Friday night I went out to the 2012 LA Asia Pacific Film Festival with Byron and David (Charlie in BANG BANG) to see Valley of Saints, the festival’s Int’l Centerpiece Gala film. This thing won the World Cinema Audience Award: Dramatic and split the Alfred P. Sloan Feature Film Prize at Sundance, as well as appearing in a ton of world-class film festivals internationally.

It takes place in Dal Lake, an important environmental and cultural asset in the beautiful Kashmir region of Northwest India. A large population of people live in and around the lake, which dominates the activities of their daily lives. It tells the tale of Gulzar, a young working class tourist boatman, as he navigates not only the waters of Dal Lake, but his own relationship to it and to his community living there. He and his best friend Afzal plot to leave Kashmir for the lights of the big city, hoping to leave the poverty and war of Kashmir behind them. Meanwhile, Asifa, a young woman scientist, comes to the lake village to study its increasingly polluted waters. An unlikely relationship blooms between her and Gulzar, putting into clearer focus his true desires and place in life.

Valley of Saints is a gorgeous, poetic, moving narrative feature debut for writer/director Musa Syeed, a Kashmiri-American, who puts his documentary background to good use. It was shot guerilla style with a skeleton crew (producer running sound!) and first time actors on a Canon 5D. What a true testament to guerilla filmmaking; the production value and cinematography rivals many films of huger budgets, more expensive cameras, and bigger crews. In many ways, all of the parts of this film: the locale, the director (and his relationship to his ethnic homeland), the actors, guerilla filmmaking, all came together in a very specific way to create this very specific work.

Valley of Saints is one of those great cinematic gems: a simple story told simply and elegantly without getting bogged down by its own plot, yet multifaceted in its themes and subjects. It is about love, loss, friendship, responsibility, community, personal identity, family, the environment, living in civil unrest and the waters of Dal Lake. Highly recommended. See the trailer below.

The San Diego Asian Film Festival & Halloween weekend destroyed me. But still my roommate and I, sick as a dog, walked over to Arclight and watched Anonymous, directed by Roland Emmerich.

Anonymous dramatizes the Prince Tudor Theory (Specifically Prince Tudor II Theory, more on that later), an alternate literary theory contending that the true source of William Shakespeare’s works isn’t from the mind of Shakespeare at all, but Edward de Vere, 17th Earl of Oxford. This theory also contends that de Vere had an affair with Queen Elizabeth I, leading to the birth of Henry Wriothesley, 3rd Earl of Southampton. Wriothesley is thought by many to be the “Fair Youth.” in Shakespeare’s Sonnets. Anonymous weaves these theories into an Elizabethan political thriller of the succession of the Crown that parallels the writings of William Shakespeare.

I wont bog you down with literary/historical facts and theories, which is kind of an inherent problem with a film like this. It’s hard to be really invested in the political and literary intrigue without already being interested in Elizabethan and Shakespearean politics, literature, and theory. Personally, while I admire Shakespeares work, I never identified with it and the Elizabethan era was boring to me in school. So that already hampered my experience with the film; having to keep track of who is who, and why they’re important. And they are important, as the film is littered with real-life political and literary figures of the day, each playing an important role in revealing the true nature of the origin of Shakespeare’s works (The historical William Shakespeare is depicted as an illiterate jackass actor).

I went into the film knowing that Emmerich is known for directing movies like Godzilla, 2012, 10,000 BC and Independence Day, so I’m expecting lavish and epic treatment of the subject matter. For one thing, if you’re doing a period drama and your costuming and production design is on point, you’re gonna have, at the very least, a beautiful looking film. Emmerich doesn’t disappoint in this department. Wardrobe is lush and beautiful (some of de Vere’s outfits were boss as hell, I wouldn’t mind one of his capes), as is his depiction of Royal Court life. The streets of London were believably gritty and sweeping cityscapes gave a nice look into past England (romanticized, no doubt). There were a couple of nice moments with cinematography (the theatre, scenes in de Vere’s hedgemaze), but otherwise pretty standard.

The acting fell a little flat. Disappointing, considering what was at stake (love, aristocratic status, family, the Crown of England); but I did enjoy Vanessa Redgrave’s Queen Elizabeth and Edward Hogg’s Robert Cecil.

[SPOILERS] Like similar movies, some historical fact was fiddled with to create a dramatic story. But, at the end, the writers of Anonymous decided to evoke their own version of the Prince Tudor PART II theory, in which Edward de Vere is himself the ILLEGITIMATE SON of Elizabeth I, committing (unknowingly, in the film) incest with his own mother, so that de Vere is the FATHER AND HALF-BROTHER of Wriothesley, Earl of Oxford, while Elizabeth his both his MOTHER AND GRANDMOTHER. And, according to Robert Cecil, de Vere was meant to be groomed to be the future King of England, but he was too busy writing plays and poems, bankrupting his investments, screwing his mom and generally being a fuck-up for a man of his station. So if de Vere wasn’t Shakespeare, he could have been the king. But there doesn’t seem to be a reason for this twist; the plot and the characters’ motivations would have stayed more or less the same. The only reason it seems to be included is for the one-two punch of: BAM! You slept with your mom! Oh yeah and BAM! You could have been King, but (in the words of Robert Cecil) “you were you.”

In short: visually and conceptually interesting, satisfying seeing the historical Shakespeare as a jackass, sometimes barely graspable plotline (with a questionable twist), ‘eh’ acting/undeveloped characters, more fun for Shakespeare/Elizabethan heads. But enjoyable.

I went and saw Gus Van Sant’s newest, Restless, on Saturday.  I’m not hugely knowledgeable on his body of work, but I remember Van Sant from his success in both indie/arthouse and mainstream venues (My Own Private Idaho, Good Will Hunting, Elephant, Milk); so after a good burger and a couple of beers from down the street, I walked into the theatre with a belly full of high hopes.

Restless is a story of two teens: Enoch (Henry Hopper) is a survivor of a car crash that took the lives of his parents; he likes to crash funerals. Annabel (Mia Wasikowska) is a terminal cancer patient that is given 3 months to live. The two fall in love. Ok, I didn’t know this was the synopsis of the movie, alright? I might have given it a second thought if I had known this. So its obviously some overtly tearjerker material.

The movie starts and my companion says, “its sort of like Juno.” Oh no. She’s right. Enoch and Annabel are hopelessly chic and quirky in their vintage wear and Van Sant seems more interested in this forced whimsy, referencing 60s French cinema and the Roaring 20s than in their character development, as Enoch devolves into a wretched Holden Caufield-type character who cannot face what he has fetishized. Van Sant basically uses all the other characters as a way for him to get over the death of his parents, Annabel being some kind of helpless radiant sacrificial lamb.

The film plods along, clunky with its sugariness, until Enoch has supposedly redeemed himself. After a ghost puts him in the hospital. Oh yeah, his best friend is the ghost of a Kamikaze pilot. Should have seen Moneyball instead.

Rise of the Planet of the Apes. OK, first things first. So to be honest, I wasn’t expecting too much going into this, but I had heard some good things from random friends about this movie. As long as it isn’t related at all to the post 2000+ Tim Burton/Mark Wahlberg travesties, I thought. But good enough to watch while catching up with an old friend after grilling up some steaks, chillin on a couple PBRs and burnin some trees.

Actually, the movie is quite satisfying. Like many “disaster” (for lack of a better word) movies, the plotline builds on itself faster and faster, getting top heavy and cartwheeling climactically over and over again. In this case, the story of how the decline of man and rise of the ape began, In the Planet of the Apes saga.

[SPOILERS] Apes did this in a comically gratifying way. Cesar, and later the apes he recruits in his army, become smarter and smarter, and do crazier and more human-like things, lead us all into this inevitable march of their gained intelligence and capabilities. This leads to a lot of OH SHIT situations. My friends and I said that and laughed several times during our viewing: ‘OH SHIT HE SPOKE’ ‘OH SHIT HE’S BECOMING A DICTATOR’ ‘OH SHIT THEY HAVE SPEARS’ ‘OH SHIT HE’S RIDING A HORSE’ All they needed was Cesar learning to use a gun. Franco’s reaction when Cesar speaks to him is priceless: HUWHATTT???

James Franco’s Freaks and Geeks slacker vibe carries through into the movie, making him an odd choice for a brilliant workaholic scientist character. Also, John Lithgow was only really comprehensible for about 20 minutes of the movie. No, not just because his character has Alzheimer’s, but his portrayal of it was odd and cartoonish. Then there was Caroline, played by Freida Pinto, who’s character was so throw-away that I had to look up what her name was. Obviously stuck in there as a love interest device which really has no effect on how the plot unfolds. But I guess at least she has brains and beauty. And she’s pretty much the only female character in the movie. (Except for the Orangutang… I kept getting the feeling that it was a ‘she’)

Anyway all in all, it’s a good summer popcorn-munching flick. You get exactly what you want out of it: monkeys getting smart and crazy, riveting action sequences, displays of super powerful animal power, even a ‘Get your filthy paws off me you damn dirty ape!’ quote. You’ll have fun.

(Image from Wikipedia)

I’m sure most of you have heard of Terrence Malick’s Tree of Life, which opened at Cannes to extreme mixed reactions, even some boos, but on the whole, critics have been raving about it. Just read some reviews by some prominent critics: “sublime,” “poetic,” “extraordinary,” are just some of the adjectives that’ve been thrown around. Anyway, it went on to win Canne’s Palme d’Or.

I went out the other night with a friend to our local Laemmle Theatre to watch it, and wow. There’s a lot to talk about here. I’ll try not to lose myself in this. And forgive me if it starts to fall apart a little towards the end.

Malick’s undertaking is ambitious; he is working on themes of metaphysical levels and challenges the audience from beginning to end with very loose narrative structure, unconventional cinematography, and a combination of editing and imagery verging on the surreal. The film revolves around these central elements:

• An man, Jack O’Brien (played by Sean Penn), seemingly adrift in life, coming to terms with his relationship with his family, especially with his father (Brad Pitt), and the death of his brother.
• The profoundness of existence in each moment human life, as told through flashbacks Jack of growing up with his brothers and Catholic, Texan family in the 1950s.
• Strange, organic landscapes seeming to represent Jack’s memory or psyche. (Symbolic travel to a state of contentment/peace with his past?)
• All juxtaposed with open-ended montages depicting the endless epic march of Universe and Time.

Yeah. Heavy.

Malick has always been invested in using narratives revolving around strife and nature as a backdrop to explore existential internal spaces, notably in the form of voiceover. For example, in Thin Red Line, he uses both the ruckus and the calm in a WWII battle to constantly invite the audience into the heads of various characters as they ruminate on their perilous existence, and of keeping their humanity in the face of horror. These voiceovers are always in the form of eloquent, soliloquy-like verse, far removed from the normal speech and dialect of the characters, suggesting that we aren’t hearing just their brain thinking, but rather something coming from deeper within (or beyond?) their psyche. Here’s a good quote illustrating his style of filmmaking (you can tell he’s a fan):

Those rambling philosophical voiceovers; the placid images of nature, offering quiet contrast to the evil deeds of men; the stunning cinematography, often achieved with natural light; the striking use of music—here is a filmmaker with a clear sensibility and aesthetic who makes narrative films that are neither literary nor theatrical, in the sense of foregrounding dialogue, event, or character, but are instead principally cinematic, movies that suggest narrative, emotion, and idea through image and sound.¹

Malick’s auteurship is palpable. He goes far beyond his explorations in the past; disregarding narrative convention and delving deep into the tiniest, intimate, and internal moments while meditating on epic, rolling, unstoppable spaces of both the microscopic and cosmic; realms he describes using pure emotion, color, shape, and sond. The loves, tragedies, everyday mundane trials of the O’Brien family and Jack’s childhood are treated with the same epic wondrous, but fleeting, tone, swept up with soaring chords of classical music and absolutely beautiful, constantly energetic cinematography.

This is paired, accompanied by majestic classical music, with mysterious images of nebulous shapes, movements and patterns connoting microscopic activity, leading to imagery of actual nebulas, planets, and planetary systems. The unstoppable, glacial movements of Time, Matter, and the Universe. The abstracted use of shape and color in these montages reminded me of the experimental filmmaking of Stan Brackage at times. By pairing the two together, and treating them with the same awe and grandiose reverence, Malick turns the fleeting experiences of this family into miracles of existence that are a microcosm of the cosmical monumentality that is the formation and evolution of the Universe (and perhaps the Divine).

Whoa.

If it helps, I am reminded of the scene at the end of Chapter VII in the graphic novel great, Watchmen, when Dr. Manhattan realizes the value of humanity and human life as Laurie comes to terms with her new-found knowledge of her biological origins:

“… they pulled a gag on me is what they did!
My whole life’s a joke. One, big, stupid, meaningless… aw shit…”

“I don’t think your life’s meaningless.”

“… uh…
You don’t? [… ] But… why?”

“Thermo-dynamic miracles… events with odds against so astronomical they’re effectively impossible, like oxygen spontaneously becoming gold. I long to observe such a thing.
And yet, in each human coupling, a thousand million sperm vie for a single egg. Multiply those odds by countless generations, against the odds of your ancestors being alive; meeting; siring this precise son; that exact daughter … until your mother loves a man she has every reason to hate, and of that union, of the thousand million children competing for fertilization, it was you, only you, that emerged.
To distill so specific a form from that chaos of improbability, like turning air into gold… that is the crowning of unlikelyhood.
The thermo-dynamic miracle.”

“But… if me, my birth, if that’s a thermodynamic miracle… I mean, you could say that about anybody in the world.”

“Yes.
Anybody in the world.
… But the world is so full of people, so crowded with these miracles that they become commonplace and we forget…
I forget.
We gaze continually at the world and it grows dull in our perceptions. Yet seen from another’s vantage point, as if new, it may still take the breath away.
Come… dry your eyes, for you are life, rarer than a quark and unpredictable beyond the dreams of Heisenberg; the clay in which the forces that shape all things must leave their fingerprints most clearly.”²

This is what Malick wants the audience to see. The miracle of life that encapsulates all of the energy, matter, time that somehow came together to make our singular experiences. Yet, these singular experiences spring from the same source. If a lot of this sounds kinda like Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, you’re not alone. Both films deal with similar metaphysical/existential themes of comparing human experience with the eternity of the cosmos, using open-ended surreal imagery and soaring classical music. In fact, I was constantly reminded of Space Odyssey throughout. Here’s Roger Ebert gushing over Tree of Life, and another quote regarding the use of music in Kubrick’s Odyssey:

The Tree of Life is a film of vast ambition and deep humility, attempting no less than to encompass all of existence and view it through the prism of a few infinitesimal lives. The only other film I’ve seen with this boldness of vision is Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey and it lacked Malick’s fierce evocation of human feeling. ³

I guess you can say there’s a little more Humanism in Malick’s existentialism than Kubrick’s.

[The rejected] score, […] [was] a good job of film composition, but would have been wrong for 2001 because, like all scores, it attempts to underline the action — to give us emotional cues. The classical music chosen by Kubrick exists outside the action. It uplifts. It wants to be sublime; it brings a seriousness and transcendence to the visuals.⁴

All in all, the film was an overwhelming experience, I and respect Malick for undertaking this project of outstanding proportions.

What made my movie watching partner and I incredulous, though, was the direction of the montages showing the cosmos. What you eventually realize is what you’re seeing is a depiction of the Big Bang. That is all well and fine, but my eyebrow was raising further and further as we see young Earth developing continents, life and organisms begin to develop, and then…
DINOSAURS.
Yes, dinosaurs. Emotive, pensive ones at that. You can see how thoughtful CGIed dinosaurs appearing in the middle of this film might have thrown me out of the movie a bit. I can see that he was trying to treat them in the most unsilliest way possible, but I laughed. My friend laughed. Also, something about realizing that I was watching the development of life on Earth made it… I don’t know… preachy and heavy handed. I enjoy trying to figure out what the director is doing during the film, rather than being told. With the tone of awe and mystery surrounding the whole film, ambiguous imagery less specific to Earth seems more appropriate. The Earth is too familiar to us, and it felt like I was watching Planet Earth or something from a high school science class during some points.

Oh, and speaking of heavy handed. Dude was HEAVY HANDED. Understand that with an auteur dealing with material this extreme, you have to be a little bit. Some symbolism was just too blunt. Too obvious really cramps your poetic style.

Also, something I hadn’t even thought about during the movie but was pointed out to me afterwards by my friend, who said that as a woman, it was hard for her to identify with the three brothers growing up. I guess with such a lack of narrative, the motives behind some actions were lost on her. A kid with anger problems is what she saw.

Ok. Thats it. You should watch it. You may or may not enjoy it, but you’ll be left with a memorable and thought provoking piece. If anything, watching that film effected me so much, it drove me to write this. Look, I even made a bibliography.

- James

PS: Be on the look out for more reviews like this.

(Image from Wikipedia)
1. A Stitch in Time: Chris Wisniewski on Terrence Malick’s Days of Heaven and The New World at Reverse Shot
2. [Moore, Alan. (w), Dave Gibbons (p), and John Higgins (i).] “Chapter VII: Old Ghosts.” Watchmen. NY: DC Comics, 1987: 26-28.
3. “The Tree of Life”. Chicago Sun Times (Chicago). June 2, 2011.
Roger Ebert. “2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)”. Chicago Sun-Times.