Month: June 2014

By Joe Bendel. Transrealism is a sub-genre of science fiction in which the author frequently appears as a character in their own work, freely melding the fantastical and the autobiographical. The style has several proponents, but they are all largely swimming in Philip K. Dick’s wake. Amongst his most transreal works were his VALIS trilogy and a related posthumous novel. While many Dick novels have been loosely adapted for the screen, the courageous John Alan Simon took a shot at a comparatively faithful take on the more self-contained latter novel. Things will get all kinds of transreal in Simon’s Radio Free Albemuth, which opens this Friday in New York.

In this alternate world, America is a crypto-fascist state, but ironically there is less intrusive surveillance afoot than under the Obama Administration. President (for life) Ferris F. Fremont (FFF = 666) continues to be re-elected despite his bizarre campaign against “Aramcheck,” a supposed shadowy cabal of Soviet sleeper agents still conspiring against the country, years after the fall of Communism. Science fiction novelist Philip K. Dick will chronicle his pal Nicholas Brady’s ill-fated attempt to foment an uprising against Fremont. We know it will be ill-fated because of the decidedly dystopian framing device.

Frankly, the Orwellian state was working quite well for Brady, at least for a while. Thanks to subliminal messaging sent to him by a hive-mind alien entity he dubs VALIS (Vast Active Living Intelligence System), Brady leaves his Berkley record store gig in favor of a position at a record label, where he quickly advances. Due to his previous visions, he is convinced he should sign the mysterious Sylvia to a recording contract when she applies for a receptionist position. She has no idea what he is talking about, but appreciates any opportunity because of her unfortunate surname: Aramcheck.

Eventually, we learn those who commune with VALIS have an egg implanted in their heads, the Roman Empire never really fell, but continues to be the power behind the curtain, and perhaps Fremont was a Manchurian Candidate-style Soviet plant. Strangely, it all mostly makes sense in context.

Simon goes for a trippy, hallucinatory vibe, but unfortunately he succeeds too well. There is indeed a far-out atmosphere to the proceedings, but that consequently slows the pacing down to a somnambulist shuffle. This also gives viewers more than enough time to fully acknowledge the MST3K-worthy special effects. Frankly, it would be better not to show VALIS’s Satellite of Love than to green screen something that looks cruder than Overdrawn at the Memory Bank.

Clearly, Dick was not holding back the weirdness in Albemuth, yet it now seems somewhat dated, not just in terms of the escalated surveillance. There are weird L. Ronian echoes to the VALIS egg-implants, while Dick’s Cold War disdain seems rather naïve in light of Eastern Europe’s independence movements and Putin’s subsequent  Neo-Soviet imperialism. Frankly, the best thing about Simon’s film is the self-reflexively ironic Dick character and the understated but intense performance of Boardwalk Empire’s Shea Whigham.

Albemuth also boasts Alanis Morissette in her first substantial dramatic role, but it is nothing to write home about. Yet, Jonathan Scarfe is even more dour and dull as Brady. At least Hanna Hall seems to enjoy playing the fascist vixen toying with Dick (that doesn’t sound right, but so be it).

As if it needed any stranger credentials, Albemuth also boasts Robyn Hitchcock’s original song “Let’s Party,” which is bizarrely effective playing a critical role within the narrative. In fact, Simon’s ambition is admirable, but there are just too many disparate parts in conflict with each other. It is easy to see why his Hollywood predecessors opted to crank up the action instead. A noble car crash of a film that “Dickheads” will have to see regardless of mere mortal criticism, Radio Free Albemuth opens this Friday (6/27) in New York at the Quad Cinema.

LFM GRADE: C+

Posted on June 26th, 2014 at 5:46pm.

By Joe Bendel. In the future, the world will become a giant allegory. Nothing in this claustrophobic dystopia performs a practical purpose, but serves as a vision of class warfare at its most extreme. At least it all looks cool when the train’s tail-section revolts in Bong Joon-ho’s first English language production Snowpiercer, which opens this Friday in New York.

Seventeen years ago, a climate control experiment went horribly wrong. Now that the Earth is a frozen wasteland, the only surviving humans live in the protection of the globe circling train providentially prepared by the mysterious Wilford. However, instead of assigning productive tasks to each survivor, the Wilford express maintains a rigid and bafflingly bizarre social caste system. The further up you travel, the richer, crueler, and idler the passengers get. It’s all sushi and filet mignon up front, but gelatinous protein bars for the proletarian in the tail-section, who do not really appear to work either, but just sit around waiting to be beaten by the guards (apparently the train’s only productive class).

Curtis Everett has emerged as the leader of the proles in the back of the train, whether he likes it or not. He is still haunted the things he did during his darkest, most desperate hours, but old Gilliam provides encouragement and wise counsel to the budding revolutionary. Everett is biding his time, waiting for a cue from a source ensconced somewhere further up the train, but the arbitrary ruthlessness of Minister Mason, a buck-toothed caricature of an elitist exploiter, forces his hand. Freeing Nam-gung Min-su, the drug-addled Korean security specialist who designed the train’s door locks, and his train-born daughter Yo-na, Everett and his followers plan to fight their way to the engine room. Stopping anywhere short of that will doom their revolt.

Frankly, Snowpiercer is even less subtle than it sounds. Tilda Swinton is a great screen thespian, but her portrayal of Mason is embarrassingly cringey. She is also emblematic of the film’s fundamental problem—this simply is not a believable world. People act mean and savage for no logical reason accept to live up to a class-based stereotype. Nonetheless, production designer Ondřej Nekvasil and art director Štefan Kováčik created a distinctively detailed calling card that ought to earn them a gig on the next Terry Gilliam or Tim Burton film.

If you prefer your movie leads on the sullen side then you will probably be okay with Chris Evans’ turn as Everett. He is a brooding machine, but looks respectable during the well-staged action sequences. John Hurt’s Obiwan shtick also works well enough for Gilliam the sage. However, the only real surprises found in the film come from the characters of Nam-gung Min-su and Yo-na—as well as the respective performances of Korean superstar Song Kang-ho and Ko Ah-sung, his juvenile co-star in The Host. Viewers should keep their eyes on this tandem, because together they nearly redeem all of Snowpiercer’s flaws.

Uncut by the Weinsteins, Snowpiercer is so didactic it will give intellectually sophisticated viewers a headache. Yet, there are fascinating Easter Eggs buried throughout it, thanks to a skilled design team and Bong’s Host alumni. Diverting for those who appreciate spectacle and mayhem, but disappointing on any deeper level, Snowpiercer opens this Friday (6/27) in New York at the Angelika Film Center.

LFM GRADE: C

Posted on June 25th, 2014 at 11:06pm.

By Joe Bendel. Which is more deadly, Angela Mao Ying’s hapkido or George Lazenby’s mustache? It had better be Mao, because the one-and-done Bond eventually shaves his ‘stache to throw off the bad guys. It is all part of the sex-and-drugs-and-martial arts glory of Feng Huang’s Stoner, which is included in The Angela Mao Ying Collection now available from Shout Factory.

Joseph Stoner is an Australian cop, whose girlfriend was deliberately hooked on a new form of sexually-charged heroin in retribution for his relentless investigations. Sometimes they also say he is American, but that would make him one of those Yankee coppers that drive on the left side of the road. Either way, it’s not worth getting hung up on.

Angela Li Shou-hua is also a cop, who has been sent undercover into Hong Kong from Taiwan to investigate the mysterious syndicate that keeps buying creaky decommissioned freighters at auction for ridiculous prices. They are both investigating the same outfit, but drug lords have no idea the shy young immigrant selling sodas on a desolate stretch of beach is actually a lethal martial artist.

However, they see Stoner coming from a mile away and put Agnes Wong Yen-yen, their designated femme fatale, on the case. After a contrived meeting, they capture a blackmail shot of Stoner in bed with Wong. Yet, it really doesn’t seem to bother him because, A: it’s the 1970s and B: she’s hot.

In fact, you really cannot get much more 1970s than this. Supposedly, the bare bones of Stoner were originally conceived as a vehicle for Bruce Lee and Sonny Chiba, but the latter dropped out after the former’s tragic death. Frankly, it is impossible to glean much of the initial concept from the final film that is Stoner. The irony further compounded with the casting of Betty Ting Pei (in whose apartment Lee somewhat scandalously passed away) as the temptress Wong.

Add in an incredibly funky soundtrack and some wild psychedelic interludes (that go on much longer than they should, because they are designed to accommodate bare breasts) and you have cult movie gold. Believe it or not, Stoner is not a perfect film. Huang keeps his co-leads plugging away separately for way too long and he somewhat favors the title character over Mao’s Li. Still, it is wildly entertaining when they take on the collected bad guys (while Stoner fights off a dose of horndog H).

As usual, Mao throws down with grace and authority, just generally commanding the screen in all respects. It is important to remember the love-him-or-hate-him Bond also had skills, which is why the Broccolis hired him in the first place. Ting adds some smart, saucy smolder as Wong and you knew Sammo Hung had to be in here as one of the chief henchmen.

This is the sort of film you can watch over and over and over again. The normal critical standards do not apply—it just delivers. Highly recommended for fans of Mao, Ting, Hung, and Lazenby (you know who you are), Stoner is now available on DVD as part of Shout Factory’s Angela Mao Ying Collection.

LFM GRADE: A

Posted on June 25th, 2014 at 10:54pm.

By Joe Bendel. He was the first fashion designer to be given his own exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and was recently the subject of a comprehensive retrospective at the Denver Art Museum. However, Yves Saint Laurent did not always act in a manner appropriate for such hallowed institutions. Jalil Lespert gets the first crack at dramatizing Saint Laurent’s storied career and chaotic private life with Yves Saint Laurent, which opens this Wednesday at Film Forum.

Lespert’s treatment reaches international audiences before Bertrand Bonello’s even more simply titled Saint Laurent (sort of like the competing Ip Man films), but they are both trailing Pierre Thoretton’s should-have-been-better documentary, L’Amour fou. Like Thoretton, Lespert set sail with the blessing of Saint Laurent’s longtime life partner, business fixer, and co-collector Pierre Bergé. Ironically, this seems to have given Lespert considerable license to explore some of the darker corners of the designer’s psyche.

We meet Saint Laurent as an earnest young French Algerian, who is too delicate for a settler’s life, but still considers Algiers as French as the Champs-Elysees. Soon he relocates to Paris, working his way up the design ranks at the house of Dior. When it is time for Saint Laurent to strike out on his own, it will be Bergé who raises the necessary funds. As the responsible one, Bergé will also patch Saint Laurent together after his various breakdowns. Yet, despite his efforts, keeping Saint Laurent away from the temptations of fast living becomes a full time losing battle.

While Lespert offers up plenty of Saint Laurent’s dark nights of the soul, he still knows what most patrons want from a movie like this: pretty clothes and pretty people. Thanks to the YSL archive and Charlotte Le Bon appearing as Saint Laurent’s former favorite model Victoire Doutrelaeu, Lespert’s film has plenty of both. In fact, Le Bon adds a wonderfully melodramatic edge to the proceedings.

Laura Smet is also nicely decorative as Doutreleau’s replacement, Loulou de la Falaise, but she is just overwhelmed by the psychedelic trappings of the late 1960s-early 1970s era. Frankly, the same largely applies to Lespert’s ostensive lead, the feather-light and paper-thin Pierre Niney (of the Comédie Française). Perhaps by design, his Saint Laurent is largely a cipher, unto which everyone else projects the YSL they need or want.

Somewhat logically given Bergé’s support, Saint Laurent’s long suffering partner emerges as the emotional center and dramatic anchor of Lespert’s bio-pic. Guillaume Gallienne (also of the Comédie Française) is terrific balancing the YSL CEO’s jealousy and wounded pride, as well as resoluteness and maturity. It really is Bergé’s film and Gallienne carries it, accordingly. In fact, you have to give the real life Bergé credit for having the guts to throw China’s human rights record back in its face when they demanded the return of two Winter Palace bronzes he put up for auction as part of the collection he amassed with Saint Laurent.

There is plenty of scandal and heartache in Lespert’s YSL, but it is a rather pleasant viewing experience thanks to his light touch and spritely pace. Ibrahim Maalouf’s upbeat soundtrack, stylishly mixing elements of jazz and 1960s pop also provides a key assist, as well as one of the film’s most accomplished creative collaborators, Italian alto and tenor saxophonist Stefano di Battista. It all looks and sounds great, which its subjects would most certainly appreciate. Recommended for fans of high fashion and fashionable House of Eliott-style drama, Yves Saint Laurent (the first one) opens this Wednesday (6/25) at New York’s Film Forum.

LFM GRADE: B

Posted on June 25th, 2014 at 10:48pm.