I didn't hear of Oldboy until after the Virginia Tech shootings, where Cho Sung-Hui's self-portraits mimicked the stills from this blockbuster Korean film. It won the Grand Prize at the Cannes when it came out, and narrowly missed the Palm d'Or. Yesterday, I took Oldboy in in three parts, in between catching up with my sleep deficit and a scrumptious lamb in marsala and rosemary dinner.

Oldboy, apparently, is an even grander feast. Filled with unforgettably graphic visuals (a live octopus stars in one, scissors, hammers in others, and some expeditious dentistry) Oldboy is an Elizabethan revenge tragedy -- complete with the heart-wrenching twist -- of sadistic mastery.

A man (Oh Dae-su) is imprisoned by an anonymous captor and is freed after 15 years of incarceration, marked by mysterious visitors, hallucinations, and hypnosis. From the moment he is released, the pace is unrelenting and Oh Dae-su's excruciating 5-day journey to find his captor and seek revenge leads to an utter insanity that is as gripping as his bravura, resourcefulness and morphine-addled fight sequences. The bizarre plot, which assembles some memorable characters, is unveiled with a directorial sophistication that serves up the complexity of the script in succinct, and oftentimes exploitative manner. The acting is also true: Min Sik Choi is a frightening, frightening man.

The tastiest scene, undoubtedly, is a brawl between the untethered Oh Dae-su and a host of thugs. Set in a corridor, it plays out from a camera angle that borrows from Streetfighter video game fame -- the camera lets you watch from the side, as the blows are dealt from left to right. Drunk, claustrophobic and an utter mess.

Still, you'd be missing out on a lot if all you do is relish the action and the gore. Underneath the visual paranoia is an exotic thriller which mesmerizes on a higher level; as a reader of the Book of Job, my empathy goes out to the man losing his head, every blow transcends "sticking it to the man". So, take it for what it is, a masterpiece that will delight you with both ingenious storytelling and senseless brutality at a turbo-charged pace.

(I'm going to watch it again soon, as I feel I would have inevitably missed countless things from reading the subs.)

Includes Aeon Flux, Tom Cruise in Steven Spielberg's take of "War of the Worlds" and Jim Sheridan directs 50 Cent. Yes, 50 Cent.

Read here.

I have some food pics from Thanksgiving, but that will come later.

Right now, I have this to say: Spongebob Squarepants the movie was far more entertaining and engaging than The Incredibles. And I say this because, you, reader, may be faced with the hard decision to choose which of these recent animated movie releases you will pony up your hard-earned money for. The answer is this: go for the yellow Scotch Brite pad (with the squarepants).

The Incredibles, though promising, was uneven at times, and took a helluva long time to become interesting. The weakest of all Pixar releases, The Incredibles is weighed down by long character setups (yeah, yeah, yeah we get it, he's *incredible*) and the writer's onus of making superhuman characters interesting in an animated universe so used to, well, animated superhuman characters: the best of Pixar had to do with toys, ants, fish and more toys. Monsters, Inc., I believe was second weakest.

The one saving grace was Edna, and she had the fewest lines -- heck, it took nearly half the movie to introduce the evil villain! And I wasn't crazy about their superpowers either; we've seen them all. No talking fishes here, no toys with identity crises either.

Contrast this to the maniacal buzz of the Ren and Stimpy-esque gem that was Spongebob Squarepants (even the art looked Michael K). Complete with humor only the intellectual snobs can get ("You can't fool me! I listen to public radio!") and unbelievably witty repartee ("I made it to Shell City! I rode the Hasselhoff!") Spongebob kept you laughing with its own witless bizaare brand of humor that was all so tongue in cheek. There's Spongebob, in an ecstatic moment of self-realization, proclaiming that he was just being himself (not a "kid", and not a "man") as he flies magically in the air dressed like Jimi Hendrix and freeing the people of Bikini Bottom from Plankton's mind-control with every riff from his guitar.

I've long forgotten the best parts of The Incredibles, yet the "Goofy Goober" song is earworm. And there's Mindy, Patrick, competitive ice cream eating and a song and dance number you will never forget. Perhaps a little bit of the unexpected (I was dragged in the movie house with three other kids) made this movie even more delightful, and made The Incredibles the more half-witted one.

Leave the Mr. Incredible doll alone, I want a Spongebob tee for Christmas.

Went to go see Spidey2 but got to see this one instead; no regrets, this movie is nonstop, techno-jungle paced spy movie action that has you guessing and fully engaged with what Jason Bourne is going to do next. The pace is exhilirating, the action sequences shot with handheld cameras are tight, claustrophobic and confused -- as close to the action as you can get. In one sequence, where Jason Bourne is tossed around in the living room of an ex Treadstone agent, it's almost as if you had a view from a Jason-cam mounted on Matt Damon's forehead. He fights with a rolled up magazine convulsing amidst lightning quick reflexes -- no BMWs, martinis or Pussy Galores.

Having said that, it also needs to be said that Joan Allen is not too shabby for a 48 year old. And, for you LOTR fans out there, here's a chance for you to see your beloved Carl Urban in action again, armed but unmounted.

The best part of Bourne Supremacy is its tightly-written and tensely twisting script, a requirement, apparently, of Damon, who was only interested in doing a sequel to Identity if the script was rock-solid. Indeed, it was, keeping the audience guessing at every turn what the lead will do next, how the CIA will react -- and who will get popped.

And, if for some reason you can't see the entire movie, see it for the car chase scene at the end. Better than Ronin (Audi, 'nuf said), better than French Connection (a Pontiac chasing a train!), better than The Transporter (one BMW, a fleet of Peugeots, and a bunch of car sick bank robbers). Bourne speeds through Moscow with a broken leg, a bullet in his shoulder and a bottle of vodka in The Little Taxi That Could. That handbrake is your friend in this car chase where, it seems, the threshold for human pain has been stretched to an airbag-less world. Damon's Bourne is both indestructible and determined: really about the only two things needed to pull off Jason Bourne. All in all, a well-made movie that's worth every heart-pounding minute.

Although Ultimatum was the weakest of the Bourne series, I can't wait to see it made.

In a documentary, there is always hope for answers. Compared with the average American viewer, I, a so-called Martial Law Baby, would have more foreknowledge of Imelda Marcos, and so I had kept my expectations for learning something new lower. After all, what could this documentary -- journalistic but not investigative in my view -- possibly do to peel off the layers of conspiracy, manipulation and greed that cover the truth behind all their misgivings?

Alas, it is exactly that expectation I have to tame: this is about Imelda and not about finding the missing billions. And Diaz lets her subject shine through very clearly. The truth that we do know now more than ever before is that Imelda is a bonafide whack job.

Continue reading "Imelda" »

I was really looking forward to this movie. Here's why it's such a let down:

1. I can't understand half of what they're saying. It's either lost in 150 year old naval mumbo-jumbo or in an accent so thick, you can spread it on toast.

2. In a plot-driven movie (as opposed to character-driven movies like "A Beautiful Mind"), it moved along too slow, and there were some situations that were far too stupid: the suicide of one of the officers who thought he was "bad luck", the sudden no-wind situation, the auto-surgery the doctor performed, the amputation of a boy's right arm -- preposterous! Unbelievable! I'll take my orcs and witch kings any time.

3. I got claustrophobic on the ship. A bit like Crimson Tide.

4. What is up with those violin and double bass duets?

5. Also, I would often have to stop and visualize how the boats were out-foxing each other. You'll need to remind yourself which one's "starboard" and which one's "port". The latter is left, right?

6. Naturalists, at least these days, mean nude colonists, and not bird-watching, bug-hunting, Galapagos tourists.

7. Not enough Crowe getting medieval on someone's ass.

As difficult as it is to sit through the slow-drawl that is the hallmark of every Eastwood movie, there is potency is this (lack of) timing -- it allows the viewer to immerse himself into every horse ride, bridge, or in this case, every porch and door of Boston in this what I truly believe deserves the Oscar for Best Director. This movie, had it not been for Eastwood's metaphoricism, stark lighting, tense dialogue and nervous buildup would have been just another crime movie watching no better than a good episode of CSI.

Penn is utter despair and grief, and one can easily understand -- no, empathize with -- the rage that drives him out of his shell. Even his appearance, ruddy face, long cross tattoo running down his spine, and a ripped physique, is a contradiction of youth and wear and tear. Yet more frightening is Laura Linney's portrayal of the "Queen" that would validate Penn's violence as love and compassion. At the end of the movie, the sum of all the tragedies can be overwhelming: there, a sexually-abused boy turns into a disturbed, brooding, brutal but innocent (at least of the death of Katie) wrongfully fingered by his own wife and is disemboweld and entombed into the River. There, two young boys and a misfiring gun was to blame in the end. There, a father, who has seemingly turned a leaf, reverts to his violent old in the face of an unbearable tragedy.

None of these would have mattered -- or would have even surfaced -- had Eastwood not let it become so. You would find yourself sitting in the cafeteria with the detectives, going over every agonizing detail of Penn's recollection of the last moment he saw Katie. You are in the dark, cowering in the corner, when Tim Robbins tells his wife, now trembling in fear, about vampires, wolves, and the little boy who got into the back of the car. The last time I remember seeing this much raw nuclear evil shaking the very screen was in The Sixth Sense. (Heck, even the lighting reminded me of that movie). You are right there in the heart of Boston, as good as an acquaintance as these men and women were when they were children playing hockey on the streets. You can almost see the cigarette smoke stains in the kitchen ceiling.

And, as heavy on the heart as it was, the realization that the film's very thesis was made so explicit by Penn's character leaves you grateful that there is a director like Eastwood; a director who can shape fear, rage, grief, despair and vengeance like they were uncomplicated emotions, by making them as forceful, unpalatable and blunt as possible.

While everyone is trying to wean themselves away from eating KFC, I had to fight the urge to throw up while watching Gigli. I admit, curiosity got the best of me, but I wouldn't pay to see it. So, instead, I picked up a pirated copy, which despite being crystal clear, shed not a ray of hope to save this self-absorbed, flatulent movie about two hitmen-wannabe who cross paths. One a muscle-headed type-A attitude bozo with a house that looks like it just got Queer Eyed, another, a lesbian who looks just like Jennifer Lopez! Wow!

Really, if you were a JLo fan, then this movie would be dope. You get to see her do yoga, for instance, while struggling to strike metaphors between lips and the female reproductive organ. Take it or leave it, you gotta love the lyrcra.

Certainly this movie is not just for JLo fans, Ben (with those beautiful eyes) prances around in his bathrobe, preens topless and even gets his nipple sucked. From leather-clad in Daredevil to this, Ben Affleck has surely made the best career moves yet.

Even more annoying was the dialogue. "Turkey time," JLo says before asking Ben for some "oral" favors. "Gobble. Gobble!" Despicable. The supporting cast was horrible too, save for cameos from Al Pacino (being Al Pacino, shooting expletives and a .357) and Christopher Walken (being Christopher Walken, dazed, confused and dangerous).

But it is wonderful to know that, having wasted 2 hours on that movie, that I have indeed seen one of the worst ever made, if only to get a chance to blog about it. Now that JLo and Ben have officially called it quits, it's even better to know that they had a chance to do Gigli. The movie ends with JLo saying goodbye, Ben teary-eyed, and JLo coming back to change her mind. Flighty? Sounds like JLo to me.

While a weblog discussion goes on about the movie, I wanted to put in my two cents worth. Actually, two degrees worth is more accurate. As it turns out, a friend of mine worked with a photographer who worked as a photographer for Coppola during the filming of the movie. Apparently, he looked so much like Martin Sheen that at one point he was asked to double for him.

That's about as much as I have on this matter. Back with regularly blogging soon.

Ohmygod-ohmygod-ohmygod.

The movie is expected to be the first of five films based on Lewis' seven Chronicles of Narnia books, to which Walden holds the film rights.

And I was just getting really sad that LOTR was now over. Could be I now have reason to continue living.

What's the point of writing something about ROTK? Everyone knows it's a great one, without even having seen it. But, it's too good to not blog about. And what's the point of seeing ROTK without getting the chance to say: so I just saw the best movie ever made?

Okay: I just saw the best movie ever made. No acting awards here, but if you think the Battle at Helm's Deep was aweso-spectacular, then wait til you see the Battle for Middle Earth. Helm's Deep was but a skirmish.

Of course, everyone awaits this great final Battle, and Jackson does not disappoint, almost to the extent that Frodo and Sam's journey is but a distraction, a necessary intermission, because otherwise it would all be just one glorious battle scene after another.

Indeed, the battle for Minas Tirith and across Pelennor Fields (where I was nearly brought to tears seeing Faromir lead his small army to certain death) was to me the single most breathtaking sequence of fictional events committed to film. With armies of Orcs, Haradrim and Easterlings clashing with the forces of Gondor and Rohan (the blonde muscular riders of Rohirrim), the King of Gondor's mighty Ghost Army ala Pirates of the Carribean, Legolas' single-handedly taking down a Mumakil (reminiscent, albeit, of Luke Skywalker taking down an AT-AT Walker) and Eowyn's dont-even-flinch duel with the Witch King (the movie's single most memorable moment -- cheers and applause all around the theater), amidst trolls with large hammers, trebuchets and catapults, horses, axes, arrows, Gandalf working his staff -- I am at a loss for words. This movie is amazing.

There are, fortunately, other memorable moments in the film. Fortunately, I say, because the thing lasts for more than three hours. Like the first two movies, these three hours go by really fast. When Aragorn first unsheaths the sword that would make him King, Eowyn getting busted, lighting the Beacons of Gondor, the Steward of Gondor's chin at the business end of Gandalf's staff, and, perhaps most memorable, Frodo becomes Little Miss Muffet, Sam the man, Merry and Pippin busting the line ahead of everyone else to lead the charge against thousands of orcs.

I was kinda surprised with the giant eagles bit, but, that's in keeping with the book. And Faromir's near-early death was really twisted, almost necrophilia. I'd like to read that part of the book to understand it better.

And, Jackson delivers an ending well worth it, again keeping with the trilogy. Remember, he is ending three movies, so I disagree with those critics who said the epilogue (or epilogues?) was/were too long. These were necessary, but maybe the fades to black throws you off a bit. One more worthy note: never mind the breathtaking scenery and Minas Tirith, the music was splendid!

Having saved a bundle (cheap lotteried tickets from the Graduate Council) we can actually see it again. Jackson has delivered, and he is money in the bank from hereon in.

I went in there after hearing of the bad reviews, and knowing that I'd still be awed by the special effects. But what this movie does best is to remind you of how good the first two movies were by forgetting to do more of what we had liked in the previous installments, instead slipping into a massive, egotistical, almost Attack of the Clone-ish and definitely austentacious attempt to tie up all the loose ends of the movie.

We believe he's the one, so shut up already. No more pills or doors or more choices. Give us your version of the Attack on Helms Deep.

Not since reading Milan Kundera's Immortality have I seen such self-absorption from an extremely talented creator suddenly turned into a chest-beating nacissist who think they can do no wrong. (Why am I comparing Kundera with The Matrix?)

Well, the film readily reminds you of all the lapses and the embarassing moments (CG) of the most recent movie by filling this one with really stupid lines (Trinity: Six hours ago I told the French guy that I would die for you. And you know what's changed in the last six hours? Neo: What? Trinity: Nothing) and a battle between Agent Smith and Neo so blownout of proportion that you feel like you just watched an episode of Dragonball Z.

Besides, who left Morpheus in the kitchen? He must have taken out his faith issues on the burritos.

And Neo really isn't the smartest tool in the shed, he couldn't recognize Agent Smith holding Trinity hostage. Who else would call him "Mr. Anderson" while gritting his teeth?

Still, I was awed by the special effects, not by the bullet time fight sequences, which were boring, really, but by the best damn actors in the entire movie: the sentinels. Their attack on Zion was to this movie as the freeway chase scene was to the previous one: glorious and breathtaking.

There were some obvious questions thrown back and forth, making it appear that this wasn't much of a closure. Did Neo die? Was this an end to the war or just a cease fire? What about all those other human beings left unliberated? Why the hell didn't they have some sort of EMP defense system in place in Zion to thwart off such an attack?

It also appeared that Neo didn't really defeat Agent Smith. It was Agent Smith's assimilation (to paraphrase Star Trek's Borgs) of Neo and the Oracle that did him in. At that point, I had just wished they had brought the Twins back.

All in all, it was obvious that The Matrix, sold to millions as a trilogy, was never meant to be one. Otherwise, it would have such an ending worthy of its beginning, not some lovestruck schtick and an Architect who looks like Colonel Sanders. At least I can get the wallpaper for free.

Hence, all beginnings come to an end. I'm just looking forward to The Return of the King, which can only be a better trilogy-ending sequel than this one.

I dunno. It looks like one big Battle Royale (with cheese!):

"There's no disgrace in trying to kill people in the coolest way possible -- especially if you're doing a martial-arts movie."

--Director QUENTIN TARANTINO, quoted in the New York Post, on his new movie "Kill Bill, Vol. 1," which the newspaper said includes a 20-minute scene in which 88 people die.

After about four intallments, I finally finished So Close. The distended viewing might have affected my overall appreciation of the film. In fact, wildly impossible plot aside, this one's a pretty good flick.

When you pick it up from the bargain bin, or the bangketa at Greenhills, you immediately think, well, this is a Charlie's Angels in Asia ripoff. Forget the fact that it is Shu Qi, or Karen Mok, or Zhao Wei. Forget the fact that, as you look closer into the credits, it is a film by Corey Yuen, the same guy who did The Transporter (which also has Shu Qi and features Jason Statham's worked out forearms, pectorals and attitude), Bodyguard from Beijing, No Retreat No Surrender, and Hero.

Okay, so you don't forget. Hey, it's discount.

Stick it in right after watching Sportscenter, and you'll catch my drift: this is a movie where, like The Transporter, you're best checking your brain at the door before watching. Sorry, but there is some serious bitchslapping here. Guns, martial arts, car chases, swords, sticks, sniper rifles, hi-tech gadgetry: it's almost as if Yuen wants to score in every action genre, be it the spy game type or the Rush Hour type. Very soon, you realize that the three are NOT working together, thus killing off the Charlie's Angels premonition. In fact, Mok's character is chasing after the two others, who are hired assasins. I can't avoid saying it: looks can kill. If only the movie didn't kick off with a computer virus.

But kick ass they do. And they do so in some very memorable scenes. There is the first encounter of the three in, where else?, a parking lot. Yuen gracefully choreographs Mok, Zhao and Shu Qi (Mok the one with the most martial arts training, which is not a lot by Michelle Yeo's standards) as they knot and untangle in kickboxing-jeet kun do wire-fu captured from every angle. Consider this scene Number 1 in the Sportscenter countdown. Number 2 comes earlier in the movie, and the only reason it's Number 2 is that it only has one pair of fists, Shu Qi's (versus a mob of nameless suits). Picture the Carpenter's "Close to You" lilting in the background with Shu Qi, two guns, a pair of high heeled boots, and glass shattering everywhere. (Hey, where is that wind that's blowing her hair-like-lace coming from?)

Yuen finds the time to develop some character, particularly that of Shu Qi's. She has a "boyfriend" (you'll find out what those quotation marks are for when you watch the movie) and a lovely sister who likes cake and plays geek at home all day in her gym shorts (slashdot readers take note). The strong sisterhood is developed for a reason, as it is tested in the latter parts of the movie.

In fact, there is a heck of a lot of drama for all three main characters combined. The homeopathic subtexts, yes, even the prospect of a Karen Mok-Zhao Wei romance, makes one a bit giddy, and certainly throws one off the action.

Action which pulsates throughout, leaving the audience with lots of cover-girl-turned-ruthless-killer images in their heads. But the movie is a sort of a letdown at the end: why re-stage the first action sequence? Couldn't they have just done it differently? We've seen this building before, haven't we? And all it took was Shu Qi the first time, NOW you're sending two? It's the same buncha stiffs... Gee...

Wait, there is a twist. They're fighting the Big Boss here at the end. He's a frickin Samurai who goes crazy-Toshiro-Mifune-monkey ass sh*t twirling swordfighting vs. Mok and Zhao. Oh, please, don't kill Zhao. Please. Only she knows how to operate World Panaroma (see virus in the beginning). No, please, not the face!

Alas, Yuen is kind to his fans. Mok and Zhao Wei (and her unrequited love) survive, and Shu Qi? Well she... she lasts forever.

(By the way, they have a killer website.)

I watched Battle Royale a couple of days before leaving Manila. While it's been days, I'm still thinking about how I feel about the movie. It's not easy to dismiss as good or bad: the gore factor is tremendously high -- almost ridiculously so, and surely zeroing in on this would make me miss out on the relevant underpinnings.

Still, whoever packaged the movie doesn't want you to look deeper. After all, the movie's tagline is "Could You Kill Your Best Friend?" The answer is a bonecrushing, bullet-ricocheting, fleshcutting, agonizing yes. The movie kills roughly 30 prep students, who are made to go at each other on a deserted island in order to survive. And just when you think that it would take the students a while to get around to doing their business, someone is walking around with an arrow through her neck. Pretty soon someone gets a hatchet on the forehead. A throat is sliced with a scythe. Several students hang themselves.

This straightforwardness is, in fact, the reason why I remain ambivalent about the movie. Sure, there are poignant sub-contexts; I immediately felt like it was a cross between The Lord of the Flies and Reality TV (which makes it simply kitsch) but at the end of it, it's more like the Breakfast Club Redux with lots of actors who don't fall to the ground with one bullet. The preparatory video the kids watched (sort of like a How to Kill Manual) summed up the dark humor throughout the movie. Indeed, I felt like watching a Dungeons and Dragons deathmatch (here's a +2 Crossbow!) unfold.

And there's no point asking who will live. The movie starts with the one previous Battle Royale Winner. It doesn't matter if only one survives, plenty will die violently in the process. And that's what we're watching here. The point of the movie is not just about survival, it's avoiding a vicious demise.

So, the truth is is that it's hard to see through the crimson lens what director Kinji Fukasaku is trying to do. Is he merely creating a cheap bloody thriller or a two-hour statement of his own post-apocalyptic view (now that there is no more real threat of an apocalypse)? A race, it seems, will continue to kill it's own, and in dramatic and entertaining fashion. Each one of those prep kids are like Stephen King's Running Man -- an unwarranted death sentence meted out by people you would like to trust the most: parents, teachers and, in the Running Man's case, Richard Dawson.

Nevertheless, it was worth seeing, if only for that one sequence where (spoilers here) several girls holed up in a lighthouse end up shooting each other ala Reservoir Dogs. Like the Tarantino movie, the scene emphasizes the fragile trust that exists among the friends-turned-enemies where a single suspicion is stamped out with a rain of bullets. Evil always rears its ugly head.

I liked it, I know, but to what do I owe the liking to? Is it the gore? Is it that psycob*tch with a scythe? Or that punk that wouldn't die? Or that teacher that wouldn't die? Or the weapons (and the coolest weapons of them all, the enemy detector)? Or is it the movie's vision of a frail, gruesome and self-destructive society filled with armed wackos?

Maybe the sequel will shed light on the matter.