LIFE AS FICTION > for the love of film / a dequinix.com externality

Elite Squad

2007 / José Padilha > Regardless of all the nonsense about Elite Squad being a fascist film, I believe it genuinely tries to portray the morally ambiguous mindset of those who have been given the right to uphold peace in one of the worst ghettos in the world. Coming from the man who directed the eye-opening documentary Bus 174, there's less reason to believe that Padilha would miss a chance to use the world's stage (as it screened and won at this year's Berlinale) to make a statement about his country. And his statement is simple: These people live hard lives, filled with decisions that never seem right. The gangsters (as portrayed beautifully on the other side by City of God) are never right. The BOPE, the special police of the favelas shown here, are never right. Then who is? The primary critique towards the film may be its caricatured portrayal of the wealthy, but even that could be argued as a medium via which to further polarize the law enforcement's viewpoint. The resolution simply makes the battle versus good and evil more indistinct, and sadly, that sort of finality may be the only truth there is.

Paris, je t'aime

2006 / Tristan Carné > Paris, je t'aime is a mixed bag of short films, no doubt, with a couple of head-scratching entries by Christopher Doyle (which seems to be an extension of his appreciation of Asian women) and Olivier Assayas (where Maggie Gyllenhaal does something, we're just not sure what). Balancing those are a comfy, introverted short by Alexander Payne in which an American tourist falls in love with Paris and solitude all at once, and arguably the finest piece in the compendium, about a mime who finds love in the most incredulous of places, directed by Sylvain Chomet of The Triplets of Belleville. And though in between is everything from marriage to racism and vampires, the total package's cohesiveness is rarely lost. It's tricky, however, when you only have five minutes to get your point across—Symbolism becomes a heavy element but since the viewer's forced to jump into the next short, there's not much time to contemplate what the aforementioned symbolism could have meant.

Transsiberian

2008 / Brad Anderson > Transsiberian is an unique film in the midst of Hollywood's barrage of inarticulate torture porn: It's filled with a level of palpable tension that never truly shows its face in the way you would expect (which in itself is quite an achievement). Founded on a stellar performance by Emily Mortimer, the film tests the audience's stereotypes and then tries to defy many movie conventions. While it doesn't always succeed, Anderson's script and his technical expertise work together to entertain the viewer throughout. There are a couple of plot points that are irksome, but because the final product feels so complete, it's hard to not give them the benefit of the doubt.

Son of Rambow

2008 / Garth Jennings > The great thing about Son of Rambow is that it feels less like a kid's movie and more like the movie you want to watch at an older age that makes you feel like a kid again. It's got a lot of subtle storytelling tactics that give you a layer on top of what you see, often catalyzed by personal experiences of family and growing up. All the performances are great, though newcomer Will Poulter definitely needs some additional praise for his portrayal of the bad boy with a big heart—and it seems like he'll be getting some more attention with rumors that he's been cast in the upcoming Narnia sequels. For Jennings, this is quite a departure from his first feature film attempt in A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, but it definitely seems to be his area of comfort, and I definitely look forward to whatever he brings us next.

Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story

2007 / Jake Kasdan > A deliriously fun parody, Walk Hard doesn't ever actually stop to analyze what it's doing. The way Kasdan organized the project, it really ends up being a seamless, over-the-top yet surprisingly believable (if you were to actually try to believe) story of a rock 'n' roll superstar. John C. Reilly is completely in his element and Tim Meadows is, well, funny again. However, the extended cut is arguably too extended and ill-paced for the film to be enjoyable by the time the credits roll. The theatrical cut is clean, efficient and paced just right.

Horton Hears a Who!

2008 / Jimmy Hayward & Steve Martino > It feels like it's been a long time since I've seen an animated film this simple and innocent yet so enjoyable. Aside from all the logical messes that may exist in Horton Hears a Who! (after all, this is based on a Dr. Seuss story), the silly but smart humor, the optimism and hope and the succinct running time make it one of the best family films to come out in some time.

Atonement

2007 / Joe Wright > A couple of things in which Atonement surpasses almost every film this year: Dario Marianelli's glowing score that anchors itself around the effectively used typewriter clicks, and Seamus McGarvey's magnificent cinematography, including a three minute long shot that captures the beauty and despair of the evacuation of Dunkirk during World War II. Also memorable is the simmering performance by 12-year-old newcomer Saoirse Ronan (now nominated for an Oscar) as a character of genuine human fault whose covetous nature sets the wheels of the story into motion. But it's ultimately too hard to digest. The prettiness aside, there's something incalculably dishonest about how the film interacts with the viewer, manipulating our emotions to prove a point that renders itself ineffective soon after. You can't particularly blame anyone, since it's based on Ian McEwan's novel, so it becomes an issue of unlucky circumstance. Wright, nonetheless, should be commended for such an exacting, exciting effort.

Exodus

2007 / Edmond Pang > After a superb directing effort in Isabella, Pang goes off the deep-end in this seemingly ridiculous black dramedy about a secret women's organization that kills men—or so it seems. Following a haunting, memorable introductory sequence, Exodus dives us into a mystery that takes its sweet time to unwind. Plot twists are somewhat predictable, but the tone is dark and fascinating. Simon Yam's passive-aggressive cop is spot on and Annie Liu complements him well. Visually, Charlie Lam's cinematography once again impresses, with lingering, vivid shots that constantly mesmerize the eye. Where the film fails, unfortunately, is in the final stretch where the speed at which the film moves accelerates to a point where it may actually leave the viewers with more questions than answers. It ends up being somewhat superficial and fluffy, but still a wonderful, offbeat treat.

Charlie Wilson's War

2007 / Mike Nichols > Charlie Wilson's War has an Aaron Sorkin imprint on it the way it doesn't have a Nichols one: It's a witty but forceful political piece where there's good and there's bad, and the good fights to win by sometimes doing morally ambiguous things. The film is smart and entertaining, even if it doesn't offer the kind of depth that that sticks in your mind years after. The writing is as sharp as one would expect, and Tom Hanks utilizes his dialogue well opposite an equally excellent offering from Philip Seymour Hoffman. It may be Nichols-lite, but it's better than most of Hollywood has to offer these days.

Driving With My Wife's Lover

2007 / Kim Tai-sik > Through a meticulously tracked black dramedy, Kim explores adultery through the eyes of both willing and accidental participants. The film's demeanor is understating but effective, often light-hearted in the face of what would generally turn into a violent revenge-fest in similar genre films. While Chungmuro continues to focus on bloated, mediocrity that's being inspired by Hollywood, Driving With My Wife's Lover keeps it simple yet engaging. The story, the pacing and the purposefully flat-footed acting are all spot on in creating the kind of atmosphere one would expect from a setting of illegal intimacy. It's a small gem, having played in Berlin, Sundance and Rotterdam, but one that still has yet to get the notice it deserves.

Ratatouille

2007 / Brad Bird & Jan Pinkava > Is Brad Bird the West's answer to Miyazaki? For a while, I thought that was the case. Both Iron Giant as well as The Incredibles showed off an intense originality that had been missing under the shadows of Japanese animation. Now, I'm not so certain: Ratatouille is a fine film, enjoyable from beginning to end and very warming to the heart. But I just can't get over the fact that it feels to me as if Bird's vision has regressed, that he's fit his story into a sort of a mainstream mold that caters to preconceived notions of what Pixar should do. This feeling of the gut is what keeps this tale from being a classic—or you could just argue that the cynic in me has won this battle.

Eastern Promises

2007 / David Cronenberg > If there's one thing that Cronenberg's always done and deserves the most praise for, it's the respect and intelligence with which he treats his audience. Hints are dropped, arcs are drawn but most of the dots are ultimately connected by the viewer. More often than not, this technique works wonders (e.g., Crash and eXistenZ). In Eastern Promises, this technique is further refined to the point where it actually backfires a little: Considering the strength of Viggo Mortensen's character and the underlying tension/mystery that develops throughout, the finale is anticlimactic and disappointingly flaccid. The credits brought forth no emotions in me, a fact I found disheartening after 100 minutes of stellar filmmaking. In The History of Violence, there was an emotional purge at the end that left me at peace, but here that was absent. It's simply too clever, and I can only wish that he had added a few more minutes to extrapolate the ongoings—not for the purposes of holding my hand, but in order to find a foundation to rest the violence and stereotypes by which the film operates.

Sexy Beast

2000 / Jonathan Glazer > Sexy Beast is a British gangster drama that's three-quarters a character study and one-quarter the anatomy of a heist. In this separation is its uniqueness, with the verbal cuts of Ben Kingsley's neurotic Don Logan running deep into the viewer's mind as its best attribute. The overall dialogue is as crisp as it is biting, and music video director Glazer's first feature film parlays quite a bit of his past vocation's skillset with its quick cuts and rich colors. Pacing is far from conventional and somewhat uneven, and this may irk some while making others happy. In its own way, however, the film succeeds in being an exercise in realistic voyeurism while keeping the aura somewhat fantastical.

28 Weeks Later

2007 / Juan Carlos Fresnadillo > While it lacks the overt philosophical base of its predecessor, it overwhelmingly makes up for it in its incredible, adrenaline-based pacing. Guided by Boyle, Fresnadillo kicks it up a notch with a simpler plotline that becomes more hectic, flashing a surprise or two in the pan as time passes. Only after the film has ended does one realize that the plot was fairly thin, but that's fine because the experience is bafflingly good. Add to it a maddening score and you've got one of the finest, if slightly more intelligent, popcorn films of the year (at least for those who aren't so afraid of the dark).

Transformers

2007 / Michael Bay > It's a not a perfect film, or even a good one. It has silly dialogue, little character development and a storyline that leaves one wanting more. But it does have: 1) Robots in Disguise™, 2) lots of awesome explosions, and 3) Megan Fox. The basic sense of childhood nostalgia that brought me to the theatres walked out fully satisfied (and this includes me yelling at the top of my lungs during many parts of the show). I do, however, feel that that any further films in the series (and unfortunately there seems to be a green light for two more) will simply water down the enjoyment gained in this first one.

Voice of a Murderer

2007 / Park Jin-pyo > It's been quite a while since Korea's had a film worth writing home about, but Park's Voice of a Murderer seems to have passed that test with flying colors. Loosely based on the true story of the kidnapping of a popular anchorman's young son, the film is filled with emotional tension that resonates from the absolute fear of helplessness. What can one do to save one's child if nothing seems to be enough? Thrown amongst the somewhat exaggerated ineptitude of the police, the parents' faith in their beliefs and themselves is questioned, leading to another powerful and memorable performance by my personal favorite Korean actor, Sol Kyung-gu. For Park, this is a less melodramatic follow-up to You Are My Sunshine, but one that shows his maturation with its grittiness and efficiency.

The Simpsons Movie

2007 / David Silverman > Truth be told, there wasn't much that could've been done to fully satisfy me here. Wherein South Park: Bigger Longer & Uncut delivered what its title promised, The Simpsons Movie essentially failed in sufficiently going beyond the boundaries of what television could already provide. It's incredibly enjoyable, but not enough to keep it decisively memorable and separate from its broadcast brethren. (Bart's penis can barely hold a candle to the brilliance of "Uncle Fucka.") But it's The Simpsons Movie, and we've waited eighteen damn years for it. My expectations were high, sure, but it's still a grand showing. I think I even teared a little when the videotape played.

Twelve and Holding

2006 / Michael Cuesta > Turning thirteen and technically becoming a teenager, that's when the struggles of adolescence becomes official. But there are always those who hit their strides earlier due to special events that surround their lives—family, death or love, for example. In these times, a child is forced to act years in advance of their actual age, replicating what they've learned from those around them and on television and books. But always in this state of being precocious, it's important to remember that they retain their naivety. That naivety is what Cuesta so very impressively portrays in Twelve and Holding. The challenge for a filmmaker with such material is never the shock factor one needs to achieve, but rather to justify its existence within the scope of the film. Cuesta's treatment is gentle, intelligent and all the while respectful to the nuances of growing up.

Suzhou River

2000 / Lou Ye > This might be the first film since the early 90s outings from Zhang Yimou and Chen Kaige that has made me believe in the future of mainland Chinese cinema. Having been unable to adjust to critically acclaimed films of Zhang Ke Jia, I was worried that most of what was being made in the mainland—of slow, deliberate pacing reminiscent of the Taiwanese New Wave. But with Suzhou River, one can hope that these elements will continue to be combined with the vibrancy present in Wong Kar-Wai's Chungking Express and the local mood of modern China. By itself, it's a tangential homage to Vertigo that's both beautiful and heartbreaking. While separately it often feels grossly derivative, the combined product is as fresh as it is youthful.

Live Free or Die Hard

2007 / Len Wiseman > Die Hard films are about being in a position of impossibility. The building, the airplane—they made sense. But when Die Hard: With a Vengeance successfully moved away from that formula, the title became a bit of a misnomer. With Live Free or Die Hard, Wiseman moves even further away from the original premise, and those who remain loyal to the originals will undoubtedly be disappointed. But I've moved on, and this is one hell of an action-packed flick. Arguably the best summer adrenaline rush since Mission: Impossible 3, once McLane starts, he never stops (although Maggie Q almost makes that happen). Enjoy the mindlessness, don't think too hard about the economics or the technology and let Willis help you forget that he's 52 years old.

Cure

1997 / Kiyoshi Kurosawa > Visible horror is often forgettable. It's the creepy feeling that remains after the film is over that really drives home the chills. Unfortunately, most films fail at this and end up being filled with unnecessitated gore or overtly pretentious psychological mazes. Cure, however, connects with the inner-horror of every man and woman, filling us with a sense of paranoia that may very well stay with us at days on end. What's amazing, though, is that that feeling isn't necessarily "evil," as most horror would expect us to presume. It's simply a feeling that seems almost eye-opening and surprisingly natural.

Knocked Up

2007 / Judd Apatow > It often seems that for a film about relationships to be good, there has to be some destructive forces involved with cynicism abound. But Apatow is better than that: Judging from his work on Freaks and Geeks, where he tackled a topic of much maligned stereotypes with a level of reverence unfound elsewhere, he's figured out how to turn common, beaten topics into constructive expositions. In Knocked Up, he successfully balances the jokes, the pop culture references (often needed to understand the nuances of the male protagonist) and the reality of an accidental pregnancy. It's touching, it's commendable and it's got Matsui.

Alpha Dog

2007 / Nick Cassevetes > I'll consider myself fortunate to start the year off with two films that were not critically well-received, but have nonetheless given me an abundance of entertainment. Along with Smokin' Aces, Cassevetes' seemingly satirical look at the lives of irreverent, hedonistic teens in Southern California is sometimes witty, sometimes outrageous, and almost impossible to stop one's self from watching. In the right light, his is a tragic mockumentary, filled with polarizing scenes of drug abuse and sex, anger and lack of control.

Emile Hirsch continues to impress and mature, and Ben Foster gives one of the more intense performances (reminiscent of Spud from Trainspotting) I imagine we'll see all year. Justin Timberlake isn't great, but is watchable. (The problem with popstars in acting is that you always focus on them, judge them deeply and in the process, forget that there is a film around them; thankfully, it's not so much the case here.) In fact, much of the acting is to the point, often over the top but fitting for Alpha Dog's ride through mayhem and madness.

The Motel

2006 / Michael Kang > The quiet subservience of youth is often incorrectly displayed in film. There lies a difference between emotionally manipulating through stereotypes and enveloping the stereotypes to build a foundation for something more. Kang does the latter here, gently and effectively. Non-actor Jeffrey Chyau's lead character is unassuming and imperfect, but is as a boy his age should be. One of the key reasons the film works is because Kang doesn't seem to approach this as an "Asian-American" film, but rather a film about growing up where the central character just happens to be Asian.

Along with Saving Face, this is arguably the only other so-called Asian-American film that I find myself recommending to others. I'm now anxiously awaiting Kang's next film, West 32nd, which as far as I know is the first film that Korea's CJ Entertainment has funded for a Korean-American director as well as Korean-American stars (John Cho and Battlestar Galactica's Grace Park).

The Queen

2006 / Stephen Frears > In listing the most impressive components of The Queen, Helen Mirren's inevitable Oscar-winning performance comes in third. Instead, it's Michael Sheen's Tony Blair that compels you to keep watching while arguably the year's best script puts on its own show. (Personally, I would hope that Sheen gets the supporting actor nod that the Golden Globes snubbed him on.) By default, I didn't think the saga surrounding the death of Princess Diana would have kept my attention. However, Peter Morgan's screenplay put to rest any such concerns with its wit and bite. With this, Frears may have further perfected his craft and one only can imagine how much better it will get.

Apocalypto

2006 / Mel Gibson > It's not nearly as profound as it would like to be, but Apocalypto is nonetheless a small triumph in filmmaking. On the surface, its entertainment value is immense, with heart-wrenching moments that gnaws past one's level of indifference. For over two hours, Gibson succeeds in keeping our attention and making us wonder what will become of our protagonist. It's finely crafted, with enough attention to detail to stave off everyone but the best of historians. If one can get over the small awning of preachiness, the film rewards the viewer with a surprisingly believable thrill ride.

Exiled

2006 / Johnnie To > A calculated work of art, Exiled is a treat to those who enjoyed To's The Mission. With the same actors in tow, the film features several classic Hong Kong-style shootouts as its main entree while serving up themes of loyalty, debt and brotherhood as its appetizers. What's for dessert, then? How about a sweet soundtrack accompanied by beautiful, angular shots that make this a memorable viewing, even if the underlying plot is superficial at best.

Borat

2006 / Larry Charles > So highly anticipated that it barely met expectations—which, in this case, is a very good thing. It's hard to judge the film on its artistic merits as it's essentially a broad practical joke on the uninformed American public (or at least those who don't fancy a premium subscription to HBO). What sets Borat apart from its spiritual brethren Jackass is an attempt at a storyline, one that the film reasonably succeeds at. Sacha Baron Cohen has done better skits than what is presented here, but this seemingly fluid compilation of punchlines (and a few scenes that tug the heart and soul) works as the clincher. This is hands down one of the best comedies of 2006, but it remains to be seen how it stands up to the test of time.

No Mercy for the Rude

2006 / Park Cheol-hie > Shin Ha-kyun once again takes the role of a deaf-mute (last seen in Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance), only this time he's a contract killer earning money for himself. Under first-time director Park's instruction, the story evolves as a black comedy while not sparing the blood. The action is swift and not the focus, which instead falls on the killer's battle with a speech disability and a woman, played wonderfully by Yun Ji-hye, who somehow becomes a part of his life. Breaking genres, the plot development is a little slow but works effectively leading to an engrossing climax. No Mercy for the Rude is a fresh surprise in what's been a fairly weak and underwhelming year for Korean cinema, and now that The Weinstein Company has picked up the North American distribution rights to the film, it should get the exposure it deserves.

Babel

2006 / Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu > Babel is an unfortunate failure on many parts: Samuel L. Jackson's now-infamous "Crash Benetton" comment at Cannes is one of the simplest yet most accurate depictions of this film. It reeks of a lazily contrived storyline, hellbent on deriving some sort of bigger meaning through mishaps and the obvious. Wherein Amores Perros tried to be an objective narrator, Babel instead chooses to manipulate the action to the conclusion it sees fit. Of the four storylines, only the Japanese one holds a sense of legitimacy: It's raw, driven with emotion and mystery and is ultimately utilized as a stopgap measure on the remainder of the mess.

The film is beautiful: For Rodrigo Prieto's cinematography, one would hope that he gets another Oscar nod after last year's unsuccessful bid with Brokeback Mountain. Undoubtedly, the two best performances of the film come from Adriana Barraza as the Mexican caretaker of Pitt's children, and Rinko Kikuchi's deaf-mute Japanese schoolgirl in need of male attention. The latter, especially, is a bewildering success, even stealing the limelight from veteran Japanese actor Koji Yakusho's subtle and masterful acting. This is also Gael Garcia Bernal's weakest to date.

To say the least, this worries me about Inarritu. Sadly, he reminds me of the path Guy Ritchie has taken, in constantly repeating an initially successful technique until it's so over the top that it just loses all credibility (see Revolver). It will be good to see him pair up with a writer other than Guillermo Arriaga, who seems to be quite busy on his own these days after his falling out with Inarritu over the authorship of 21 Grams. The potential herein was immense, with a global concept that, to my knowledge, has never been attempted. Too bad, then, that it falls into its own trap, filled with cliches and one-sided social commentary on what, exactly, we're not even sure.

12 Angry Men

1957 / Sidney Lumet > An incredible cast led by the late Henry Fonda is undoubtedly the best reason to watch the original 12 Angry Men, a film that may feel outdated on the basis of its arguments. Similar to Rififi, it's interesting to see screenwriter Reginald Rose's systematic dissection of a jury's decision-making process in the days before television shows like CSI and Law & Order. The point is not the final answer, but rather how things come to be. But for 12 Angry Men, it just feels a little too easy. It's almost successful, conversely, as a tightly packed social commentary under the veil of a drama, but feels like it misses its target due to a storyline that seems contrived for the protagonist's obvious benefit.

Thank You For Smoking

2006 / Jason Reitman > Even though his father hasn't done anything respectable in a decade, Jason Reitman certainly has—on his first try, no less. Reitman's sobering yet insanely objective view of a tobacco lobbyist (played superbly by Aaron Eckhart) is a much needed breath of fresh air from Hollywood. Recently, there's been a barrage of weak, simply blasphemous liberal propaganda films that preach in a contrived, heavy-handed way (and while some of you may not include Crash in this, I certainly do). Thank You For Smoking takes a step back and billows out a smokescreen through which we identify with the human side of the tobacco industry while being repulsed at the same time.

In the Bedroom

2001 / Todd Field > In his debut, Field crafts a quiet work that lingers at the edge of one's bones. While not as polished or impeccable as The Sweet Hereafter, both films challenge the viewer to face a state of gloom with patience, courage and hope. Tenseness is everpresent, but rarely does it overdo its charm. And while there are small missteps here and there (notably part of the climax), incredible performances from Tom Wilkinson and Sissy Spacek ultimately glues the work to one's mind.

The Power of Kangwon Province

1998 / Hong Sang-soo > It's always a bit hard to talk about Hong's films. His plots are so subtle and delicate that it's almost impossible to say anything without giving away secrets. Moreover, the emotional resonance often comes days and weeks after the first viewing. The Power of Kangwon Province, Hong's second feature film, is no different. While not as agreeable to my heart as Tale of Cinema, he once again dissects the thin border between man and woman, this time outlining a deep and brutal sense of loneliness. As with his other films, the lesson to be learned is a personal one, modified to each viewer's own experiences.

L'Enfant

2005 / Jean-Pierre & Luc Dardenne > The Brothers Dardenne were awarded with the Palme d'Or at the 2005 Cannes Film Festival for their frank and heartbreaking portrayal of a young couple with a newborn in the streets of Belgium. How much they deserved such recognition, however, is the burning question: Was L'Enfant really the tour de force of emotion that one feels at the closing shot? Or was that a neat and effective clean-up hit for an otherwise pedestrian film?

Undoubtedly, this film will bring forth combatants on both sides of the trench. I give the Dardennes credit for effectively reusing their claustrophobic, slice-of-life filmmaking style to give us a sense of realism far exceeding most commercial films. However, the characters are by default made not to like: Yes, they are good-natured and warm-hearted, but they are also irresponsible to a degree where it's hard for us to empathize and hold back judgment. In The Son, the Dardennes showed that we are good by nature, with a level of depth far beyond what is present here. But while there are moments of absolute humanity present in the midst of this exercise, what is asked of us in the end of L'Enfant seems unfair and too simple, and for that it will be insoluble for many.

Rashomon

1950 / Akira Kurosawa > No doubt that it's quite sad when such a revolutionary film does not age well: Rashomon's contrasting viewpoints and inquiries into the nature of truth was of great importance when the film had its initial release. But while it's important to respect the film for its place in the annals of history, it's bound to underwhelm the majority of viewers who've seen the same techniques further refined in a barrage of films over the past decade or two. Thus, it's important to not ask, "Is The Usual Suspects better?" but rather to focus on how it has improved upon the foundation originally laid by Kurosawa.

Fat Girl

2001 / Catherine Breillat > This is a flawed film, but one could argue that it is so by its own accord. Fat Girl is a frank dissection of adolescence, mental isolation and sex, a combination that puts the viewer in an awkward, even shameful position. The first third of the film does a tremendous job in setting up a girl's first encounter with a sheep in wolves' clothing where the dialogue, above all, is spot on. The middle third goes limp, and is driven simply by its predictability.

However, the finale remains the hotly debated topic, one that has made or broken the film for many. Typical of the French-speaking region, tension is built-up with an underlying sense that something will go wrong. And it is understandable that we believe in the world of circumstance, but circumstance is often an excuse for a cop-out. Was this a cop-out by Breillat? Unlike most films, here the answer doesn't matter. The ending is poignant, unforgettable and leaves you amazed at your own capacity to find warmth in such an absurd situation.

Fear and Trembling

2003 / Alain Corneau > Set in the Tokyo of 1990, it's hard to grasp exactly how accurately Fear and Trembling represents the typical Japanese office atmosphere. One can argue, however, if that's even the point of the film: Maybe we shouldn't notice the relative stereotypes presented here in this story about a Japan-born Belgian woman who comes back to her birthland to work in a conglomerate.

Her experiences are comic and tragic, and her pitfalls in misunderstanding the way to climb up the social ladder keeps us interested. Minus the somewhat illogical lull that occurs in the middle, much of the storyline is entertaining and curiously thought provoking. It might be harder to digest at face value (especially when we have companies like Sony being headed by a British-American), but with a grain of salt, one can find definite enjoyment in this little gem.

Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby

2006 / Adam McKay > There are a lot of jokes in Talladega Nights—in fact, almost as many as there are product endorsements—but thankfully, the success ratio is high enough that it's hard to stop laughing for much of the film. Moreover, the surrounding cast in John C. Reilly, Gary Cole, Sacha Baron Cohen and a surprisingly stunning Lesbie Bibb gives the film a balance usually found tipped in other Ferrell films. It's tongue-and-cheek, silly, self-deprecating, but thankfully knows exactly what it is (as witnessed by the outtakes during the end credits). And it's probably the best Hollywood film this summer so far.

Sweet Sixteen

2002 / Ken Loach > Winner of Best Screenplay at Cannes in 2002, Sweet Sixteen is short on style and all about substance. Set in the town of Grenock, Scotland, it primarily follows the path of Liam, a 15-year old played impeccably by local Martin Compston, as he tries to put together a future for his mum and sister.

Liam's character development is the strongest aspect, and it's easy to find ourselves anxious and cheering for him as he matures into a man. His psychological awareness and inadequacies are key, as there's always something flaky in his understanding of his relationship with his mum. This represents an Achilles' heal of an otherwise incredible teenager and is the motivation behind much of Liam's actions. It is a study, in the end, of what kind of will love gives and takes away.

One thing that definitely stands out is Loach's choice of music: Often contemporary and poppy, it gives the film—as well as the viewer—a foundation of exhuberant hope even in the bleakest of scenarios.

Daisy

2006 / Andrew Lau > What do you get when you combine Infernal Affairs director Andrew Lau with the writer/director Kwak Jae-young of My Sassy Girl? Apparently a love triangle between Jun Ji-hyun, a cop and a contract killer. Having watched the 124 minute director's cut, it's pretty understandable why the Korean audiences didn't initially take on this film: The theatrical cut had much of the initial storyline development shortened into one, tight package that skews the objectivity and thoughtfulness present in the longer version.

The film itself is somewhat slowly paced, but absolutely beautiful (as one should expect). Jun, for once, plays a girl of calm demeanor, which befits her considerably more than the loud, obnoxious teens she's portrayed in films such as My Sassy Girl and Windstruck. Kwak's strength is generally exposition, and in Daisy, his skillful storytelling is highlighted well. It's important to weigh the background plot a little less than the love story itself (which the film does successfully), but inevitably the weakest point of the film is Kwak's inability to avoid a barrage of melodrama in the finale. He's done this before, so it shouldn't be surprising by any means. Taking into effect the flock of unnecessary flashback sequences later in the film, Daisy fails to reach a higher ground—A disappointment, considering how strong a start it had.

Clerks 2

2006 / Kevin Smith > While not a big Kevin Smith fan, I do respect him for essentially making films for himself, which is a rather beautiful thing. And it just so happens that Clerks 2 feels intensely personal, which for once is an outright positive than a notable negative. Bringing closure to the Askewniverse, Smith presents us with a ridiculous combination of obscenity, hilarity and heart-warming moments that, for better or worse, keep us entertained throughout the film. Of special note was Rosario Dawson: Her character seemed to be the natural embodiment of her own self, and that shone through the screen without reservations.

Tristram Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story

2006 / Michael Winterbottom > A film within a film based on an unfilmable novel: Thankfully, it's nowhere near as complicated as it sounds. The man of a thousand faces, Winterbottom has once again changed genres and done something rather spectacular in how he structures Tristram Shandy. The narrative is quite regressive, mimicking the nature in which the original novel—The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Esq. by Laurence Sterne—was written. Steve Coogan plays the lead as well as himself (as the lead) quite well, blending reality and fiction seamlessly. And the general crop of characters remain of interest throughout the film.

The idea, however, that a film requires prerequisite knowledge for complete enjoyment is one that generally turns me off. And while foundational knowledge is necessary for Tristram Shandy, Winterbottom's direction is generally spot on as to help the viewer get through without too much trouble. Still, it's probably worth reading up on the history of the novel, as that should improve the level of satisfaction one would yield from the film.

United 93

2006 / Paul Greengrass > By definition, United 93's subject matter defies objectivity. It's hard to like it or dislike it, mostly because of social courtesy standards and the simple fact that the so-called truth will always be skewed by the filmmaker.

This paradox withstanding, the film does an excellent job in re-enacting the events that occurred on September 11. However, my primary complaint lies in the characterization of the terrorists aboard the plane: While it's essential to hear both sides of every story, I often felt that I empathized more with the terrorists because the time devoted to them paled in comparison to the passengers. One could argue this makes sense as post-9/11 media coverage has also been skewed towards the terrorists: We know where they're from, how they grew up and what they ate for breakfast everyday. But as for the passengers, they are inevitably grouped together as a collective with a singular face, and it's hard to feel a deeper emotional connection to them in such a superficial situation.

Another minor gripe is that the flight control terminology that is scattered throughout the film also diminishes the tension level because the audience will often waste precious time thinking, "Wait, what did they mean by that?" Sure, it's necessary to challenge your audience, but I believe there is an argument against that in this scenario.

Overall, though, United 93 is as appropriate a film as I could have envisioned about the incident. It's not an easy topic, and I do commend Greengrass for a brave and understandably flawed product that succeeds in its goal.

Until the Lights Come Back

2005 / Takashi Minamoto > Until the Lights Come Back revolves around six couples on Christmas Eve, a night where unidentifiable debris from space renders the city of Tokyo without electricity. It is, in short, a smarter, more contemplative and considerably more identifiable take on Love Actually. While it lasts over two hours, the film is very well-paced and succeeds in building up several different characters without having to resort to absolute cliches. It's beautiful and subtle, and while the strings aren't blatantly visible, it does end up being somewhat formulaic. But even with such a mold, it leaves an impression of contentedness that is hard to find in film.

The King and the Clown

2005 / Lee Jun-ik > Nicknamed "The Korean Brokeback," The King and the Clown surprised box office analysts when it became the highest grossing film in Korean history earlier this year. Made for a modest USD$4.5 million, Lee's film draws considerably more parallels to Kaige Chen's epic period drama Farewell My Concubine than it does to its nickname-sake.

The first half of the film is simply brilliant, telling the story of two small-time minstrels who journey to Seoul to escape abuse in the countryside. The first thing one notices is the acting: Marriage is a Crazy Thing's Kam Woo-seong and often underrated Jeong Jin-yeong, who plays the tyrannical king, give two of the strongest performances seen in Korean film since arguably Lee Chang-dong's Oasis. Second is the fact that the performances the minstrels give out in public are absolutely hilarious and thoroughly enjoyable, and that alone takes the film a notch above the ho-hum fanfare that plagues so many period dramas.

Inevitably, however, the film falls into the trap of becoming so incredibly melodramatic halfway through that one has to wonder if the screenplay is to blame or the direction. With the exception of a phenomenal operatic showcase, much of what happens inside the palace in the second half feels superfluous. But with all this being said, The King and the Clown is a must-watch for anyone curious enough to know what one in four people in South Korea took time to visit the theatre for.

A Stranger of Mine

2005 / Kenji Uchida > Directors who utilize the one-story, multiple perspectives technique generally depend on the gimmick to drive the film. For a change, however, Uchida's A Stranger of Mine gives each storyline enough strength to carry the film on its own without having to resort to "other viewpoints" for support. It's not really a gimmick here, but rather a well-thought out method to preserve holistic continuity without disrupting each character's personal storyline. The end result is a charming film that utilizes loose Japanese stereotypes (i.e., the salaryman, the yakuza) as cornerstones in both keeping our attention as well as entertaining our curiosities.

Art School Confidential

2006 / Terry Zwigoff > The term overcriticized is arguably the best way to describe Zwigoff's follow-up to the heart-warming, gut-wrenching family drama Bad Santa. Be warned, however: This is a bitterly made film, one with direct and ebullient comtempt for the academic world of art. It's unfortunate that such a well-made satire will be lost on many, especially those who will identify a little too well with the characters in the film. By the end, the joke is on everyone but those who have distanced themselves from such a subjective industry. As long as one does not take the film too seriously, the underlying message, however exaggerated, is in my opinion appropriate and necessary.

Something New

2006 / Sanaa Hamri > This is certainly not a film that was marketed properly: It's not about African-Americans or simply race issues, but rather a fairly simple, somewhat superficial yet ultimately satisfying story about the hurdles of love (and life). Along with Prime, these are the types of films that Hollywood has lost interest in, films where the Humphrey&Ingrid-type chemistry helps you empathize with the characters and storyline even if you're uninterested in the actual plot. The emotions evoked by the film are universal: Of misguided hearts, societal norms and family pressures.

Thankfully, first-time director Hamri does an excellent job in balancing style, substance and the manipulation that is so prevalent in romantic dramedies. Often, she utilizes cut-scenes to bring up a topic and then leads to an expository sequence. Surprisingly, instead of creating staccato pacing, it actually smooths out transitions and keep us glued. I do hope now that she builds on this first venture, and would love to see how she deals with a completely different topic.

Hostel

2006 / Eli Roth > The truest horror is when you find yourself identifying with the characters and their situations, and Roth hits this on the nail. After all, how many college kids have dreamed of backpacking through Europe and picking up girls along the way? Turning fantasies into nightmares is truly a gift, and that's primarily why Hostel works. It's real, in the sense that it could be occurring right now, and we could be the next victim.

The film is tightly packed: half of it is the setup, which is unusually interesting and fun, and half of it is the execution. The story is initially subtle, and since most viewers know the basic gist of what will happen, the time leading up to the execution creates a natural tension. My biggest annoyance with the film was its overuse of sound, specifically the high-pitched screeches, to evoke fear, as it felt like an awful cop-out. In retrospect, however, the final work is a well-crafted horror/thriller that ought to stay in the annals of the genre for quite a while. The ending, especially, gives me hope that Eli Roth is a man to watch.

Brick

2006 / Rian Johnson > Impressive is Johnson's ability to supplant the world of old noir-like films (a la The Maltese Falcon or North by Northwest) into a modern-day, high school setting. The dialogue is supercrisp to the point where it took me a minute to adjust to its speed and complexity. Joseph Gordon-Levitt continues to impress, following up his tremendous performance in Myterious Skin. While the setup is solid, the execution flounders at times due to somewhat lack of proper pacing. Overall, the film is still a treat even if it taxes your interest here and then.

Mission: Impossible 3

2006 / J.J. Abrams > This is the most fun I've had while watching a film this year. Entertaining from beginning to end. Better than the first two, and definitely more faithful to the television series as well. Aside from some absolute lameness (i.e., the trite plot that mirrors anti-Bush sentiments), I enjoyed this thoroughly. And Maggie Q is going to fucking blow up in this country.

Howl's Moving Castle

2004 / Hayao Miyazaki > I had high expectations for the next Miyazaki project after Spirited Away, which ranks as my favorite animated film of all time, and fortunately Howl's Moving Castle does not disappoint. Unfortunately, however, it fails to surpass the near perfection of its predecessor.

The strengths are all understandable: A decently complex, unpredictable storyline dealing with fastastic elements that get your inner child all worked up while wooing and pleasing your ADD-exceling, older self. The characters are imaginative, and the animation is vivid.

But the flaws, in the end, pull it back and make it ultimately less memorable than most of his other work. Much of the last third of the film felt rushed, the storyline often felt unclear and confusing, and it seems mostly that unless you know the story it's based on, there is too much left for interpretation that really shouldn't be. In theory, the only qualifying statement here is that Disney did an incredibly subpar job in coherently doing the English subs, and if that is true, it's a pity.

Paradise Now

2005 / Hany Abu-Assad > Paradise Now's strength is its ability to examine the psyche of a suicide bomber without relying on any violence. Abu-Assad chooses, interestingly, not to deal with the background of the conflict, but to create circumstances in which Said, the protagonist, finds himself questioning or amplifying his motives. Most of those around him act as fodder, but not until later in the film do we see Said personally account his reasons for becoming a suicide bomber.

The film is well paced and has a few great moments (e.g., after Said videotapes his goodbye speech to his family, the cameraman tells him that it didn't record properly). The ending is well done and left for interpretation. One could make a good argument that if the movie was any longer or more in-depth, it would lose a lot of the simple flair that it exhibits. Most importantly, Abu-Assad doesn't choose sides and doesn't stereotype, thereby enhancing the credibility and universality of the film.

Lilya 4-Ever

2002 / Lukas Moodysson > Although the film kept my attention throughout, it's hard to say how much was that because I actually enjoyed the story vs. how much I wanted to see what bad thing would next happen to our protagonist, a 16 year-old girl from Estonia whose mother leaves her for greener pastures in America. The whole film has the "whatever can go wrong, will go wrong" feel to it, which is fine and dandy as long as it's realistic. Unfortunately, in Lilya 4-Ever, it is realistic, and thus ends up creating a rather dark and depressing atmosphere for nearly two hours.

This is my first Moodysson film, and it delivers on quality. The storytelling isn't amazing, but by the end of the film we definitely feel for Lilya in her struggles, but at the same time wonder if she tried hard enough to make her life better. That questioning of the protagonist is the strongest point of the film, as usually we are quick to say that those who surround our protagonist are the culprits. Here, we are viewing a naive girl who lacks proper judgment, a flaw that is necessary for the poignancy the film tries to deliver.