this one's for you, chad

What, me worry?

What if Wes Anderson (and Kevin Smith and John Woo) directed a political attack ad?

Bottle Rocket, a review, or how to besmirch Wes Anderson (and his fans)

"The principle that the more we produce the better is in itself a value judgment."
-Erich Fromm

*DISCLAIMER*

This is my first posting ever on a blog. I may offend your taste in film, judge you and others silently, and even at times find myself in a passive aggressive mood when writing my reviews. This very well may be my first and last posting on this blog.



I've just recently came to realize that Wes Anderson films are like Pringles, "once you pop you can't stop", and Gen-X&Y'ers are eating his films up like 2 Girls with 1 Cup. Did I just say you enjoy eating shit? Well yes, and no, and strictly in a cinematic sense. Today's climate for independent cinema, with the advent of Netflix, has turned the entire nation into "film lovers", true appreciators and purveyors of cinema, but half of them have never read a theorist like Benjamin or had the pleasure of licking 16mm film to tell the difference between base and emulsion side. It's true we're all critics, but are we all experts as well?

Today, I'll be discussing Mr. Anderson's Bottle Rocket and other stuff about his films and his fans. Quite profound, huh? I don't think so either.

Where do I begin? With his first film, one would say, but it's not even in the Criterion collection! That's a hell of a start, based on that mere fact alone, and also that some of Mr. Anderson's fans still think his first film is Rushmore. Perhaps not, thanks to the internet, but it is likely that most will claim Bottle Rocket as their least favorite film. It must also be noted, that I will never purchase a film from the Criterion collection. Hell, I own less than ten films, half of which are on VHS, and the other two are films my friends produced. Does the size of my collection, or lack thereof reflect so deeply on my comprehension and love of film? I think not. In fact, I sold all of the films I owned when I graduated from film school, and my television and VCR too. I probably couldn't even tell you the cinematographer of my favorite film, so I guess you should stop reading this right now and put back on that episode of Heroes your watching online.

Another blog was so bold to call Mr. Anderson polarizing. Is he our generation's Woody Allen? Maybe, though not quite as brilliant as Woody in my opinion, and his films indeed do divide his fans from non-fans on quantifiable socio-cultural levels of "hipster" proportions in regards to one's taste in film. Let me count the ways.

Mr. Anderson admits when speaking with Charlie Rose that his films are probably viewed most by misfits and "outsiders." That lunatic fringe who are so detached that they're probably the only ones who'll get his work. It seems he's trying desperately to identify with his fans, but is that so Mr. Anderson? Then why would you be so solicitous as to appear in an AMEX ad? I know Scorcese did it, but how many misfits and "outsiders" do you know that have an AMEX? I'll tell you. Not fucking many! Define that paradox for yourself, and you might stand a chance of swallowing down the rest of this piece. I'm not truly without pathos in regards to this matter, as one of my favorite directors (Kevin Smith) whored himself out to Samsung several years ago, but at least Smith admits he's a a publicity whore. He released a two disc set on his college speaking tours for crap's sake. There's no shame in that, at least not when you admit you're a press whore, so kudos to you Mr. Smith. Filmmakers, though often commercialized based on the success of their films in the box office, should refrain from such banality, and keep some semblance of integrity by saving their whoreish solicitation to their DVD commentaries. Unless you're Kevin Smith that is.

Back to Mr. Anderson. You either "get" his films, or you don't. It's just that simple. I'm sure he would agree. There is no middle ground, and in essence they're all the same film. Hell, he even welcomes it, and might I say on a highly pretentious note. Wes, you can't think of any directors who are capable of having their characters traverse into other films they have directed. Really? Let me help you with that one. Woody Allen, Kevin Smith, David Cronenberg, and John Hughes are just a few directors you could start with.

Yet, his fans continue to be smitten with his work, but I guess they don't mind or perhaps see the plasticity of it all if there's some brilliant dolly or crane shot with at least one of the Wilson brothers in it. The fandom that follows is quite sickening. These Fanderson's, as I'll call them from here on out, pretentiously flaunt their bogus trendy fashions on the web, and lay claim to having a cine-savvy mind capable of dissecting and truly appreciating his films from a perspective of artistic sensibility you obviously don't have. Save me the retort. I must continue. Relying heavily upon a contentious and mainstream mind to debate, they will question your taste in film, and will probably bring up Amelie, Broken Flowers, and films by PT Anderson to bring home their point. So be warned of their felonious rhetoric, feel no shame in not "getting or liking Wes Anderson films, and try not to indulge your desire to twist their heads from their necks like a dandelion in summer. They're misfits after all, and will be expecting this type of behavior.

As for my review of Bottle Rocket, I'll be brief in my summation, and will try and be eloquent. This is by far the film I most identify with, and is the first film that sensationalizes characters and story lines. Dignan's 75-year plan, his sophmoric criminal mind, and Anthony's love interest with the hispanic motel maid is only just the beginning. Anderson fans had no idea they'd soon be meeting a misguided savant teen, Max is based heavily on Wes's youth, a family of geniuses in his next film, and a quirky oceanographer in his fourth film. I've yet to see The Darjeeling Limited, and still am hesitant in doing so. Regardless, Bottle Rocket is poetically cinematic, many of the scenes are constituted with long master shots that grind that narratives pace to a crawl. The film does not rely heavily upon dolly, crane or jib shots to move the plot line like his other films, and I miss that in his later films. If only we could keep Wes from big budgets and fancy equipment, we might have had another Jarmusch on our hands, but then Jarmusch is much better are breathing life into stereotypical archetypes. Watch Night on Earth or Down by Law, and you might begin to see where I'm coming from.

I've just grown tired of Owen and Wes creating the same formulaic film, the cartoonish characters no longer speak to me, and I can only imagine the three-ring-circus that will be his movie adaptation of Roald Dahl's "The Fantastic Mr. Fox."

Joaquin's 10 Greatest Narrative Films of the 21st Century (so far, of course)

1. Talk to Her (2002) - I can never decide if All About My Mother or this film is my favorite Almodóvar. One thing is certain by a small margin: Talk to Her is his masterpiece, Spain’s enfant terrible at his most subtle, graceful and mysterious. He can take a rape, make its intentions come from love and deliver it to an audience so earnestly that we never question whether or not the criminal is a good person. We are convinced he is nothing short of an angel. That’s bold. That’s dangerous. That’s masterful storytelling. Almodóvar has an effortless control over this film that remains unmatched in his work, an auteur who listens to the organic heart of a story and then follows with his direction. His confidence and consistency make him the greatest European filmmaker of today.

2. Punch-Drunk Love (2002) - Paul Thomas Anderson exalted Philip Baker Hall in Hard Eight, made us pay attention to Mark Wahlberg in Boogie Nights and in Magnolia gave Tom Cruise the rare chance to personify the misogyny his franchise perpetuates. Now the comedic mogul Adam Sandler plays the loner, misfit angry man he always has, yet this time it’s heartbreaking. The harmonic forces of a blonde woman persistent to get a date, a peculiar small piano, a trail of pudding leading to Hawaii and brilliantly functional cinematography collide to save Barry Egan from himself. Equal parts Adam Sandler romantic comedy, New Wave and Warner Bros cartoon, Punch-Drunk Love is a breath of fresh air in our cynic-ruled climate. Simply put, it makes me believe in true love again.

3. In the Mood for Love (2000) - The language of this film defies time. I’m convinced if one were to watch every shot in reverse order (or any, for that matter), it would remain the same film and may perhaps even improve. It’s all about its tenor, that aching, bittersweet yearning for someone you have enough love and respect for to leave alone... or perhaps not. Do Mr. Chow and Mrs. Chan consummate their affair? Wong Kar-Wai keeps this mystery preserved, creating an ageless, amorous, microcosmic enigma that easily earns its place among the greatest love stories ever told. So far and for good reason, In the Mood for Love is the only 21st century film to make the coveted “gold list” in Paul Schrader’s monumental effort to establish a true film canon.

4. Brokeback Mountain (2005) - Finally, the gays have their Gone With the Wind, their Titanic, and their place in the Hollywood conscience. Ang Lee’s approach to a closeted gay cowboy love story is stubbornly classical and abides by all the rules. This is precisely what makes Brokeback Mountain unique. For better or for worse, all the conventions and platitudes of heterosexual romance movies can now belong to Queer Cinema. This is exactly what we needed: an established, popular director to make a movie that grabs the attention of the masses and proves to them any form of love is valid and more in common with their own than they are lead to believe. It’s a miracle how good this film really is and how well it was received.

5. Dogville (2003) – Lars von Trier takes down the U.S. in a single blow with the first installment of his America trilogy. Dogville is long overdue karma, a scathing indictment of our small town mentality and exploitative disregard for the immigrant. Stripping away all the aesthetic fluff of narrative film shows what really matters is performance, which become all the more revelatory in their isolation from one another. This film is a sickening and engrossing Brechtian science experiment, similar to observing scared lab rats negotiate their way through a maze. Von Trier solely and justifiably bases this nightmarish vision on the imperialist media we are so hell bent on spreading worldwide. A foreign POV on the hypocritical myths we champion proves both refreshing and humiliating.

6. Children of Men (2006) – Kubrick’s 2001 and this film are the only science fiction movies that truly terrify me. Alfonso Cuarón gets the future right in Children of Men better than most filmmakers. Devoid of the genre clichés of flying cars, elaborate cityscapes and electronic gadgets galore, the future is accurately portrayed as our crumbling present day world suffocated by LCD and plasma screens advertising a government endorsed suicide. The ceasing of human reproduction often feels like the only fictional element of the film. All the violence, panic and desperation running rampant throughout possess a Direct Cinema quality most documentary filmmakers can only dream of. Cuarón’s vision of a rapidly disintegrating world in chaos is a plausible prophecy I can buy.

7. Far From Heaven (2002) - Todd Haynes’s tribute to Douglas Sirk is so faithful it hurts. Every detail is just right, from the blood-orange, Connecticut autumn leaves down to the aqua trim tablecloths. Watching Far From Heaven is a visual feast, a lesson in how far we’ve come and how far we still have to go. And in true Hollywood melodrama fashion, the film is borderline psychotic. I’m madly in love with the Sirk aesthetic for all its garishly masked melancholy, its emotional alliance with Earth’s seasons and its heroines caught between a rock and a hard place. Melodrama is a tricky business, understandably shunned as misleading and banal. But when done right as in this film, I can only afterwards sigh and wonder when and where my Rock Hudson or Dennis Haysbert will find me.

8. The Royal Tenenbaums (2001) – A stickler for details, Anderson is something of a nerdy alchemist obsessed with concocting the perfect grandiose vision only equal to the sum of its boundlessly diverse parts. The Royal Tenenbaums is a children’s storybook come to life, full of pretentious and wondrous archetypes who persist in staying locked in their failed dreams, crippled by their own shortcomings. At the end of the opening prologue, a young Richie Tenenbaum sets his hawk Mordecai free to the crescendo of “Hey Jude,” sending out an SOS for help from his family’s sinking battleship of squandered potential. How curious, classic and medieval a bird in flight over a New York skyline can become. For me, this is the most touching moment in Wes Anderson’s oeuvre.

9. The Incredibles (2004) - When Brad Bird and Pixar get together, I surrender to the so-called CGI revolution. I care about the Parr family. I understand their battle for and against familial conformity. I too want to be the greatest superhero dad in the world. All this from synthetic layers of shading, morphing and rendering? You bet. Most CGI cartoons stay afloat with gag after gag of endless pop-cultural references while Brad Bird’s visions strive for a real connection with our humanity. The likes of Shrek and Beowulf miss the mark entirely. The Incredibles is a prime example of how the instrument can only serve the artist, in this case the sharpest animation studio reaching its full potential in the hands of a master cartoon storyteller. CGI never felt so good.

10. Half Nelson (2006) – The setup is pure Disney: white, middle class basketball coach serves as guiding light to inner-city junior high students. The end result, however, is anything but. More naturally than most films, Half Nelson captures what it means to be stuck. All characters are imbued with an equivalent sense of anguish, the role of guru in constant flux between a coach with a drug habit, the drug dealer who indirectly feeds his problem and the at-risk adolescent girl they both want to save. This film balances the playing field within narrative territory typically forged for easy didacticism, forcing us to empathize with equally beaten citizens. Pious authority has no place here, only an unpretentious, surprising look at people reckoning how to break the hold their circumstances have them in.