore. This time, though, I went outside the English-speaking world to watch Under the Shadow, a Persian-language horror (with a 99% on Rotten Tomatoes) set in 1980s Tehran.

Of course, 1980s Tehran wasn’t the best place to be, especially during the increasingly frequent bombings of the Iran-Iraq War. It’s already a tense setting, as the inhabitants of an apartment building must head downstairs into the basement at the sound of bomb sirens, much to the chagrin of mother Shideh (Narges Rashidi) and her daughter Dorsa (Avin Manshadi). Disgruntled by her country’s rigid decrees keeping her from becoming a doctor, Shideh is further unsettled when her husband is sent off to war, and as strange events start to occur late at night, she wonders if there is indeed something haunting her family.

In many ways, Under the Shadow is exactly the kind of horror movie I like, with a creeping dread serving as the main source of fear, knowing that something could happen at any moment and jumping out of your skin when it occasionally does. There’s zero blood on display, and it doesn’t need it. While it taps into the mythology of malevolent air spirits or djinns, it’s surprising how well the frights work when they stem from what is essentially the most minimalist ghost, a floating sheet (technically a chador, a Persian women’s cloak). The uncanny fear conjured by its sudden appearances is potent stuff.

However, there’s nothing especially notable about the story itself, aside from its unique cultural setting, which is itself a danger, since Shideh can be punished for even fleeing her home without a head covering. Yet the plot isn’t too far from that of The Amityville Horror, and the mother/child dynamic, while showing growth, has been done with better closure elsewhere. Even so, Under the Shadow provided exactly what I look for in a scary movie, while excluding what I avoid in the genre. Well-acted with a slow-burn anxiety, it’s an excellent addition to my Halloween reserve, even if it’s made me look over my shoulder more often than before.

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
652 Followers and Counting

 

Chicken with Plums (2011)

Tags

Drama, Fantasy, Foreign, Romance

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a mournful elegy about the physical rather than the abstract. Thus, I focused on the everyday grief that doesn’t always make itself visible.)

I grieve every day but don’t show it.
None see it, of course, but I do.
No moistened eyelashes,
No sackcloth and ashes,
It’s deeper and yet no less true.

I grieve in the taste of the chicken
That never tastes quite like it did
When Mother would heighten
My senses and brighten
My day with the lift of a lid.

I grieve at the sound of the classics,
The ones that my father proclaimed
Were better by far
Than the modern songs are,
To which I agreed or was shamed.

I grieve at the touch of an afghan,
Hand-knitted with love in each thread.
Its knots and defects
Made the knitter perplexed,
But now they are precious instead.

I grieve where the world in its hurry
Has left things of value behind.
Don’t doubt I’m sincere
If I don’t shed a tear;
They moisten my heart and my mind.
___________________

MPAA rating: PG-13

It was three years ago this very month that I reviewed Marjane Satrapi’s animated drama Persepolis as part of NaPoWriMo. That film was such a refreshingly unique experience that I knew I had to check out her next film, which, like Persepolis, was also based off her own graphic novel. Chicken with Plums may not be animated, but its similarity of style is equally praiseworthy, just on a far less consistent level than its predecessor.

Told in French and set in 1950s Iran, Chicken with Plums is the story of a man who decides to die. After his critical wife (Maria de Medeiros) smashes his beloved violin, the famed concert pianist Nasser-Ali (Mathieu Amalric) loses his will to live, lying in bed awaiting death and dreaming of the past and future. The narrative is far from linear, interspersed with subjective thoughts of how his children will grow up, memories of his success, and bizarre fantasies (hugging a giant pair of breasts, for example). It’s a weird mix as the tone swings wildly from obnoxious slapstick to pensive reminiscences, and not all of it works.

However, what does work is outstanding, at least on a visual level. The settings and overall aesthetic have the dated, magical aura of yesteryear, with a carefully crafted artistry that I could compare to that of Wes Anderson if he had half the idiosyncrasies. Satrapi’s vision of 1950s Iran oddly has the look and feel of Europe, reminding us how western-leaning the nation was before the Revolution, as detailed in Persepolis. And the acting is certainly on point, with Amalric of The Diving Bell and the Butterfly fame once more proving his thespian skill.

I wasn’t quite sure what to make of Chicken with Plums up until the ending, where the story takes a sublimely bittersweet turn that is crushing in its emotional resonance. It’s a rare and beautiful melancholy replete with the story’s themes of music, heartache, and loss; it may not quite fit with many parts of the film but still ended it on a high note of poignancy.

Best line:  (Nasser-Ali’s music teacher, speaking of his initial music) “Sounds come out. But it is empty. It is barren. It is nothing. Life is a breath; life is a sigh. It is this sigh that you must seize.”

 

Rank: Honorable Mention

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
626 Followers and Counting

 

I Am Dragon (2015)

Tags

Drama, Fantasy, Foreign, Romance

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was to present “a scene from an unusual point of view.” Thus, I took the fairy tale terror of a dragon carrying off a young maiden and provided the dragon’s angle.)

I am the dragon, the lizard of lore,
So hated and feared by mankind.
From the sky do I hunt,
And I take what I want
From the men who wince under my roar.
From the day that I hatched,
I’ve had power unmatched,
A monster by nature designed.

Now in my talons, I carry a girl,
Flown higher than humans would dare.
I made my attack
With the thought of a snack
And escaped with my prize in a whirl.
Her kin now must mourn,
For their cold-blooded thorn
Has taken her back to his lair.

Gladly, I’d deem her my prey to devour,
As dragons by nature must do,
And yet in her face
Is a vestige, a trace
Of a feeling confronting my power.
No man is my match,
But this woman I catch
Offers something I cannot subdue.
_______________________

MPAA rating: Not Rated (could be PG, maybe more PG-13)

It’s rare that a film feels like a fairy tale, not just a Hollywood version of one but an original fairy tale with its roots firmly planted in romance and the fantasy culture of a nation. In the case of I Am Dragon (or He’s a Dragon), that nation is Russia. Based on the Russian novel The Ritual, the result is a film that tows the line between epic and sappy but is beautifully mounted and appealingly dignified compared with what I imagine a Hollywood version might look like.

A prologue explains how a dragon once terrorized a medieval village, carrying away the innocent maidens offered to him as sacrifices until the day a hero slew the beast. Fast forward then to the arranged wedding of free-spirited Princess Miroslava (Maria Poezzhaeva), or Mira, who is none too thrilled with her appointed husband. In a case of unwise history-rebranding, someone thought it would be a good idea to use the old dragon-summoning song during the ceremony, and everyone is shocked when the dragon reappears to carry Mira away. Mira soon awakens on the dragon’s remote island lair, where a handsome young man she names Arman (Matvey Lykov) proves to be a charming but conflicted host.

I won’t say any “spoilers” outright, but as you can probably surmise from my description, this is like a Russian version of Beauty and the Beast, with some very clear echoes to the Disney version of events. However, with a dragon taking the place of the Beast and an almost Game of Thrones-style aesthetic, it’s a successful variation of the familiar tale, which is also leagues better than Disney’s cringe-worthy live-action version.

As for the romance, there’s certainly chemistry between Mira and Arman, the former headstrong and adventurous, the latter self-loathing and in need of love. The island setting, though, along with Arman’s perpetually shirtless self does make the romantic scenes feel like something out of a Harlequin novel, albeit one with surprisingly grand production values, atmospheric music, and impressive CGI. (I even included the above image from this film in the top right picture of my fantasy banner.)

It really depends on your capacity for potentially mawkish love stories, but for me, I Am Dragon had enough high fantasy to outweigh the few corny moments, and the romance was still engaging and carried weight while thankfully keeping things PG for the most part. I’m glad to have stumbled upon this admirable fantasy, which makes me think that little-known Russian cinema can hold its own against Hollywood’s more publicized output.

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
626 Followers and Counting

 

Psychokinesis (2018)

Tags

Action, Comedy, Drama, Foreign, Superhero

A hero isn’t born, you know,
With all he needs to earn that rank.
All roles are blank
Until they grow.

He may have strength to break a chain
Or speed to outrun any train
Or powers to abolish pain
With snap of finger or of brain,
The likes of which man can’t contain.
But all of that would be in vain
If he viewed others with disdain.

It’s finding one worth fighting for
That makes a hero from a blank.
___________________

Rating: TV-MA (with several beatings, the content is much more PG-13, but there are a few F words in the English subtitles)

It took me longer than everyone else to jump onto the bandwagon praising Yeon Sang-ho’s South Korean zombie hit Train to Busan. One advantage to waiting was that I didn’t have to wait too long for his next live-action feature, this time tackling the superhero genre. Though not on the level of his earlier film, Psychokinesis is an enjoyable counterpoint to the big-budget Marvel movies to which we’ve become so accustomed, a decidedly smaller-scale adventure that still delivers the goods.

The film starts out a little confusingly, segueing from an advertisement about successful young restaurateur Shin Roo-mi (Shim Eun-kyung) to a night attack on her restaurant by a group of workmen, who try to evict her and accidentally kill her mother. Soon after, we meet her absentee father Seok-heon (Ryu Seung-ryong), an oafish security guard who happens to drink from a fountain right as it’s contaminated with energy from a meteorite and discovers he has telekinetic powers. Just reading back those two sentences makes this film sound really bizarre, and maybe it is at the start, but I’m glad I gave it a chance because it somehow does work by the end. After hearing of his ex-wife’s death, Seok-heon decides to use his power to reignite his relationship with the daughter who hates him and protect her from the villainous corporate developers trying to remove her and the other tenants who refuse to leave their shops.

Like Train to Busan, Psychokinesis is just as concerned with its human characters as its genre conventions. At first, Seok-heon is hardly the type to stick up for others and tries to dissuade Roo-mi from joining the rebellious shopkeepers. Much as the inconsiderate father in Train to Busan had his conscience pricked, Seok-heon ends up second-guessing his own selfishness and aiding them with his psychic abilities. Both Ryu and Shim are quite good as an estranged father and daughter (they voiced similar estranged roles in Yeon’s previous film Seoul Station as well), and those playing the villains are gleefully evil, especially Jung Yu-mi (the pregnant woman in Train to Busan) as a beautiful, power-crazed mastermind.

As for the superhero side of things, the effects are actually very well done, and their impact is gradually built up as Seok-heon progresses from floating lighters and ties to throwing bad guys around to almost flying. It clearly takes immense concentration for him, and his mental straining often verges on comedic. With some over-the-top reactions and simplistic motives, the film knows when to chuckle at itself and when to be serious, bolstered further by some genuinely cool superhero moments.

Psychokinesis may not be quite on the technical level of Marvel’s offerings, but with its Korean setting and surprisingly small body count, it’s a refreshingly low-profile member of an increasingly crowded genre. It’s also a sign that Yeon Sang-ho is a director worth keeping an eye on for empathetic family dynamics and quality genre fare.

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
579 Followers and Counting

 

Mojin: The Lost Legend (2015)

Tags

Action, Comedy, Drama, Fantasy, Foreign, Horror, Mystery, Thriller

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a poem inspired by our choice of tarot cards, whether the image on it or the symbolism behind it. I went with the Moon, which has some personification and mentions imagination, light, and the unknown.)

 

Where we’ve wandered, none can trace,
For none now live who knew this place.
The darkness creeps from stone to stone
And makes us feel we’re not alone.
Then, from above, the moon appears,
Perhaps to soothe our growing fears.

She peers below through open cave
At we who thought ourselves so brave
And lends us light to glance about
In search of some departure route.
Yet what she shows us haunts our dreams,
And only she can hear our screams.
____________________

MPAA rating: Not Rated (PG-13 content, though the profanity in the subtitles can get strong)

At least one good thing came out of my watching the utter waste of time that was The Assassin: I saw a trailer for Mojin: The Lost Legend and was intrigued enough to seek out this rather fun Chinese adventure movie. Apparently based on a Chinese book series, this tale of three grave robbers may have its weaknesses, but it’s also evidence of the blockbuster action and visual merit that Chinese cinema has to offer.

Hu Bayi (Chen Kun), his temperamental girlfriend Shirley (Shu Qi), and his reckless longtime friend Wang (Huang Bo) were all once Mojin, official treasure seekers and tomb raiders (Lara wasn’t available), but have since fallen into disgrace. Fed up with their washed-up lives in America, Wang is approached by a wealthy patron to locate an ancient Mongolian tomb. Compelled by a personal connection from his past, Wang accepts, dragging Hu Bayi and Shirley back into the dangerous business of booby traps, double-crossing villains, and supernatural(?) threats.

While the acting is all serviceable and sometimes quite good (the heroes are better than the villains), Mojin: The Lost Legend is most interesting as an example of how the Chinese do an Indiana Jones-style adventure. It takes a little while to get into tomb-raiding mode, but once it does, the pace stays brisk, and the set designs are impressive and elaborate, like the Moria of the Orient mixed with the Temple of Doom.  Anyone who enjoyed The Mummy or National Treasure should also find much to enjoy, from the playful banter to the horror elements of a particularly thrilling flashback to the way Chinese history and myth are used as clues and solutions along the way, not that I understood all of it.

While it does mix a lot of aspects of adventure films I love, it is hard not to view those ingredients as copied or borrowed, even if there’s originality in how they are combined. Likewise, the special effects are one of the film’s strengths, yet there are moments that overuse slow motion and CGI to the point of being overblown and almost laughable, especially during the climax. Plus, the whole thing is a little too long for its own good. Yet it’s still a highly visual treasure hunt that even manages to work in some deeper emotions and themes of letting go of past tragedy. Flawed but fun, Mojin: The Lost Legend is an entertaining ride for those curious to see China’s take on their own National Treasure.

 

Rank: Honorable Mention

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
565 Followers and Counting

 

In This Corner of the World (2016)

Tags

Animation, Anime, Drama, Foreign, History, Romance, War

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a hopeful elegy, so I wrote mine about the mourning of a way of life.)

 

What’s almost as sad as a person’s death
Is the death of the way that they lived.

They once woke up, knowing what their day
Would likely hold,
And they’d watch unfold
A normal we’d say
Was strange and old,
But they took pride
And personified
A life that bloomed till the world went cold.

Disasters sudden or a cancer slow
Or new breakthroughs
Would cause them to lose
What was status quo.
They could not refuse,
For who can tell
A dead bloom, “Get well,”
When its winter’s come and it’s paid its dues?

But people live on, like roots that remain
For new blooms to rise
Once the former dies
And forgets the pain
Of its sad demise.
Our ways of life fade
Daily and are remade.
Remember that grief is short-lived for the wise.
___________________

MPAA rating: PG-13

And the number of award-worthy animated films of 2016 just keeps on growing. When I heard that a crowdfunded project called In This Corner of the World had beaten out Your Name and A Silent Voice for Japan’s Best Animated Feature award, I rolled my eyes that anything could top those two emotional hits. I still would have preferred one of them to win, but I can now at least see why In This Corner of the World would deserve to win. (It’s also further proof that the American Academy can’t seem to recognize an award-worthy animation if it hails from another country.)

Set before, during, and after the Hiroshima bombing of August 6, 1945, this Japanese period drama has a slice-of-life charm and simplicity that endures the ever-looming shadow of death. In many ways, it is reminiscent of Grave of the Fireflies (a painful favorite of mine), yet while that film is essentially grief and desperation from start to finish, In This Corner of the World uses its long runtime to show the daily life of its characters and how the approaching war changed that way of life for the sake of survival.

It begins with the childhood of Suzu Urano, an often absent-minded artist who grows up in an idyllic seaside town close to Hiroshima. After receiving an offer of marriage from a man she doesn’t know, she hesitantly leaves her own family to marry into the Hojo family in Kure, a Navy dockyard about an hour away by train. There is a wealth of humorous vignettes as Suzu adjusts to her new surrounding and family members, including a short-tempered sister-in-law and her daughter, and many aspects of their daily life are steeped in Japanese culture, from the fashioning of kimonos and later pants to the preparation of traditional field-to-table meals, which require resourcefulness once wartime rationing is implemented. From amusing asides and sweet romantic moments, the tone gets more and more serious and even dire as the war gets closer, the bombing raids become more frequent, and we the audience wait for the inevitable bomb to drop, wondering how it will affect Suzu and her loved ones.

The abrupt editing of all those vignettes does contribute to a sometimes unfocused storyline that puts certain details in doubt, and a few forays into Suzu’s imagination left me confused as to whether surrounding scenes were supposed to be real or not. Yet such negatives don’t detract too much from the humane power of the whole. Perceptive details and lovely snapshots abound, notably a post-war scene where the town’s lamps are uncovered (no longer in fear of air raids) and one by one shine into the night. The animation is not your typical anime style, with more of a gentle, hand-drawn impressionism that can be reminiscent of either a comic strip or a museum piece, depending on the tone of the scene. It’s surprisingly effective in its consistency depicting both Suzu’s carefree early life and the grief-stricken toll of war, and the filmmakers put great and laudable care into re-creating the pre-bomb city of Hiroshima accurately.

Once again, I’m torn on how to rank what is clearly a great film, trying to judge my personal opinion of it. It’s absolutely worthy of Japan’s top animation prize, and I can see why they would opt for the more historically significant choice, even over the box-office juggernaut that was Your Name. Despite its winsome animation and gradually developed poignancy, it didn’t bring me close to tears like Your Name or A Silent Voice or Grave of the Fireflies, which matters to me as a way of measuring the emotional impact. Even so, I feel like I’m growing fonder of this film the more I think about it. Perhaps its ultimate ranking is a wait-and-see. It requires some patience, but I highly recommend In This Corner of the World for its touching civilian-level view of World War II.

Best line: (Suzu, comparing her current life to a dream) “I don’t want to wake up because I’m happy to be who I am today.”   (Shusaku, her husband) “I see. The past and the paths we did not choose, they’re like a dream.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up (for now)

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
564 Followers and Counting

 

April and the Extraordinary World (2015)

Tags

Action, Animation, Family, Fantasy, Foreign, Mystery, Sci-fi

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was to write about how one of a list of impossible things could actually happen, so I thought of a certain highly imaginative film.)

 

“Pigs can’t fly,”
They said. “Of course,
And cats can’t join
The labor force.”

“Clocks can’t chime
Thirteen,” they vowed,
“Nor rewind time.
That’s not allowed.”

But some will hear
Such sober laws,
And ask with thought,
“Why not?” because

The present world
They recognize
Is changing more
Before their eyes.

If they dislike
Such rules, they dream
Worlds where clocks strike
Thirteen, where steam

Propels machines,
Where pigs can fly,
Where magic beans
Grow greens so high,

Where men can grow
Beyond their flaws.
Imagination
Knows no laws.
___________________

MPAA rating: PG

I love animation, and I love discovering hidden gems that remind me why I love animation. April and the Extraordinary World is a delightful case in point. At a time when the U.S. and Japan seem to rule the animation industry, it’s also an important reminder that Europe has no shortage of talent and is just as likely to churn out an instant classic for those willing to search for it.A French-Belgian-Canadian co-production, April and the Extraordinary World is one of the most imaginative films I’ve seen in a while, broadly rewriting history to create a unique steampunk setting, one in which science and technology couldn’t develop beyond the Steam Age. Vegetation has been decimated by fuel needs, and the air is thick with industrial smoke, while the scientists that could improve things have vanished without a trace. After a fast-paced introduction in which everything is significant, we meet April Franklin (Marion Cotillard in the French version, Angela Galuppo in the English dub) and her brilliant family of fugitive scientists. Due to events best seen rather than described, April grows up alone with only her talking cat Darwin (a product of SCIENCE!), and her chemist’s quest for an immortality serum soon turns into a whirlwind adventure as the French government and a mysterious group with advanced technology vie for the scientific secrets of her family.

Animation allows its creators to fashion worlds limited only by their imagination, but most cartoons are content to imagine small. It’s usually Pixar or Ghibli that brings the medium to its full potential, but so does April and the Extraordinary World, which often feels like something one of those two powerhouses would have conceived. Where else are you going to see giant cable cars that run from Paris to Berlin or a helicopter plane escaping an underwater prison? The animation has the distinctive look of a European comic (apparently based on the work of French comic artist Jacques Tardi), and although it seems like it would take some getting used to, it actually flows quite nicely, with plenty of clever detail in the settings and backgrounds. It has strong characters to boot, from resourceful April herself to her quick-witted grandfather, though, as a cat lover, my favorite has to be the talking cat Darwin (Tony Hale in the dub, which also includes Paul Giamatti, J.K. Simmons, and Susan Sarandon).While the imagination is impressive, I could still recognize prior influences for April, most notably 2004’s Steamboy, another steampunk adventure featuring a young protagonist caught in the middle of a scientific power struggle with a similarly explosive ending. Plus, it’s hard to avoid comparisons to Ghibli when there’s an actual house atop mechanized legs á la Howl’s Moving Castle or a polluted atmosphere contrasted with a clean underground biome á la Nausicaä. You might also pick up on traces of Atlas Shrugged and Tomorrowland, though the latter was released the same year as this film. Regardless, April and the Extraordinary World brings all these disparate elements together into a thrilling package that’s better than most of the films I just mentioned.

With a complex and fast-paced storyline and a number of off-screen deaths, it does feel more intelligent and mature than your typical American cartoon (not to mention the detail put into Darwin’s backside), but there’s nothing to make it un-kid-friendly either. By the surprisingly satisfying end, I was just happy to have stumbled upon such an underrated gem, one that no fan of animation should miss.

 

Rank: List-Worthy

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
563 Followers and Counting

 

 

The Last Days (2013)

Tags

Disaster, Drama, Foreign, Sci-fi, Thriller

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a memorable family anecdote. Instead of some specific story, I incorporated a few into a societal critique.)

There’s so much that we used to do
When we would go outside.

The sun would bake us at the beach
And leave us peeling for a week,
And kites would soar far out of reach
Until we practiced our technique.
We’d grumble as we walked the dog
And stumbled through the morning fog.
There’s so much we would take in stride
When we would go outside.

The mountain trails would call our name
And leave us awed and insect-bitten.
At the park, we’d choose our game,
Get stuck in trees we thought we’d fit in,
Find we’re lost beyond belief,
Then find our way with sighed relief.
There’s so much that we dared and tried
When we would go outside.

Interiors are now default,
The “Great Outdoors” a memory,
And from our comfort-ridden vault,
A screen eclipses earth and sea.
Although we know without a doubt,
We’re on the inside looking out.
There’s so much that we are denied
When we won’t go outside.
_____________________

MPAA rating: Unrated (should be R due to profanity in the subtitles, maybe PG-13 without that, though there’s still some brief violence and nudity)

When you see deserted city streets littered with abandoned cars and roaming animals, what explanation comes to mind first? These days, it’s probably a zombie apocalypse or maybe an alien invasion, right? The Last Days suggests a much simpler kind of apocalypse, though, one where people don’t dare go outside, but not because of some creature lurking out there; they simply die if they leave shelter.

A Spanish thriller perhaps influenced by the surrealist film The Exterminating Angel, The Last Days (or Los Últimos Días) triggers its apocalypse gradually, with people suddenly contracting severe agoraphobia or fear of open spaces. Walking outside provokes a deadly seizure, so people end up stranded in whatever building they happen to be in at the time. Some viewers may have trouble taking such an epidemic seriously, but it’s revealed gradually through flashbacks and treated with dead seriousness and great realism. In the case of Marc (Quim Gutiérrez), he was at work when it hit and has spent the last three months trapped inside his Barcelona office building, taking turns with his coworkers to dig a tunnel to the subway. When they finally reach this chance to travel to other parts of the city, he sets out in search of his girlfriend Julia (Marta Etura), grudgingly aided by corporate firing specialist Enrique (José Coronado).

The Last Days works well on several levels: as a slow but compelling journey through end-of-the-world encounters, as a grim but endearing buddy movie, and as an outlet for subtle social themes. Of course, the apocalyptic settings are the biggest focus, but it felt unique to have the danger come not from some monster but from other people, some of whom band together to support each other while others compete violently for limited resources. The relationship between Marc and Enrique is an unlikely pairing based on where they started before the disaster, but I liked the way they both relate to each other’s goals and fears, helping each other along the way. The social message I mentioned may come off as obvious in some ways, with people’s fear of leaving their homes taken to an extreme, but there are other understated themes broached, such as the concern of bringing children into a world of doubt and uncertainty.

I entertained ranking The Last Days as a List Runner-Up, but the ending really put it over the top. For a film with so much depressing atmosphere and tragedy, it ends on a surprisingly uplifting note that in some ways felt like the kind of ending Passengers should have had if it had tried harder. I was also impressed by the quality acting and production values and particularly by one long tracking shot through a scene of chaos. (Have I mentioned I love those kinds of scenes?) Don’t expect a lot of action, but if you can buy into its uniquely subdued form of disaster, The Last Days has much good to offer.

 

Rank: List-Worthy

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
559 Followers and Counting

 

Bad Lucky Goat (2017)

Tags

Comedy, Drama, Foreign

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a haibun, a Japanese combination of prose and haiku. Instead of focusing on my unremarkable current environment, as the prompt suggested, I thought I’d try the Caribbean setting of this offbeat film.)

 

The ocean exhales the tide as if to cover every island,
Only to breathe back in lest its favorite peaks be lost.
Life goes on, trusting
That the sea will catch his breath.
Do islands hold theirs?
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MPAA rating: Not Rated (PG-13 or maybe even PG)

Another selection from last year’s South by Southwest, Bad Lucky Goat might be best described as Adventures in Babysitting, island-style. Except that instead of babysitting kids, it’s a goat’s corpse. Doesn’t that sound like fun? What’s also unusual about this Colombian movie is that there’s plenty of English but you absolutely will need subtitles, because all the characters speak in such a thick Caribbean patois dialect that it’s hard to believe they can understand each other.

The ones doing the goatsitting are brother and sister Corn (Honlenny Huffington) and Rita (Kiara Howard), who are clearly the type of siblings who don’t get along. While on an errand for their parents, Rita accidentally runs over a goat, and they are faced with covering up both the truck repair and the body disposal. I couldn’t help but be reminded of Adventures in Babysitting as they try to gather money to pay off the mechanic and even face the threat of kidnapping. Yet, there’s more realism and exotic charm than outright comedy, and it certainly captures a poor but unique way of life, one where cock fights are still popular and a troupe of shirtless musicians make music with improvised instruments and random objects while chest-deep in a bayou.

Occasionally, it got old watching Corn and Rita argue almost the entire time, but their eventual reconciliation felt genuine in spite of their sibling quarrels. Unless you actively love goats, they’re also sympathetic enough to hope they resolve their ever worsening problems, though Rita’s pilfering of a church collection plate lost a lot of my sympathy.

I don’t know that I’d ever seek it out again, but Bad Lucky Goat was a singularly quirky film with a likably meandering plot, some Rastafarian superstition, and a distinctive island flavor. In addition to the upbeat reggae soundtrack (much of it courtesy of Robinson and the Lazy Hill Band), the direction from film school graduate Samir Oliveros is colorful and polished with a few nice tracking shots I wouldn’t expect from a low-budget film funded as a Kickstarter project. It’s a laid-back little movie that’s only 76 minutes long, well worth a look if you’re in the mood for something different from the usual Hollywood fare.

 

Rank: Honorable Mention

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
554 Followers and Counting