Time Destroys All (Irreversible)

A few days ago I watched Gaspar Noe's first film, I Stand Alone, and in the context of talking about that I was talking about Irreversible, which made me want to see the film again, so yesterday I watched the film for the third time. Now, here, I talked about the basics of the film and why I liked it, but on this third viewing I got something a bit different out of it than I did before.

Having seen I Stand Alone, I liked the closure on that story, and the fact that the Butcher, who thought he had it all figured out, ended up in jail, and has his dream of a life with his daughter ruined. I Stand Alone ended on a pretty upnote, and while the audience is disturbed, the Butcher is clearly happy for the first time in the film. So, we begin the film seeing that a happy ending doesn't last, he's now left distraught.

Having seen the film a few times, I can take a more distant perspective and keep the whole film in mind while watching the early scenes. The first time seeing the film, the first scene is disorienting, you don't know what's going on, but here I was able to follow things, and it's really sad. If that was the end of the film, it would be the most brutal film of all time, becuase you'd be left completely distraught, with nothing good left. Luckily, it's only the beginning, but having seen the film, it's deeply affecting to watch Pierre sitting there in the police car, having thrown away his entire life because of Marcus' desire for vengeance. Marcus will walk, but Pierre is going to be the one to pay for his animalistic desire in the first half of the film. Not to say that Marcus got off easy, his arm is broken and Alex is in a coma, his world has been destroyed as well, and he's going to have deal with the guilt of knowing that his stupid behavior at the party was what made her leave, and led to her being raped.

The Rectum sequence was really disturbing the first time I saw it, and it still is, but I'm familiar with it so it's not as shocking. Noe does a great job of creating a hell for his characters to go around in, and of course the violence at the end is still shocking. Noe's constantly moving camera leaves you really uneasy, and completely immerses you in these characters' mindset. You see Marcus getting dragged down further and further into the filth of this world, this is what his vengeance has brought him.

The next chunk of scenes further degrade the characters, and show you the complete folly of the desire for vengeance that these characters have. They keep going through these awful situations, trying to get to the Rectum. There's some dazzling camera work in the sequence where they steal the cab, the camera moves in and out of the cab with no cuts, I know they did a CG thing with the glass, but I don't understand how it was done other than that. It's a simple shot, with such a convincing effect you don't think about it, but once you go deeper, it's unbelieable what he does there. I feel like this part of the film is basically designed to show you how ridiculous the desire for revenge is. It's only making Marcus worse, and is doing nothing to help Alex. Pierre is constantly saying they should go visit Alex, but Marcus ignores him and things get worse as a result. At the end of the film, no one benefits, and the revenge ends up failing because they don't even get the right guy.

This film is a great statement against revenge because of the way it removes the vengeance from the act that motivates it. On first viewing, you're disgusted by Pierre when he kills the guy, but when you see the rape scene, it makes you understand what they were doing. I know when I was watching Alex struggling, I really understood what was driving Pierre at that moment. But, you also understand that the revenge is doing nothing good, their lives are destroyed because of it, and they don't even get the right guy. Clearly, it's a statement against vigilante justice. One of the thugs says, "Vengeance is a human right," and that may be, but it's not a right that gets us anything. It doesn't make Alex better, and it doesn't make the crime go away. Trying to get revenge only make things worse, and that's what the film shows us.

I think Noe uses the backwards narrative in a brilliant way throughout the film, but one of the most effective instances is when we see Alex's injured face, an absoultely disgusting image, evidence of such cruelty, and then jump back in time where we see Monica Bellucci, one of the most beautiful women in the world. Who could do what was done to her? That's the question, and the one that is answered when we see La Tenia in the tunnel. The beauty of this sequence, as she walks out of the party and into the streets, is that we know what's coming, and in each moment, she makes a little decision that brings her to that place. The taxi that doesn't arrive, the hooker who tells her to take the underpass, her momentary hesitation when she passes La Tenia beating the hooker, if things had been different only by seconds, she would never have been raped, and their lives would have never been destroyed. But the world seemed to conspire to bring her to this point, which ties in with a point discussed later about the fact that the future is already written, we're just living it, which I think gets to one of the core points of the film.



The midpoint of the film serves as a transition between the two stories of the film, one is essentially Marcus and Pierre's, while the second half is all about Alex. The first time I watched the film I was still reeling from the stuff that happened in the first half, and I couldn't really appreciate the second half of the film. I saw it as basically a long cool down period, that plays with your emotions a little bit, but only in relation to the beginning of the film. On this viewing, I saw that the two halves of the film are equally important, the second half isn't meant as just a comment on the first, it's a great story in its own right, and one is absolutely crucial to the film's development. I think it's very easy to get caught up in discussing the more controversial bits of the film and lose track of the more subtle pieces in the second half of the film.

Probably my favorite scene in the film is party scene, which is technically phenomenal. It's another really long take, moving all around the party, switching from character to character on occasion and making you feel like you are a guest at the party hanging out with the characters. If I had to guess, I'd say this is probably the longest scene of the film, and the improvised dialogue tells us so much about the characters. Having just seen the extended rape scene, we obviously view the party to some extent through the knowledge we have of what's about to happen, making stuff like Alex dancing with her friends both beautiful and sad. On the first viewing, all I could think of was that she'd never dance like that again, but on this time I was able to appreciate the fact that this was probably the last moment in her life that she was happy, and at least that's something. I saw her as a person, not solely defined by the crime that is committed to her. I love her trying to drag Pierre out onto the dance floor, and him saying he just wants to watch.



The other crucial bit is this scene is when Alex is talking to her pregnant friend. You don't know it the first time, but she herself is pregnant, and clearly can connect to what she's saying. Knowing what we know is going to happen to her, one of the toughest scenes is when Alex and Marcus argue. She says, "You can be so gentle," which is such a contrast to his goofy funboy persona at the party. He's someone who clearly always has to be the center of attention at a party, and that's why he has to snort coke and drink. His behavior makes her decide to leave the party, and it's that decision that ultimately destroys all their lives. You know that Marcus will relive those moments for the rest of his life, and be torn over with regret about the fact that he was the one who made Alex decide to leave. And then in the conversation with Pierre, she tells him to watch out for Marcus rather than go with her, and that's a decision that ultimately leads to Pierre being sent to prison. Because we know what's to come, each of these decisions takes on so much more significance, it's those two simple decisions that lead to everything that happens.

In the scene before they go to the party, Alex, Pierre and Marcus are in an elevator and she talks about the idea that all of time is already written, essentially presenting a 4-D view of time, similar to that which Grant Morrison talks about in The Invisibles. I think this one line is the crucial key to understanding the thematic point of the film. The title at the end of the film says "Time Destroys All," which would mean that without time our moments of happiness would live on forever. Time is the villain of this film, because it's what brings Alex to the moment where she is raped. But, what Noe does with the film's struucture is take the viewer outside of time and see everything reconstructed instead of destroyed. He gives us a 4-D perspective over events, a perspective which is especially apparent when you've seen the film already.

When you watch a film you engage in a linear progression through time, that is what makes film a unique medium, it is the only medium that can capture the passage of time. So, when you watch a film the first time, it's like living life, everything's already written, but you don't know what's going to happen, so it's like it's new to you. When you are in a 3-D time continuum the great variable is the future. When you rewatch a film, you already know what is going to happen, but you are encouraged to re-engage in the 3-Dimensional view of time, and journey through the story again. This film, even on the first viewing, blatantly challenges traditional notions of the passage of time in a film. By structuring the film from end to beginning, Noe forces you to first view events without context, and thus evaluate them without any sort of moral bias, and then later in the film, makes you look at events with knowledge that the characters don't hold, so you see sadness in scenes where the characters are perfectly content. It inverts your normal emotional reactions because you have a different view of time than in the traditional film. But, on the first viewing, your knowledge of the characters' future so colors your perception of their present that you are unable to engage with them in their emotional context at that moment.

However, once you've seen the film a couple of times, the trauma at the beginning of the film exerts less influence and you see the film in a less linear way. Each viewing of the film gradually takes you further away from viewing the film as a linear time continuum, and more as a series of moments, each existing, each valid. So, the less you view things as a passage of time, the less things are destroyed. Time may destroy all eventually, we all end up dead, but if all time is already written, that means that each moments exists in space-time always. So, despite the awful events that happen to the characters, the sweet moments from the end (chronological beginning) of the film will always be there.

The most notable sweet moment is the scene in which Alex and Marcus wake up and get ready for the party. When we see Marcus earlier in the film, he's a bit of a bastard, and inadvertantly leads to the destruction of Alex and Pierre's lives, but here, we can understand why she likes him. They're great together, and the whole warmth of this scene is such a contrast to the danger and violence of earlier in the film. The fact that they're both so comfortable naked around each other implies a safety that both of them feel, something that Alex will probably never feel again because of what La Tenia did to her. I love the song that's playing during this scene, and the little hints that Noe gives to make us remember that even though things are good now they won't be forever: Alex's resistance to Marcus' come ons, and his suggestion that they try anal sex. It doesn't affect them, but it pains the viewer. My favorite image in this scene is of Marcus kissing Alex through the shower curtain. In that context it's an expression of their love but the viewer is forced to think of her as a dead body in plastic, since it's quite possible she will die. The scene is another dazzling long take, and the two characters' rapport is so natural, this great moment they share is a memory they both will treasure once the pain of what happened begins to fade away.



The ending of the film just drives home more what they've lost. Alex is pregnant, and she has so much hope for her future, hope that is cruelly taken away. On the first viewing, this moment was incredibly sad, because we know what will happen, but here I could share her happiness. Even though she'll never have the baby, this moment of happiness will always be there, and her dreams of the life she might have will never come true, but that doesn't mean that dreaming is without purpose. The second half of the film presents some isolated moments of happiness, and maybe that's all we can hope for. Bad things will happen, we all end up dead, but hopefully we'll live to the fullest the time we have. That's the message I see from this film, that all of us are going to run into awful events at some time or another, so live to the fullest while you can, now is all we have. Will Alex have regrets, of course, but from what we can see, she had happiness in her life, and she had love, and even the rapist can't destroy the past.

This is a film that's so deep, and works on so many levels, I could talk about it forever, but a couple of things I want to note. I love the final few images, the spiralling around the sprinkler, the 2001 poster, the park, just beautiful. I think the acting in this film is some of the most natural and affecting in all of cinema. It must have been tough for Monica Bellucci and Vincent Cassel, who are married in real life, to do some of the scenes, but they each excel, and the improvised dialogue feels very real. Technically, I can only think of a couple of films that approach this in terms of scope and execution. It's not an easy film, but so many films think of the viewer as an idiot, it's refreshing to see something that will challenge the way you think about film, and the way you think about life. I've seen it three times, and while it's less shocking each time, it's also even better each time.

Censorship

I was reading some articles on Safe that have made me reconsider my view of the ending a bit. Originally, I saw it as a really dark ending, that she was retreating further and further from the world, and now that she's in this bubble, there's nowhere left to go. However, what I failed to realize was the fact that throughout the film, she blames all her problems on society, the chemicals, and never actually looks at herself. Look at the psychiatrist scene, where she barely speaks. So, here, isolated from the world, she no longer has any excuses. There is no one there but herself, and when she looks in the mirror, maybe she'll finally see what she's become. Rather than being a retreat, what being in the igloo might force her to do is confront her problems, and then re-emerge, reborn and ready to face the world again, having taken care of her own problems. But, that's not definitive. It's definitely ambiguous, but there is an alternative explanation. That doesn't change the fact that I don't think Wrenwood works, she does have to confront the problem, and being at Wrenwood is running away from it. Maybe being in the bubble will let her finally confront herself.

Completely different topic. I was in the computer lab, reading my New York Times when I come across an article about the new head of the FCC, and how, backed by the Parents Television Council, plans to increase the power of the FCC, possibly to include ruling over cable channels. Now, this Parents Television Council is a pretty ridiculous organization, they're the people behind nearly every "indecency" related scandal you run in to was motivated by them, not masses of common people who were actually offended by something. This is an awful organization, attacking two of the most important things in the world, free government and free art.

I myself am a creative type, and a huge fan of TV and films, and I deeply value the crative autonomy of filmmakers, including those working for television. One of the shows that has been most attacked by the PTC is one of my favorite shows, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Buffy was a show that portrayed the dark side of the world, and had many violent and disturbing scenes, but it is also a show that has deep moral convictions and a commitment to doing the right thing, something that is clearly missed by this group. Even though they've clearly watched many episodes, as you can see by the list of objectionable content the show contains, on their site. But they don't seem to get that when the show has a violent sex scene, like Buffy and Spike in "Smashed," it's not there for shock value, it has reprocussions that are addressed explicitly in the next episode and also throughout the rest of the series. The violence on the show is frequently disturbing, as in 'Dead Things,' when Warren attempts to rape, then murders Katrina, but they acknowledge that it's disturbing. That's the line, many shows present violence as consequenceless, here there are always consequences to violent actions, be they physical or emotional. Thus, even though it treads on the dark side, the show in fact has a deep sense of right and wrong.

But, to take it more general, the PTC has no right to take away creative freedom in order to protect 'the children.' If you want to see the extent of their bizarre campaign, check out this clip," in which we can see that they have combed over hours of TV programming to find the most offensive bits. It's odd to think of some guy sitting alone in a room watching tapes of Nip/Tuck and just marvelling at the immorality of it all. I wonder if sometimes that filter cracks a bit, and even though they started watching out of hate, they eventually get caught up in the story, and the exploits of Mcnamara/Troy.

So, stop trying to control other peoples' lives. If you don't want your kids to watch something, keep an eye on them, but there's no reason that challenging programming shouldn't be available for people of all ages. Maybe worry about whether a show is creatively fulfilling rather than how much violence or language is on it. 2001 and Irreversible are both great movies, one is rated G and one is NC-17, and both have an equal right to exist.

"Safe," Far From The Filth

Yesterday I watched the film, Safe, by Todd Haynes, the director of the brilliant Far From Heaven. Safe on the surface seems incredibly different from that film, but scratch the surface a bit and you can find a lot of similarities. The other work it reminded me a lot of is Grant Morrison's The Filth, which touches on a lot of the same issues as this film does.

Safe is basically a horror movie where the villain is modern society, the very air that we breathe. It begins with a really mundane life, as Carole goes around, running errands, going to exercise and supervising the installation of a new couch in her house. It's completely unremarkable stuff, and at that point, you're not really sure what's up with the movie.



Eventually, Carol has a coughing fit in a parking lot, and from then on, she gets gradually sicker. One of the things I really liked is the way Haynes revisits many of the mundane scenes from earlier in the film, but once you have an awareness of Carol's chemical illness, they take on additional meaning. At the beginning of the film, she's the best one in her exercise class, but later, she's struggling to keep up. The most obvious one is the dry cleaners, which becomes the site of her ultimate breakdown.

Even more than the constant pollution, the toughest thing for me about watching the beginning of the film is the fact that no one seems to really know Carol. As long as she stays in the role of wife/mother, and the talk remains on a surface level, she's fine, but once she gets in trouble, all her friends shy away from her, putting out that which is not normal. Their cheery enthusiasm from earlier turns to suspicion of that which is different. Even her husband seems uunable to relate to her once her symptoms start showing up.



The second half of the film is the more difficult to figure out. The 'safe' house that Carol goes to is a reallly odd world, and I'm not sure what the filmmaker's position on it is. I think what they're doing there is just indulging the psychosomatic symptoms that created the disease, and not helping bring people to a cure. I have the feeling that might be Todd Haynes' view as well, if you look at the scene where everyone is talking about what they think cured the disease, it all comes down to stress, rather than actual trauma.

The film is all about the world of 1987, and everything talked about in the film still applies to the present. Basically, these people have all given themselves a disease because of things in their life that they're dissatisfied with. Carol gets the disease from the excesses of materialism in her life. It's the new couch that does it. But, is it the society that is at fault, or is it her? As the film goes on, she moves increasingly further and further away from society, until the end where she seals herself in a small bubble that the world cannot come in to. So, she has found temporary repose there, but as Claire says earlier, Henry was fine until someone walked into his bubble, and Carol can't become better by retreating from the world. I found those final moments of the film horrifying, and I was left slightly disturbed at the end of the film because of the bleakness of that space. The cold grays and stark minimalism of it seemed so dead to me, she has gone from extremes of materialism at the beginning of the film to basically nothing at the end.

Safe, like Far From Heaven, stars one of the greatest actresses working today, Julianne Moore. This is her earliest work that I've seen and I don't think she's quite as good as in Boogie Nights, Magnolia or The Hours, or even Far From Heaven, but competing against herself is some of the toughest compettition. I mean, she's been in so many phenomenal films, and unfortunately the film most people know her from is The Forgotten. Anyway, she is still strikingly good here, she says more with her looks than with her words, and that's a sign of good character building.

This film has a lot in common with Far From Heaven, in that both films are about the effects of outside society on a housewife who seems to be living the American dream, but once she deviates from the norm, she finds out that she's really alone. Linda in this film is just like Eleanor in Far From Heaven, in that even though she seems to be a good friend, we realize that it's just a surface friendship, and once an outside element comes in, her whole circle abandons her. In the case of this film, Carol is exiled because of a problem within her, while in Far From Heaven, it's because of things she does. Ultimately, the point of both films is that society rejects that which is outside the norm, and people who attempt to challenge the norm cannot co-exist. The crushing mundanity of the everyday will destroy those who are different.

The Far From Heaven comparison is pretty easy, but the work this film reminded me the most of is Grant Morrison's The Filth. Both Safe and The Filth are about people struggling to navigate a corrosive modern world. The main characters in each work are exposed to the worst that modern society has to offer, but the route they take after this exposure is where the primary difference emerges.

The Filth was pitched as 'a healing inoculation of grime.' Grant Morrison's basic idea was that people are getting weak because they're afraid to engage with the dark forces in the world, only by confronting the darkness, the bad things in the world, can you stand against them and be stronger. Thus, rather than trying to get rid of an illness, you would work with the virus and turn it into a positive. Basically, the bad stuff is a part of life, and only by facing it can you become stronger.

In Safe, the Wrenwood rehibilitation center, and Peter Dunning, take the opposite tact. They completely insulate the center from any pollutants, and attempt to shut the outside world out. Dunning talks about changing his interior world to make the exterior world a better place, but in fact what he is doing is shutting out the outside world, as expressed when he says 'I stopped reading the papers,' because he didn't want to face the negativity. I think the thing he forgets is that running away from a problem isn't going to make it go away.



This idea is best expressed in what happens to Carol. She goes to Wrenwood to get better, and presumably be able to go back to society at some point. However, what happens is she becomes even more sensitive to the chemicals. One of the most striking scenes for me is when a car passes her and she nearly passes out. How does she hope to one day return to society if one car nearly destroys her. Over the course of the film, she gets worse, such that she thinks even fumes from the highway make it to her cabin and keep her sick. She tells her husband that she's going to be back home soon, but what she's doing is just retreating further and further from that which made her sick in the first place, culminating in her closing herself in the bubble at the end of the film.

The people in Wrenwood seem to know that the disease is brought on by stress, and therefore probably at least partially psychosomatic. Carol was looking for an explanation for her problems and found it from that organization, and the more she hears about it, the more she develops the symptoms of it. I think what it comes down to is she wants to find a reason for her unhappiness, considering she probably has the life she'd always wanted, and this disease provides as good an explanation for it as any. It takes the blame off of her and puts in on society, in such a vague way that she can always use it as a crutch for her problems, and that's what almost everyone in the center seems to do, use this disease as an explanation for other problems in their lives.

So, I think the treatment of moving away from the problem only makes things worse. In The Filth, the modern world may be shit, but at the end, Ned Slade realizes that he can use it to fertilize his garden. Bad things do happen, and you can either use them to grow or get defeated and retreat into a bubble, as Carol does. I don't see any cure in sight for Carol, she can't get any more isolated than the igloo-bubble, and eventually she wont' leave that bubble. Only by confronting modern society can she overcome her illness. She needs a healing inoculation of grime.

Does Todd Haynes think this? I'm not sure, I think it's pretty clear he doesn't agree with what's going on with Wrenwood, but I think he also has a more negative view of the world than I do. The film has this whole dirty 80s feel, with nasty clothes, fumes everywhere, and you do get the feeling that we're living in an apocalyptic place.

But, regardless of how Todd Haynes feels, it's a great film, and one that is so ambiguous and challenging, I'd love to see it again and analyze it deeper. One thing I didn't mention is the score, which sounded a bit like Blade Runner's, a huge compliment coming from me. It contributes to this nasty modern world feel, with its oddly artificial synthesizers. Ultimately, if I'm still thinking about a film a day after watching it, and I feel the need to write this much about it, and I've barely scratched the surface of what I could say, it's a total success.

Final Moments

So, I read today that The Sopranos season five is coming out on DVD in June, and that the sixth season will begin filming in April, even though it won't air until 2006. It's good to hear some stuff happening with the series since it's been a year since season five aired, and there didn't seem to be much news on the show since. It's up there as one of the best shows of all time and I'm really looking forward to seeing everything wrapped up.

There's always a strange feeling when you reach the end of a long TV series or comic series. When I start a series I know is limited, I'm always curious about how it's going to end, and as I'm moving along, part of me is always thinking about what the series finale is going to be. But, when I actually get to that last episode or issue, the ending seems like the worst thing possible. In comics it's most apparent because you can see exactly how many pages you have left, and the closer you get to the end of the book, the more you realize you're never going to see these people again, their world is ending, and even though you can travel back to their earlier adventures, there's never going to be the thrill of discovering a new plot twist or character development. On Preacher it was really apparent, I remember flipping through those last pages, and feeling really sad that there was no more left in their world. With The Invisibles, I loved the last issue so much, I was emotionally overwhelmed, and everything seemed to blur together into a really fitting ending.

With TV series, there's no physical measure of when the show will end. You're just sitting there, and as time passes, there's an increasing feeling of sadness, because things are coming to a close. On Buffy, when they had the core four repeat their dialogue from the end of 'The Harvest,' it hit home that they very likely would never be together like that again. Even though I think Buffy overstayed its welcome a bit, at the end I would have given anything for just a little bit more. Same with Angel. Even though it has a much stronger close, at the moment the final credt appeared there was a moment of sadness before I realized how great the ending was. And all throughout you get these moments that you just know are endings, notably Lorne's 'Goodnight folks,' the first time I saw the episode, I knew he was not coming back.

With Twin Peaks, I was just sittng there stunned for five minutes, thinking about how I'd never find out if Audrey survived the bank explosion, or whether Ben Horne was dead, not to mention the whole Cooper/Bob thing. It's very strange that throughout the whole series, you're racing to find out what happens in the end, and then when you get there, you'd give anything to have new episodes to watch again.

But that's a feeling that's not just applicable to the end of a TV series, it's what happens at the end of any big project. Like, all through high school, you're racing to the end, and then in those last few days, you're thinking, I'll never go to this class again, or I'll never eat in the caferteria again. I'd imagine at the end of college it will be even more apparent, because there's a lot of people I'm just never going to see again, people I know, but aren't that close friends with, and if they live far away, we'll just go our seperate ways and gradually be forgotten.

When you're at that ending, you can only think of the fact that there's not going to be anymore, but with a little time, you adjust to the fact that even though whatever experience you've gone through is over, it's really the cumulative that matters. Like, when I think of The Invisibles, I don't wish there were a few more pages, I look more at the cumulative effect of the whole series, and remember moments from throughout it that were great. And even Buffy, which I don't think concluded quite satisfactorily, I don't think of the incomplete ending or lack of character resolution, I remember more the great moments from throughout the series.

I think finishing something takes you out of a linear time perspective on it. When you're in it, you can only look at where you are now and what's next. What came before doesn't seem as important, but once you finish something, you see it's not what you ended up that matters, it's how you got there. So, bringing it back to the top, when I get to the end of The Sopranos, it's going to be tough, and I'll be thinking, ah, I'll never see Tony again, or Christopher or Carmela, and when that final credit screen does appear, I'll probably be a bit mad, but already I can appreciate the fact that there have been 75 brilliant episodes of the series already, and even though I won't have anything new to watch, there'll still be rewatching to do, and new shows to come.

You Have 30 Seconds to Leave the Cinema (I Stand Alone)

Yesterday I watched the film I Stand Alone by director Gaspar Noe, the man who brought the world Irreversible, one of the most intense and technically brilliant films ever made. I was a bit underwhelmed by this, and I think the reason for that might be the expectations I had going into the film. I saw Irreversible over the summer and it blew me away. I was expecting a really brutal film, and it delivered on that account, but after I got over the intensity of the film what was really astonishing was the use of the medium. The film is a series of about eight long take scenes, each about ten minutes, all linked together seamlessly via editing. There are no cuts in a 90 minute film. Noe uses this device in a variety of ways, and each sequence of the film is dazzling. The opening 'Rectum' scene has the camera moving all around in such a way that you're disoriented, and the quick flashes of violence leave the viewer feeling really uncomfortable. You really get the sense of a descent into hell, which is heightened by the music.

In the infamous ten minute long rape scene, Noe just puts the camera in one place and lets you observe how awful this violent act really is. In most films, extreme violence like that is cut away from, sort of taking you off the hook and you have an idea of how bad it is, but you don't get to witness it for yourself. What the film does is first present you with an act of revenge without context, the beating with the fire extinguisher at the beginning of the film. When I first saw that, I was really disgusted, but then after you see the awfulness of the rape scene, you understand what they were feeling, and want the characters to take that revenge. But, by removing the revenge from an emotional context, you can understand that the act of revenge doesn't do anything, it just causes further problems and leads to all the character's lives being destroyed.

Noe's movement of the camera is unbelievable, going outside and inside, and moving in ways I've never seen a camera move before, particularly in the scene where Alex is walkng down the red tunnel. The party scene is another unbelievable sequence, as Noe's extended take gives you the feeling of walking around the party yourself and getting a sense of the scene. It's not like this party was being staged for our benefit as the viewer, it's like we happened to wander into a party in progress. That shot was so complicated Noe ends up using a take where Vincent Cassel first calls himself Vincent, then remembers his character name and says he's just kidding. The actors are amazing in the movie, which was largely improvised.

Then, Noe uses an unbroken take towards the end of the film to convey the warmth of the relationship between Alex and Marcus. By observing a regular day for them, you get a real sense of how good things were, which makes the beginning of the film even more tragic. Time does indeed destroy all in this world.

I Stand Alone is definitely a film you should see before Irreversible, if only because after watching Irreversible, it can't measure up in terms of shock value. But, in a lot of ways it's more disturbing. Irreversible is about fundamentally good characters who have awful things happen to them. I Stand Alone is about an awful character who maybe gets a happy ending at the end of the film. It's tough to engage with a film whose protagonist is so distasteful, and this man clearly is. Even though we know his background, it doesn't make him seem any more human. He's someone who exists in his own bubble, deluded by memories of his daughter and the life he once led.



The film uses voiceover in an interesting way, to really put you in the head of the character, and it's not a nice place to be. He's racist and homophobic and prone to urges of extreme violence. I thlink what's so tough to take is the fact that he seems on the surface like a fairly ordinary guy, but the further you get into the film, the extent of his psychosis is revealed.

I didn't really enjoy the film, and I think that's partially because you have no anchor, nothing outside of this guy to latch on to. He's the only character who's really developed, and he's a difficult character to engage with. In addition, I think the pacing of the film is a bit too slow. After the incidents with his mistress, the Butcher basically wanders around for 45 minutes, before we get to the meat of the film in the last 20. Those last 20 minutes were great, but I wish the film had spent more time there, and less on him just going around Paris, being annoyed. I guess another problem might be this film touches on similar territory as Oldboy, and I think Oldboy made the situation more interesting and complex than it is here.

While this is nowhere near the technical tour de force that is Irreversible, it's a very well made film with a lot of interesting cinematic techniques. He does frequent zooms punctuated by a loud noise that are unsettling and keep you on edge. My favorite moment of the film is when a title appears stating "You have 30 Seconds to Leave the Cinema," and proceeds to count down those seconds. Strangely, it doesn't take you out of the film, as most extra-textual devices do, but instead deepens the suspense and leaves you wondering, what could possibly live up to this title. Unfortunately, what does occur pales in comparison to Irreversible, so the title seems unwarranted. That said, it is a great, really emotional scene, and disturbing too. My favorite scene was the Butcher trying to comfort his daughter, as the Pachabel Canon plays in the background. The ending of the film gives him an oddly happy ending, and I liked that fact, since it leaves you very unsettled. Regardless of the film's virtues, I felt really uncomfortable watching it, so I'll give it that.



So, Irreversible is basically about the ways that the world destroys good people, while this film is about a bad person who somehow finds a piece of good within the world, though as we see in Irreversible, when the character reappears, it doesn't last long. Even though I didn't really connect with I Stand Alone, I can respect what Noe was trying to do, and I think he succeeds. However, the film is so visually oppressive, with crushingly dull colors, I found it tough to take. Irreversible may have scenes of awful extreme violence, but it also is shot in a really exciting way, and has some beautiful scenes. ISA is a really well made film, but the production design isn't particuarly interesting, and without a strong emotional hook, or cool looking environments, you're left with just the awful life of this character, which may have been exactly the point.

Review Roundup

While I was still on break, I watched Richard Linklater's The Newton Boys. Linklater is one of the best filmmakers working today, but this film wasn't very good. All of his other movies have been set in either the present or the recent past (the 70s of Dazed and Confused). While I don't think he can only do movies about the present, Waking Life was certainly an interesting exploration of an odd world, but I think a Linklater film requires characters who exist in a world with relevance to the viewer. All of his other films have relatively universal themes, but The Newton Boys is a caper movie about bank robbers. You can't really relate to this, and the 1920s setting is further alienating. The movie has a lot more plot than your typical Linklater, and the film just doesn't quite work. You don't really care about the characters and things just go along, with no effect on the viewer. It's admirable to try something different, but this was a much too conventional film for Linklater. It didn't have any kind of personal touch.



I also saw Gone With the Wind. Now, this is an undisputed classic, and even today, 66 years after its original release, it's still a spectacular, visually dazzling film. In the film, there's a sense of discovery about the medium, like this film was trying to go beyond everything that had come before in terms of dazzling visuals. In this sense, it's tied to the art cinema of years later, when crafting impressive visuals is as important as crafting a coherent narrative. Despite being a four hour movie, not that much stuff happens, the narrative is really a showcase for visual splendor, and the film succeeds on that level. It's not a perfect film, there's issues surrounding race relations and some of the acting suffers from the typical overwroughtness of Hollywood studio era filmmaking, but by the time you reach "Frankly my dear I don't give a damn," it's pretty much impossible not to be impressed by what this film accomplished. The great films are always the ones that push the boundary of the medium in some way, and that's what this film did.



I also saw To Live by Zhang Yimou, the man who directed Hero, House of Flying Daggers and The Road Home. To Live is an earlier film, and to my mind, a much weaker film, or at least one that's less accessible to a Western audience. All his other films that I've seen are more about people than specific ties to Chinese history, with the arguable exception of Hero, but that's so visually rich, you can get by without knowing the history. To Live is all about the rise of communism in twentieth century China, and it falls into the trap of a lot of movies that cover a big chunk of time. This film goes from the 1930s to the 1960s, and even though a lot of stuff happens, I don't get a sense of consistent character arcs. It's more the world changes around the characters than the characters doing stuff to change their lives. So, I felt sort of removed from what was going on, and as the tragedies piled up, you eventually become numb to the bad stuff. This film was clearly meant for a Chinese audience, whereas someone like Wong Kar-Wai is making films that can appeal to pretty much anyone.

To Live could actually almost be a Chinese Gone with the Wind, since both films show the turmoil that a civil war causes for civilians, and the various trials they undergo. I think Gone With the Wind works better because it has a stronger emotional hook. You really care about Scarlett, and understand what she's going through, while the people in To Live change so much over time, you get the sense that they are just blank slates for whatever chunk of plot has to come next. While a film can succeed even if you aren't emotionally attached to the characters, To Live could not because it wasn't interesting enough on its own terms, it needed character hooks to make it work.

I also saw the film Blanc from the three colors trilogy. This was an odd film, a dark comedy that wasn't particularly funny, it was more about the absurdity of life. This felt a lot like the stereotypical art film, not much happens, it's set in Eastern Europe, doesn't really have a plot. There were some cool shots, particularly the wedding scenes, but on the whole this one didn't really work for me. I liked Bleu, the first of the trilogy, much better. And another strike against this film is Julie Delpy barely gets anything to do, seeing her on the box I assumed she'd have a bigger role, but that's more a fault of the marketing than of the film itself.



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Dazed and Confused

Today, I watched Dazed and Confused, the excellent film from director Richard Linklater. Linklater is one of the most interesting directors working today and is one of the biggest influences on the stuff that I've done. Linklater is notable for maintaining an independent voice even when working on big studio films, such as School of Rock and this film.

Dazed was made after his breakthrough film, Slacker, an independently financed film that put him on the map. Slacker is a non-narrative journey through the city of Austin, stopping off just long enough to hear what each character has to say, then moving on. Waking Life is structurally very similar to Slacker. After the success of Slacker he was given the opportunity to make a higher budget, more mainstream studio film, an opportunity that proves the death knell of many people who have made a great independent film. It's very easy to make a bad, or at least more conventional, less unique film when given this opportunity.

Luckily, Linklater actually improves on his first outing and crafts a really art cinema version of the teen comedy. The film drifts through a bunch of seperate character's lives, with the narrative being passed along from character to character in the same manner as in Slacker. The film doesn't really have a plot, it's just a bunch of stuff that happens, but it works becuase the film isn't about character so much as about capturing a period of time. Linklater does a great job of giving the film a 70s feeling. The soundtrack is great, and the production design make sthe film feel authentically period. However, he also touches on universal themes. So, while the film is set in the 70s, it's also timeless.

Linklater has such a great ear for talk that he's able to make some twenty unique characters in minimal time. Just from what people say, we can understand everything about them. He has an ear for minute details in dialogue that give the film a lot of realism. And, because he doesn't have to service a narrative, the dialogue is always natural, not subordinated to the demands of a story. Dazed and Confused has much more in common with French New Wave and 60s art cinema than it does with any other teen comedy ever made. Even though the film was advertised as a drug film, I think it works more as just a great art film within a traditionally commercial genre.

I like the way the film simultaneously inspires nostalgia and condemns it. To go all this effort to recreate his high school years clearly indicates that Linklater has strong love for those times, and wants to share that love with others. The success of the film is pretty much dependent on the viewer feeling on some level that high school was a great time, and wouldn't it be great to have another go at it. But then at the end, he upends this by having Pink reject this very nostalgia, and say that he's only killing time before he can leave. It's a great embrace of the odd relationship I think everyone has with high school. When you're there you can't wait to leave, but after that, there's always a part of you that would love to go back there. It's wise that Linklater has the character say he wants to leave, even though Pink ten years down the line may just be saying "Wow, those were the best years of my life."

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Music I've Been Listening To

In the ongoing journey through life you encounter many things, and in my recent journeys, I've been listening to some new albums.

Daft Punk - Human After All: Discovery by Daft Punk is one of my favorite albums of all time. It's a brilliant concoction of music that simultaneously sounds like it's from the 70s, the 80s and the future. It walks the line of campiness, but never strays too far. 'Digital Love' is one of the greatest songs of all time. So, understandably I had high hopes for Daft Punk's new album, Human After All. I have sort of mixed feelings about the album. On the one hand, it's great fun to listen to and has some excellent tracks, notably 'Robot Rock' and 'Human After All,' but it's also disappoiinting since it doesn't even approach what Discovery did. If this was just the follow up to 'Homework,' I would probably like it a lot more since I wouldn't be expecting that much. But Discovery is such a great album, I can't help but feel disappointed. A lot of the tracks have very cool elements, but they're not played with in the same way previous Daft Punk songs were. There's not enough variation. But, remove this from its context, and it's a really nice techno, and one I've thoroughly enjoyed listening to, and probably will far into the future. I think I just have to admit that Discovery is something of a standalone creation, and enjoy it for what it is, rather than seek more of the same.



Gwen Stefani - Love, Angel, Music, Baby: Speaking of Discovery, that's an album that did a great job of sounding simultaneously retro and very now. And with her solo album, Gwen Stefani pulls off the same, with the greatest 80s album never made. Now, I liked some of No Doubt's stuff, but other than a few tracks (Hella Good, Hey Baby, It's My Life), they didn't really grab me. But, after hearing the opening track off this album, 'What You Waiting For,' I was intrigued, and I got the rest of the album, and it did not disappoint. I love the 80s sound, but a lot of tracks from the 80s just aren't that good, this album gives you everything you would want from an 80s song, but also brings it subtly into the present day. This is one of the few albums where the singles aren't the best tracks on the album. 'Rich Girl,' which is pretty popular on radio right now, is probably the worst track, and even at that, it's still great. The album has an incredible pop sound and is just so fun to listen to.

This is an album where pretty much every track is great. 'What You Waiting For' is a great energetic opener, and after a couple of weaker hip hop type tracks, she busts out the first 80s ballad, 'Cool,' which reminds me a lot of Yazoo's 'Only You,' but also stands on its own. The use of synth in this song is beautiful, it belongs in a Wong Kar-Wai film. 'Bubble Pop Electric' with Andre 3000 is pretty bizarre, but lives up to the title with some bubbly pop. It's a smart, fun song. 'Luxurious' uses the same sample as 'Big Papa,' but it puts it in a different context and makes it work. This leads into a four song run that is perfect. 'Crash' continues the car as sex metaphor, the lyrics may not be groundbreaking but the song works. 'Real Thing' is an update of New Order, featuring a cameo by them, and it may be the best song on the album. Gorgeous guitar work, great vocal, it works. 'Serious' also deserves props. Then, 'Danger Zone' is hard hitting synthpop that just owns. It's a track that begs for an extended remix, since it's got an absoultely killer riff, and great use of bass. The last track's the only real dud, sounding like a reject from 'The Love Below,' but that doesn't stop this from being one of the best albums I've heard in a long time. Good pop music is an art, and with this album, Gwen proves she's a master of it. Retro without being dated, it's an album that seems effortless. This really is a must listen to album.




Doves - Some Cities: Another great album from one of the best bands at work. 'The Last Broadcast' is one of my favorite albums of all time, so I was hoping for an equally great followup and the Doves pretty much deliver. I don't think it's quite as good as Broadcast, but with each listen it's growing on me. They do some really interesting things on here that pay off quite well. There's an odd vocal processing on Snowdon that's great and makes the track. 'The Storm' goes for an almost trip hop feel in the middle, and that really works. 'Black and White Town' and 'Sky Starts Falling' are great rocking tracks and 'Almost Forgot Myself' has a nice upbeat melancholy. 'Walk in Fire' is a great track, but sounds a bit too similar to 'There Goes the Fear,' and the middle of the album slows down a bit too much. That said, it's still an awesome album and a worthy followup to The Last Broadcast. I'm really looking forward to seeing them live on my birthday.



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Wonder Women, Aronofsky, Park, Nip/Tuck

Break is winding down. It's been pretty good, I haven't done too much, but I saw some great movies and TV. If each day is fun and I'm always pretty happy, that's enough. Wanting more and being happy with what you have is not mutually exclusive.

Yesterday the news broke that Joss Whedon is going to be writing/directing a Wonder Women movie. This is what I posted to alt.tv.twin-peaks on the subject: "On the project in general, I'll see it and I think it will be good, but I'm a bit disappointed. Part of me wanted to see Joss return to the Buffyverse again, but barring that, I'd have loved to see him writing an original script. I feel like he might have to make too many concessions to the studio and while something like Spiderman and X2 would great fun, I don't know want to see one of the most talented storytellers in film doing something that's just great fun. My favorite superhero movie is Batman Returns, and that's really a Tim Burton film that happens to feature Batman. I don't think Joss has such a tight set of themes or a visual style that he can make Wonder Woman a definitively Joss Whedon film. His strength is in creating
characters, and how much leeway is there to do that within the constraints of a studio action film."

Basically, I feel like this is a project that's definitely going to help his career. I don't see huge box office for Serenity, it'll be lucky to make it to $50 million, so by directing this film, he's going to stake his claim to the A list, and like Tim Burton wtih Batman, this film will probably make him a household name, if he's not already. So, hopefully he'll get this one out quick and it will get him the capital to be able to work on an original script. And Joss is a huge comics fan, so it's got to be cool to be able to make a movie based on a comic book icon. I know if I ever got the chance to direct an Invisibles or Flex Mentallo movie, I'd be all over that.

The New York Times Arts section today (for Sunday) was awesome. They had a lengthy article about Darren Aronofsky and his upcoming film, The Fountain. This is a film I've been hearing about for years, and back at the beginning of the year, I said it was my third most anticipated film of 2005. Aronofsky is one of the best filmmakers working today, and to see him doing a complex sci-fi film is a dream. I love science fiction so much, yet most sci-fi movies are just action movies set in the future, they use a sci-fi conceit as an excuse for action scenes. The best sci-fi stuff uses the conventions of another world to explore our own. Look at a film like 2001 or Blade Runner, both give you this astonishing new world, but also have tons to say about where we are now, and The Fountain seems to be doing the same thing.

The problem with a lot of science fiction is that it's cold and not emotionally real. The best sci-fi movies in recent years were Solaris and 2046, the latter had 15 minutes of sci-fi stuff, but in those moments so perfectly used the conventions of the genre to tell this really emotional story. The Fountain seems to be doing the same thing, and hopefully it'll live up to the five years of waiting for the film.

The other great article they had was on Park Chanwook, the Korean filmmaker behind the brilliant Oldboy, one of the most pop movies ever made. The movie finally comes out here next week, but I saw it a while back, and it really lives up to the hype as just a twisting, brutal film that's just so well made. It's a film that has a great plot, but the plot is really just a base upon which Park can riff with directorial flourishes. So, it was cool to read about that, and I got a better idea of how Park works and his history.



Another interesting article was about the American remake of The Office. Now, the British version is one of my favorite series, an essentially flawless work of art, and I just don't think the American version can compare. It's the performances and characters that make the show great, not the gimmick. And, considering it'll be an ongoing series, rather than the limited British run, they can't do the coherent plot and character arcs of the British version. David Brent works because we see him push the boundaries and ultimately get punished. If the series is going on indefinitely, he can never face consequences for his actions. But, I'll sample, even if it's got half the quality of the British version, it'll still be one of the best series on TV.

Over this break, I watched the first season fo the show Nip/Tuck. As much as I love film, TV can do things that it can't, and that's to create astonishingly complex and detailed characters, and give you a sense of their whole lives. Film is designed to show the most exciting day of a person's life, while TV is best for showing everyday of a person's life. To compare the media, take a look at Goodfellas and The Sopranos. Goodfellas, while it's a great film, is all about surface and giving you an overview of this guy's life. You get a sense of the world, but not how he behaves on a daily basis. The Sopranos is all about showing the details of daily life and how things always keep coming back to cause problems for Tony and his family. The Sopranos is a much more accomplished work, and the characters are more complex than any in film. For me, film is much more about the director and the way the material is handled, while television is more about the material itself.

Nip/Tuck has a couple of great characters, and a really interesting world. It's also compulsive viewing, like the best series, you just want to stay in this world and follow these people's lives. The most interesting character on Nip/Tuck is Christian Troy, a surgeon who goes along, sleeping with a lot of women and basically living for pleasure, with no concern for anything beyond the material. He's all about image, wearing the best clothes and driving the coolest car. It's fitting considering his profession that he'd be so fixated on his image. Over the course of the season, you have a lot of conflicting feeling towards Christian, since at times he's very cool, sometimes brutally cruel and also tender at times. So, basically he has a facade that's two faced, between very charming and very mean, and this facade hides the real person beneath. I have the feeling if Julia ever confessed she loved him and wanted to be with him, he'd give up his whole life to be with her. It's just that since the only woman he really loves is with Sean, he chooses to go for quantity over quality.



With Sean, there's a feeling that he would be the straight man foil to Christian, but the writers do a good job of making him interesting. His affair with Meagan was a high point, particularly the 'Rocket Man' scene, which was brutal. The scenes at the funeral, where he has to guard his emotions from his wife are great, because the feelings between them are so complex.

Other than Christian, my favorite character is Julia, someone who basically gave up her dreams to be with Sean, and is now looking at her whole world coming down around her. Her flirtations with Christian and Jude make for some great drama, and she's got a lot of layers. It was really surprising to hear her on the bonus features speaking in a British accent, since she pulls off such a convincing American voice on the show.

So, that was good times. It's not as good as a Six Feet Under, which is the show I think it has the most in common with, but it's great viewing, and I'm really glad that it's got another season. It's been too long since I really got hooked on a series like I did on this one.

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Better to Burn Out than to Fade Away

Yesterday, I finished watching Angel season five on DVD. I had seen all the episodes before, the second half when they aired, and I filled in others as I went along, but, unlike every other Buffyverse season, I hadn't seen this season straight through. And, seeing it straight through only confirmed that this was by far the best season of the show, and one of the best in the whole Buffyverse.

The first half of the year is all about the moral gray area the characters find themselves in now that they are running Wolfram and Hart. The episodes are pretty much standalone, but they each in someway contribute to the thematic development of the season, and a lot of threads are started that will pay off later.

The basic conflict is between the fact that in theory, the group can do much more good running Wolfram and Hart than they can as independent operatives, but it doesn't feel that way. Working in the office, there's no sense that they're actually helping people, and in each of the episodes they make some kind of moral compromise to reach an end. For example, in the first episode, Gunn gets knowledge of the law implanted in his head, which helps prevent a bomb from going off that would level L.A., however it also leads to a criminal getting out of the punishment for his crimes. Yes, many people have been saved, but they had to do something bad to get there.

So, there's a lot of moral angst, and I find it very interesting. Each of our heroes is getting run down and losing the conviction to do good that was so strong in the earlier years. In Lineage, Wesley guns down his own father because it will save Fred. He has no hesitation about doing this. Similarly, at the end of 'Hellbound,' Angel imprison Pavayne in a box, presumably for eternity, an extremely cruel punishment, even for this bad guy. It will help the people at Wolfram and Hart, but the Angel of earlier years probably wouldn't have gone such a cruel route to punish someone.

The issues come to a head at the middle of the season, when we see Spike taking over as the champion, fighting evil on the streets, even as Angel becomes more and more imprisioned within his office. I love the way Spike is recast as Angel circa season one, complete with the parallel Doyle.

One of the best episodes of the whole series is 'You're Welcome,' which thankfully rescues Cordelia and gives her a fitting farewell after the way her character was trashed in season four. The scenes between her and Angel are phenomenal, particularly the brutal final scene. You have a sense of a real ending, not just because I knew she was going to die, even before that, you know that this is the end of an era.

The Cordelia appearance sets up a change in Angel, and makes him more proactive in the rest of the season, such as in another classic, 'Smile Time,' which is by far the funniest episode of the series, and also rather disturbing. Angel turns into a puppet sounds like a recipe for laughs, and it is, but those puppets are really nasty characters, and not in a way that's just meant for shock value. The scenes where they drain the energy from the kids have a really dark abuse component. And of course, no one who says the line, "I'm going to rip you a new puppethole bitch," can be a very good person.

This season has arguably the best regular cast of any Buffy show. Boreanaz, Marsters, Alexis Denisof and Amy Acker all are amazing, and do their best work here. I think Boreanaz wasn't great in season one of Buffy, but since then he's just gotten better, and he completely anchors this season, able to do both really dramatic stuff and great petty bickering with Spike. He and Marsters together are hilarious for most of the season, and even better in the dramatic stuff. In 'A Hole in the World,' when they go to England, you can sense that they really respect and understand each other now, in a way they didn't before, even in the vampire days. Some people question the placement of 'The Girl in Question,' but I think it works well within the season. When nothing that important is at stake, Spike and Angel still have their rivalry, but it's more of a joke between them. I don't think either of them really expects to win Buffy at that point, it's more just about the compettition, between each other and with The Immortal. Then, in the next episode, Spike is the first one to support Angel's plan to take down the Black Thorn, and they stand together at the end of 'Not Fade Away.'

Angel goes through a lot in this season, but he's there more as the center, and catalyst for the action. He's in a really interesting moral place at the end of the series, one that is very related to the end of his 'beige' arc in season two. Back then, he realized that if nothing we do matters, everything we do matters, so fighting for good is worth it. For most of season five, he tries to change the system from within, and ultimately fails, so he decides to stop trying to change things gradually, and just destroy the power structure of the senior partners, even though he knows it's probably going to end up killing him. He's basically sick of half measures and compromise, he's going to do what's right even if it means sacrificing a lot. Did Angel know that what he did would bring about the apocalypse? I don't think he quite expected it, but I think he figured that this is the only way to really make the world better. Talking with Lindsey, he says how bad things were getting, and it's clear that considering what he's been through, he has little reason for optimism, but that doesn't mean he's going to stop fighting.

Spike is a great addition to the series. When I was first watching, I liked that he was on the show, but I sort of felt that I'd rather have his ending on Buffy be the way he went out, since it was such a great ending to his arc on that show. However, season five is essential to the completion of his redemption arc. On Buffy, he is always a 'fool for love,' and constantly trying to impress the woman in his life, be it Drusilla or Buffy. At the end of season seven, he sacrifices himself to save Buffy's life, and it seemed like he was certainly a hero by then.

But, in Angel season five, we get to see Spike existing on his own for the first time. He'd gone from his mother to Drusilla to Buffy, but in this year, he gets to be his own person. I think Spike worked best in seasons five and six of Buffy, but he's still a great character here. The most notable thing is that he has truly become a champion, and I think his pure desire to do good is a great contrast to Angel's more compromised worldview. Spike is always there fighting for good, such that he becomes almost an afterthought. When he sacrificed his life at the end of Buffy, it was a grand gesture of love, when he agrees to do the same at the end of Angel, it's because it's the right thing to do. Spike's redemption is complete there, because he is completely selfless in his dedication to doing the right thing.

While Marsters is always great, even Spike was eclipsed by someone towards the end of this season and that was Illyria. I never thought of Amy Acker as a particularly good actress. Fred had some good moments on Angel, but I always assumed Amy Acker was basically playing herself, and she couldn't play any other role. I was proven very, very wrong after 'A Hole in the World.' First, AHITW was probably the second best episode of the series. Like 'You're Welcome,' it has a really apocalyptic feel, a sense of impending doom that has rarely been echoed on the series. Even Lorne is violent and nasty, as everyone comes together to try to save Fred. Gunn realizing that he's the one responsible for what happened to Fred is a haunting moment, as is Spike's speech about the hole in the world, but the real highlight is the scenes in Fred's apartment as she dies. It comes at roughly the same point in the series as The Body on Buffy and this episode is probably the most comprable thing that Joss has written. The Body was a brutal episode and 'A Hole in the World' is very tough too. "Why can't I stay?" was as obvious as Anya's speech in The Body, it's something we've all wondered, but would never say, and to hear it expressed is painful.

But out of all this pain came the best character ever created on Angel, Illyria. Illyria has some parallels with Anya, particularly in her more comedic moments, but she's a much more tragic character. The scene at the end of 'Shells' when she and Wesley are staring at the remains of her kingdom is really powerful. In the two parter, Wesley gets some of his best material to work with. Stabbing Gunn is harsh and really disturbing if you consider their history. Wesley had been betrayed by all his friends in season three, and now he turns further away from Gunn, who had once been his best friend. After becoming so close during the 'Beige Angel' arc in season two, Wesley can't forgive gunn for what he did.

Over the course of the series, Wesley has made a life for himself, and become leader of the team. By the end of season two, he had turned everything around from his ineptitude on Buffy and become a successful leader. But, starting in season three, he gradually loses everything. His arc is right there with Willow and Spike as most compelling in the Buffyverse. The scene where Angel tries to smother him with a pillow is still one of the best in the series. By the end of season three, he's lost all his friends and become an isolated, desolate figure. Season four sees his relationship with Lilah, and gradual reintegration into the gang, but things still aren't the same. Even though Wesley brought him back from the bottom of the ocean, I don't think Angel ever forgives him for stealing his son. Angel has to give up Connor because of what Wesley did.

By season five, Wesley has one thing to live for, Fred. He has no problem killing his own father if it means saving Fred, and right after that, he lets Fred go with Knox instead of telling her how he feels. And, when Fred dies because of Illyria, he loses the one thing he had left, and falls into an even worse depression, and an odd relationship with Illyria. The conceit of Illyria is genius because the characters are constantly confronted by that which they lost, and Illyria cannot understand why they see her that way.

Amy Acker as Illyria is a performance that's unbelievable. When she replays Fred's voice at the end of 'Shells' it really sounds like a recording, it couldn't possibly be the same person. This effect is used again in 'The Girl in Question,' when Illyria changes into Fred to fool her parents. It's almost inconceivable that it's the same person. To see her looking like Fred, but behaving like Illyria gives an idea of just how great the performance is. It's interesting that Wes passes up the chance to be with the fake Fred when back in season four, he had no problem being with Lilah dressed up as Fred. I'd imagine that seeing Lilah as Fred gave him hope, while seeing Illyria as Fred only brings up the pain again.

In the last episode, we see Wesley staying with Illyria on what is supposed to be his last perfect day. He has nothing left to live for, and remains strangely connected to Illyria. One of the most powerful scenes of the series is Wesley's death. We get the reverse of Fred's death, as this time, Illyria gives Wesley the illusion of Fred as he is dying. The really tough part is to see Illyria wearing Fred, but expressing her own emotions. As she says in the alley, she does care about Wesley, and is grieving for him. In her own form, I don't think she can really express this, but as Fred, she completely breaks down. Perhaps the best expression of Illyria's feeling is when she begins as Fred, then switches to Illlyria while punching through Vail's head. It's a great image, and really cathartic for the character.

'Not Fade Away' is the best episode of the series, and just so full of amazing moments. The last days are great, and give the episode the character touch that the end of Buffy didn't have. I like that the fighting isn't really the focus. The fight montage is cool, and we get just enough of each one. One of the most haunting moments of the finale is Lorne killing Lindsey. It's so cold blooded and unheroic, and shocking coming from the most serene character on the series. I've said it before about a couple of episodes, but this had that impending apocalypse feeling as well. Like 'The Gift' on Buffy you just get the sense that this is something very important, and the people aren't going to walk away from this the same.



The last scene of the series is pretty controversial, but I think it perfectly fits the theme of the series. I didn't realize how late things are still being developed. Illyria's grief, something critical to her character is mentioned about a minute before things end, and Gunn dying is just stated offhand. I love the rainy ambience, and Spike and Angel united again at the end. But, most of all, it's the fact that they know they're going to die, but are still doing the right thing. Angel signs away the Shanshu, he's got no destination, nothing to win, and neither do Illyria, Gunn or Spike, but they're all going to fight anyway, because compromising isn't worth it. If nothing we do matters, then everything matters, and even though they are not going to win the fight, they might save some people along the way and after a year of compromising, they are going to finally take a stand.



Comparing the end of Angel to the end of Buffy gives you a good idea of what's different about the two shows. Buffy was all about an ending, when she could stop being the slayer and live a normal life. She had an out, and in the end, she finds that end. She's not the only slayer anymore, Sunnydale and the Hellmouth are destroyed and her duties are done. Her life is just beginning. The whole series Angel had a similar out, the Shanshu, the chance to become human and maybe get back with Buffy. He would have an ending, but in this episode, he signs away the Shanshu and sacrifices the chance that he could ever have a normal life. This is the sort of thing Buffy would never do, she may have sacrificed herself in 'The Gift,' but it was becuase her life was so bad at that point.

Buffy's group always had friends and family. Buffy, Xander, Willow and Giles always had each other, they always had a home, and later Dawn had the same thing. They always had somewhere to go back to. Angel's group is assembled out of people who were alone and just sort of drifted together because they have nowhere else to be. Cordelia joined him because she had no one else, as did Wesley. Gunn killed his sister, and needed a refuge. Fred was alone in L.A. after returning from Pylea, and had nowhere else to go. Illyria is the same way, her kingdom has been destroyed, and she only has Wesley left. Even Spike in season five is basically without aim, his whole world for the past few years has been destroyed, and he can't go back to Buffy. Angel's group is cobbled together out of people who aren't fighting to an end, they've all got their best days behind them, and aren't going anywhere. On Buffy, there's always the sense that one day things will end, and they do, but what's the end for Wesley or Gunn? They've got too much stuff in their past to ever have a really happy ending.

Similarly, through everything, the Buffy people stayed together. Even after turning evil, they accept Willow back into the group, but when Wesley steals Angel's son, he's on his own for a season, and things are never the same. That wound lingers on right up to the end of the series. Similarly, Wesley stabs Gunn, Gunn inadvertantly allows Fred to die, and in season two, Angel abandons his friends. There's a lot of fluidity in the group, but somehow they all stick together, and are with Angel at the end.

While I have issues with Chosen, the end of Buffy perfectly resovles the main character conflict of the series, and gives her an ending. By not giving Angel a concrete ending, and leaving him to fight, and presumably die, the theme of the series is once again stated. It's not the end result, whether you win or lose, it's the fight itself that matters. After signing away the Shanshu, Angel can never win, there's no end point in sight, just the same struggles. So, he decides that he will not be content with leaving the world the way it is, he's going to fight to make it better even if he dies doing so, and his group, each having gone through signficant pain over the course of the series, is there to do the same. Better to burn out than to fade away.

Related Posts
Twin Peaks and Buffy Essay (12/17/2004)
Angel (2/15/2005)
Joss Whedon Q&A (9/5/2005)

Far From Heaven

The film watching on break continued with today's screening of Far From Heaven. But before that, I also saw some other stuff that's worthy of comment.

A couple of days ago, I watched Maria, Full of Grace. This was a good movie, with a really intersting story that's well told, but it didn't engage me. The style is very verite, documentary-like, and it works for the story, but it's not that fun to watch. There's some nasty moments in the movie, specifically the swallowing the drugs scene. If this movie tells you one thing, it's don't be a drug mule, the process is not a pleasant one. I liked the ending, but as I said before, it's a good movie, just not one that hit me in any special way.

Then, I watched The Road Home, a film by Zhang Yimou, the director of Hero. Like Hero, this was a really beautiful film, with some great visual acting by Zhang Ziyi. She didn't have too many lines, but just through her facial expressions, you could understand everything she was going through and it was heartbreaking at times. The story is very simple, but it's in the telling of it that the film works, and it does work. I like the contrast of the color of the past to the black and white in the present, even though the message of the film, like in Hero, is a bit suspect. He seems to be saying that village life and the past are inherently better than more modern life, and I can't agree with that. But, that's more an issue surrounding the film than something about the merit of the film itself.

Yesterday, I watched eXistenZ by David Cronenberg, which wasn't particularly good. It had some cool ideas, and I liked the way he played out video game conventions with real people, but ultimately, the twist at the end didn't have much meaning because he hadn't created characters you care about. It felt like a really elaborate Twilight Zone that had material for a half hour, not a feature film. The film just wasn't made in an interesting way.

However, Far From Heaven was an amazing film, and one I could wholeheartedly embrace. The film is about the issue of racism and homosexuality in the 50s, but it's addressed through the cinematic language of Douglas Sirk, director of 50s melodrama and the man behind the adjective Sirkian.

While I've seen one of Sirk's films, Written on the Wind, I primarily know him secondhand, through the filmmaking of Rainer Werner Fassbinder, a great director behind the film, The Marriage of Maria Braun, and numerous others. He made the film Ali: Fear Eats the Soul, which was a loose remake of Sirk's All that Heaven Allows, and Todd Haynes' film is another take on the same story.

Ali: Fear Eats the Soul was a great film, and I can see a ton of parallels between that and Far From Heaven, most notably the bar scene, which is almost a direct rip. I think Haynes surpasses both Sirk and Fassbinder. He's got a better handle on character development and style than Fassbinder, and he has a freedom to deal with issues that Sirk didn't have. It's really interesting to see a film set in the 50s, and produced in a very strict classical Hollywood style dealing with racism and homosexuality in the way that people in the 50s did. There's no trace of modern attitudes in the film, but as the viewer, we clearly bring a more modern view and that can make it frustrating to watch the film. You don't want the characters to behave in the way they do because they seem like good people, but are flawed.



The relationship between Kathy and Raymond was the core of the film, and it's really well played. You can see why she's attracted to him, and also how the pressures of a racially divided society ultimately destory their hopes. Julianne Moore is one of the best actresses working today, and this is right up there with her best performances. It's very similar to her role in The Hours, but is played in a different way, because of her relationship with Raymond. She pulls off the right blend of 50s inspired acting and more emotionally realistic methods. Dennis Haysbert is surprisingly good as well, and I really felt for his character. His speech at the modern art show perfectly articulates the essential question of the film, and that's is it the surface that matters or what's beneath. Can you see past the surface to the essence of something?



In many ways the real star of this movie is the style. It's gorgeously stylized. I love how their living room always has a heavy blue light when the lights are off, perfectly setting the tone for scenes like the one where Frank slaps Kathleen. Color is really emphasized in the film, and is well integrated into the story with elements like the lilac scarf. The score is great, both imitating classical Hollywood scores, but doing it without the excess of those scores. It compliments the emotional content of scenes rather than overwhelming them.



I could see people who would look at this film and see it as a pointless exercise in homage. What is the point of so slavishly recreating someone's style of filmmaking? I think it does what remakes are supposed to do, but usually don't, and that's take the essence of a work and present in a new modern light, thus exposing previously unseen potential within the work. In this case, Sirk couldn't address prejudice like Haynes does here, and by aping the style of the 50s film, Sirk is able to make you better accept that people could hold these attitudes.

I think the film is one of the best statements against prejudice put on film because rather than telling you that these attitudes are wrong, it makes you feel just wrong they are. The fact that otherwise nice and respectable people can hold these attitudes just drives home how easy it is to be prejudiced, and makes you aware of prejudice's negative effects.

So, I loved this movie, I think it's deep, challening, and beautiful. It engages you as a viewer, and makes you work and think. That's what a film should do.

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Kubrick's Barry Lyndon

Spring break rocks on today as I watched Stanley Kubrick's Barry Lyndon. Most of Kubrick's later period films are very well known, 2001, A Clockwork Orange, The Shining, Full Metal Jacket and Eyes Wide Shut are all commonly known and pretty well thought of films, with the exception of Eyes Wide Shut, which is criminally underrated, and sadly thought of as softporn rather than the great film than it is. I hope in the future, the film will be rediscovered by critics and appreciated because it's a phenomenal film, #32 on my personal top 100 list.

But, regardless of their opinion, people still know the film, and that's something that can't really be said of Barry Lyndon, which seems to be sort of the lost film of Kubrick's late canon. The only thing I really knew about the film before seeing it was that it was directed by Kubrick and he developed new lighting for the film that would let him film scenes using just candlelight. Well, now having seen it, I think it joins Eyes Wide Shut as another very underrated film.

The film is a great companion piece to what I was talking about yesterday with Satyricon, in that it drops you into a completely alien world, with its own practices and rules that we gradually pick up on. For all I know, it's a realistic depiction of 1700s life, but it's a world with very different rules than our own, and over the course of the film, we gradually learn what these rules are. This is a place where emotions are kept extremely guarded, and our only guide to the characters emotion is the subtleties of their tone. This is a world where a sharp "Gentlemen" can be analagous to "Fuck you" as when Barry basicallly tells Lord Lyndon he wants him to die so he can marry his wife, witha simple 'Gentlemen.' It's very subtle, but that shouldn't be mistaken for a lack of character. This is a world where everything is beneath the surface, constrained behind ridiculous costumes and makeup.

It's notable that we never see Barry break down, even at the end of the film when he loses the duel, he doesn't express any sort of remorse, it's just something that happened, the rules of the society dictate what he has to do, and he can't break those rules. The dueling scenes best demonstrate the absurdity of the world. They think that a logical way to resolve disagreements is to stand ten paces away and shoot each other. There's a strong dwelling on the rules of the duel because it's something that seems so dumb, the rules give it a grounding in reality. They're all a prisoner of the restrictions of their society.

The only moment where we see Barry react is when he assaults Bullington after his long series of coded insults. It's satisfying to see Barry punching this guy because Bullington was clearly insulting him, and previously we've never seen someone actually do anything about being insulted. So, seeing Barry lash out here is both shocking and a relief.



I've been reading some reviews of the film, and a lot of them talk about how there's no character development, and I can't agree there. The characters have fully developed emotional lives, but they're all restricted by the rules of their society.

In most movies set in the past, I find the character interaction really unnatural. For all the visual splendor of something like Gladiator or Troy, the way they talk just isn't real. Here, rather than trying to have the people act like modern people, and just talk in the language of the past, Kubrick creates characters who actually come from a different world. That's why they seem so odd, but I completely got the story of Barry and what he went through. I feel like everyone is resigned to the fate they've been given and just drifts along. In the first half, Barry is the exception, with his social climbing and scheming, but in the second half, he is defeated and beaten down like everyone else. Lady Lyndon doesn't seem to do anything or feel anything, but I think it's actually that she's disappointed and trapped in her world, so she has drifted off into an odd haze where she spends her whole life.



If I can find one consistent theme in the film, it's that all the poorer people are alive because they're struggling to reach the level of the nobility, such as Nora's family when they're trying to marry her off to Quinn, or Barry's mother in the second half. However, the people who are actually nobility sort of detach from reality and engage in frivolous pleasures without ever really accomplishing anything.

The film is known primarily for its visuals, and it's an astonishing film. It's sucha rich world, full of atmosphere, and beauty. The costumes are really over the top, and convey the absurdity of the world. Kubrick is a master of framing, and pretty much every image in the film is striking and interesting. His direction isn't as obvious or present as someone like Wong Kar-Wai or Chan-wook Park, but each shot and cut are still very clearly motivated and exacting. The shooting by candlelight works well to enhance the reality of the scenes, and place you in the mindset of these people. At first, I was wondering why there were so many candles around, but I realized their only light was candles, if they didn't have those, it'd be completely dark, no light but the moon.

It is a long film, but I don't think anything should have been cut, it isn't slow paced, it's just there's a lot to cover. It would be possible to lose some of the stuff at the beginning, like his encounter with the German woman, or his fight in army camp, but those things add to the reality of the world, and if you try to streamline the film into what's absolutely essential, you lose the sense of this being a fully realized world, that which is the films greatest virtue.

So, I'd place this film third on my Kubrick ranking. I haven't seen everything he's done, but the ranking of what I've seen is:

1. 2001: A Space Odyssey
2. Eyes Wide Shut
3. Barry Lyndon
4. The Shining
5. Dr. Strangelove
6. A Clockwork Orange
7. Full Metal Jacket
8. Paths of Glory

I haven't seen Spartacus or Lolita, but I get the feeling he didn't become a real master until 2001, a film which besides being one of the greatest films of all time, marks a huge leap in terms of style for Kubrick. His earlier films have pretty coherent narratives, and are more about content than style. 2001 is definitely concerned with themes, but it doesn't have a very solid story. It's much more about using the medium to riff on something, really taking advantage of film itself as a storytelling medium.

I read an interview with Kubrick where he talks about how his later scripts aren't very detailed, and wouldn't be interesting to read, because he wasn't writing scripts, he was making films. The script is just a step, the quality of the film is ultimately decided by the direction and production team. A great script pretty much ensures a good film, but it takes something more than just a great script to make a great film, and in his later films, Kubrick clearly realizes this.

Like Wong Kar-Wai, he doesn't write a script and then film it, he goes in with an idea of the film in his head, and then tries to capture it as he goes along filming. This means he shoots for a long time, and the film evolves as he goes. Barry Lyndon shot for 300 days, which is brutal, and as time went on, Kubrick took even longer to make each film, notably with the twelve year gap between Full Metal Jacket and Eyes Wide Shut. Similarly, it took five years from the start of filming for Wong Kar-Wai to finish 2046.

I think this way of making a film makes a lot more sense than a traditional script. Shooting Ricky Frost, we first went for the dialogue, and the priority was to capture the dialogue, rather than to use the visuals to tell the story. That's why with the project I'm writing now, I'm going much looser, and plan to do a more detailed list of shots, rather than a traditional script. While this goes against the figure it out on set method of Kubrick and WKW, it's necessary, because I don't have people who are going to wait forever for me to figure out what I want to do. But, it's going to be a type of script more suited to film, rather than the format inherited from theater that most directors use.

Interestingly, Barry Lyndon touches on a lot of the same themes as A Clockwork Orange, but I think it's covered much better here. ACO is very obvious in its message about the way that society changes you. The conditioning stuff is great, but it's clearly allegorical, the average person isn't going to be confronted by something like that. Barry Lyndon takes the same themes, the way that society destroys the individuality of the average person, and does it in a much more subtle way, one that's relevant to everybody. Barry is molded into someone acceptable to high society just through the course of everyday events, in the same way that society molds every person into something they might not want to be today. If you don't assert your individuality, it's very easy to get sucked into a role within society, and after Barry gets what he thinks he wants at the end of Part I, we see the society he's living in destroy him in Part II. So, with A Clockwork Orange, Kubrick plants the idea of societal conditioning, then explores it further here in Barry Lyndon, in a much more everyday situation. While our world may be very different than Barry's, there are similar rules on how to behave, and to violate these rules leads to rejection. While our boundaries have changed, the same basic rules about what we can and can't say in 'polite conversation' persist, and everytime you have the "How are you doing?" "Good, and you" "Pretty good," exchange, you're inhibited by the same rules that inhibited Barry.



We never really meet Barry emotionally, there's no scene where he breaks down, or tells us how he feels because that would undermine Kubrick's point. These people can't be emotionally honest with each other, and the audience feels that same frustration. They have to become numb, because if they didn't, repressing those emotions would be too difficult, and they'd react violently, as Alex from ACO, Jack from The Shining or Gomer Pyle from Full Metal Jacket. When Barry does act out violently, he finds himself rejected from society, and as the film winds on, he becomes increasingly numb, such that losing his leg and being thrown out of his home at the end of the film is almost a relief.

Related Posts
2001: A Space Odyssey (7/1/2005)
The Shining (7/5/2005)

Satyricon

I'm on break, and no one else I know is home at present, so I've been watching a lot of movies. In the past two days, I've seen Casino, We Don't Live Here Anymore and Satyricon.

Casino was an entertaining movie, but it really felt like a weak echo of Goodfellas. Scorsese uses much of the same cast, the same co-writer and the same filmmaking style. This basically forces you to compare the two films, and Casino just doesn't stack up. Its story is all over, and it lacks the feeling of innovation that Goodfellas has, even fifteen years later. The film has music going in practically every scene, but Scorsese never really uses the music, it just plays along, under the action, and rarely comments on the scene its involved with. So, I liked it, but it's probably the weakest Scorsese film I've seen. Of his work that I have seen, I'd say Goodfellas and The Aviator are the best. It took me two viewings to really appreciate Goodfellas, but I don't think another viewing would improve Casino that much.



We Don't Live Here Anymore is notable for featuring two of David Lynch's ladies, Naomi Watts and Laura Dern, as well as Peter Krause, aka Six Feet Under's Nate, and Mark Ruffalo of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. So, this is a hell of a cast, but it's a movie that never quite comes together. The opening sequence is really striking, but for most of the movie, the characters just argue with each other, but unlike in, say, Six Feet Under or Buffy, you don't care about these characters, so watching them argue isn't that interesting. If this sort of stuff was happening with characters you cared about, it'd be riveting, but here, it doesn't quite make it. The acting is great though, and there's some very cool editing moments.



So, that brings us to Satyricon, by Federico Fellini. I watched 8 1/2 by him a few weeks ago, and it was great. I thought it was a pretty odd film, but this film goes way beyond it. People always say stuff like "It's a one of a kind film" or call films weird, and normally I don't agree, but this was a very weird and unique film. It's a film that challenges the viewer, but also puts you in a world where pretty much anything is acceptable, a world where morality doesn't apply, so you might be put off by what's going on, but the characters don't question it.



The mcguffin of this film is when Ascilto steals Encolpio's slave boy, Gitone, and sells him to an actor. Encolpio is in love with this slave boy, and the film makes no comment on the morality of this. You just have to accept that his quest to have a life with this boy is ok if you're going to enjoy the film. I was a little confused at first when no one seemed to question him, but it's ultimately just a way to get things started, and his quest is forgotten as the film continues.

After a little bit of watching, I was a bit disappointed that this movie didn't have the dream cut ins from 8 1/2. But, after a while, I realize that the entire film is like a dream. It just moves from one episode to another, and you're not really sure how you got there. There were moments, like when Encolpio is fighting a minotaur when I tried to think of what happened to get us to this point and I couldn't remember. We just ended up there somehow, and you can't really question it. Trying to find a coherent narrative in the film is a great challenge. Encolpio gets carried along, sometimes disappearing from the film, only to return a few minutes later after a little episode involving someone else occurs.

The most notable stylistic thing about the film for me was how Fellini constantly had the extras looking at the camera. There were these huge crowd scenes, and he'd move around the place, only to wind up with some strangely made up person staring directly at the camera. This is in some ways a Brechtian technique to emphasize the artificiality of the film world, but it doesn't take you out of the story, so much as draw you into it. It's like these people are asking what you think of what's going on, as if you're really there. It was freaking me out, because these people were just staring, like they were waiting for me to do something.

This was a movie that, despite not having much of a plot, was never boring. I got completely sucked into the world of the film and sort of drifted along, seeing this bizarre world that Fellini created. He described it as a science fiction film, but the alien civilization is Rome before Christianity, and that's accurate. This feels like a completely different world, and the film has more in common with Gilliam's Time Bandits than Gladiator.

Visually, the film is extremely rich. There's a lot of huge crowd scenes, and all the extras are made up in really odd ways. The sets are gorgeous, and there's a lot of bizarre occurrences on them. Also, everyone has the 60s ring around the eyes makeup, which I'm a big fan of.



The ending of the movie was oddly abrupt, but appropriate. Fellini just throws you out of the world, and you see the remnants of it on the beach, in the form of the mosaics. You're there, pondering what has happened, and realizing that the movie wasn't really going anywhere, it was what it was, just moments from a world that's gone. I loved the film, I think it really works as sort of a harder edged version of the typical 80s fantasy movie, and just as a really strange dreamlike journey of its own. 8 1/2 I really liked, but it went on a little too long, this one did not.

So, that was a top notch film. I've got La Dolce Vita on hold, so that'll be my next Fellini.

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8 1/2 (2/19/2005)

Endings

I feel like recently, and in the next few months, there's been a lot of endings. I've had a lot of series running along, that I'm partway through, and they all seem to be coming to a close now. Last week, I read the end of Promethea, something I started in senior year of high school, and had read sporadically over the years. It was a series I loved, and one of the few unread masterpieces I've had in comics.

In addition to that, I'm right now watching the final Buffyverse DVD box set, Angel season five. Buffy isn't something I've been watching that long, compared to others, but it still hurts to know that I'll (probably) never have another new DVD from the series. Then, later this year Six Feet Under ends. This is one of my favorite TV shows, and with that finished, only the last season of The Sopranos remains as an outstanding unfinished series. I love watching 24, Lost and The OC, but none of those series come close to how good Six Feet, The Sopranos, or last year's cancelled Angel was.

And right now, I'm also finishing up The Dark Tower book series. This is something I've been reading for a long time, like five years, and am 300 pages from the end of the last book. It's been another one of these incomplete stories that is finally being completed.

And then in May, the biggest incomplete thread is finally wrapped up when the final Star Wars movie is released. I saw the original Star Wars back in the 80s and have been waiting for this story for over 15 years. To finally see what happens is going to put a rest to speculation, and provide a finale to one of the dominant stories of my life. Those movies have had such an influence over me, to know that 'the circle is now complete' and I'll never have another first Star Wars experience is pretty sad, but also good, because I'm hoping it's going to be a great movie.

I feel like the end of a long TV or comic series, where they have to start tying up all the loose ends. All these endings I was waiting for are finally arriving, and after The Sopranos closes up in 2006, I don't think there's going to be any sort of long term story that I'm waiting for a conclusion on. A couple of years ago I had all the stuff mentioned above, plus Angel, Lord of the Rings, The Matrix, New X-Men and more. Now, everything's getting wrapped up, which probably means I've got to branch out and find some new series, new stories to enjoy, but that gets more and more difficult. I know in comics for a long time, I had a seemingly endless supply of stuff to look at, in terms of long run series, but lately, I've had a bit of a struggle to even find the new Preacher, let alone the new Sandman or Watchmen. I suppose the current run of Vertigo books, like Fables and Y: The Last Man, could yield something down the line, but I definitely feel like I covered most of the great comics.

Same in TV, there's a couple of shows I still want to check out, but I feel like I've seen most of the great stuff that's out there. But, that just means I have to be more diligent in looking for stuff. Same in movies, I've found most of what is easy to find and enjoy, I have to look deeper and find stuff that's not as easily accessible, but might still be great, like Spaced or Cowboy Bebop.

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Promethea: Until the End of the World (24-32) (2/27/2005)
Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith (5/20/2005)
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