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

Tekkon Kinkreet

2006 / Michael Arias > Tekkon Kinkreet paints a portrait of adolescence with the right pigments and shades, with beauty and sorrow, loneliness and anger all packed into tight spaces that refuse to go away once the credits roll. Arias and Studio 4°C's inventive style fits the bill perfectly, with its depiction of the fictional Treasure Town's grimy streets and the two youthful protagonists' parkour-style street running. But it's not just about how pretty it all is. The writing is superb, capturing brotherhood in a way that's neither sensationalist nor ideal. Violence and loyalty are two thematic elements that carry the film from beginning to end: The former as a medium of by which to prove the latter. It's got the kind of gutsiness that can provoke the imagination as well as the heart.

The Host

2006 / Bong Joon-ho > Much like Cloverfield is an episode of The O.C. with a monster in it, The Host is effectively a family dramedy with a monster in it. The difference between the two, thankfully, is that there is no Marissa Cooper. (If you want to throw in the fact that there are also no backstabbing stepmothers, drunk biological mothers and workaholic adopted mothers, that's also positive, but there is one bad ass archer sister you must yield for.)

Coming on the back of Bong's Memories of Murder, which I believe in some ways is objectively the finest Korean film of the decade, The Host's US$11 million budget was daunting and created enough hype in itself to make people curious what was in tow (especially after Kwak Kyung-taek's miserable failure with Typhoon's US$15 million budget). It didn't disappoint. Featuring a strong cast of Memories of Murder's Song Kang-ho, Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance's Bae Doo-na (the bad ass archer sister) and Rules of Dating's Paek Hae-il, the film brought forth much praise from its premiere at Cannes. How?

It goes back to the premise of being a family dramedy with a monster in it. This, in itself, creates a plot that isn't dependent on the monster, which, much like special effects, should sometimes be a device to further character development and storyline rather than be the focus. Along the way, Bong makes some social commentary on pollution and the American occupation (arguably the movie's weakest points), but tries his best not to forget about the little girl who's sharing the sewer with the monster itself. And the family that pulls together to save her.

The special effects are adequate and not distractive enough to bring into question its quality. The casting/acting is spot on, with every character equally contributing to the problems and solutions (which is key, since family is about sharing). The pacing is just right, the script is often hilarious (such as the brilliant funeral scene), and the resolution works in a manner that satiates viewers without insulting them. And so lamentably, I've haven't seen Korean cinema of this caliber since first catching this at the 2006 New York Film Festival.

Strawberry Shortcakes

2006 / Hitoshi Yazaki > As a story of four women in the anonymous city of Tokyo, Strawberry Shortcakes paces itself like life, with a steady unraveling while interjecting jolts of reality. Yazaki's direction is meticulous and endearing, streamlining his own craft's sensitivity to the existence of the women he's portraying. By themselves, none of the stories are necessarily special, but rather simple slices of life with which the viewers should be able to find some sort of commonality. There are some balancing issues: For example, Akiyo the escort is a complex character and almost all her scenes yield something special for the viewer. But Chihiro, the office worker, is almost intentionally stereotypically girlish, to the point where you pity her instead of extending sympathy. Somehow, though, these balancing contradictions actually make the film more poignant with its ebbs and flows.

Hannah Takes the Stairs

2007 / Joe Swanberg > The backlash against "mumblecore" generally tends to be driven by the fact that these films always focus on middle-class, post-graduate white kids who do nothing but complain about their lives. But this is arguably the best social class through which to canvass this topic. If Whit Stilmann's Metropolitan was a satirical look at the upper-class who excel at discussion and inaction, and the Hughes Brothers' Menace II Society commands attention because it tries to portray the lack of options in the urban ghetto, films like Hannah Takes the Stairs competently approaches the social classes in between who have myriad possibilities of both success and failure. And whether this optionality is displayed through lack of interest in one's occupation or discontent in relationships is often the deciding factor between the film, the viewer and whether the experience will be enjoyable.

Having miserably failed at watching Andrew Bujalski's Funny Ha Ha, I stayed away from most films in the sub-genre until this Swanberg vehicle. Co-writer and start Greta Gerwig's endearing yet infuriating title character is composed of some of the best and worst bits of ourselves and our loved ones—past and present. By the time the final two scenes come around, everything kind of, sort of, actually makes sense. The cerebral aspect of the film suddenly subsides to let the emotive aspect sneak through and, in the process, lets the viewer do the same. If mood was ever a critical ingredient of a film's success, this may just be it.

Dedication

2007 / Justin Theroux > It's easy to say that quirky indie-romances are all the rage these days, and it's even easier for Dedication to be slapped with that same label. But what I found amazing is that underneath it all, this is a re-modeled formulaic romantic dramedy with better music (by Au Revoir Simone and the surprisingly soothing Deerhoof), better acting and a better story. It isn't perfect, and it isn't going to end up on any all-time lists, but what the film does is put a refreshing coat on an otherwise conventional plot and charms us from end to end. It's an admirable directorial debut by Theroux, backed by a superb performance by Billy Crudup as the misanthropic lead who's trying to figure out how to get along with substitute illustrator Mandy Moore after his long-time collaborator, played aptly as always by Tom Wilkinson, passes away. The star, though, may be the script by David Bromberg, with its tight, sharp dialogue and memorable banter.

Lars and the Real Girl

2007 / Craig Gillespie > This is the opposite of what every independent film-viewer has come to accept: That there is a world out there without cynicism, that people are generally good, even if troubled, that love is not impossible due to external social forces. Nancy Oliver's thoughtful script is devoid of the type of silly comedy one would expect from a film about a guy and his "real doll." Instead, the laughter is a gut response in relation to everyday life, about seeing things and understanding life's simple ironies and accepting them in their due course. Lars and the Real Girl provides the foundation for another superb performance by Ryan Gosling that ought to have given him an Oscar nod. This is, without a doubt, one of the most surprising finds of 2007.

Gone Baby Gone

2007 / Ben Affleck > Whatever you may say about the elder Affleck, know that his directorial debut is as sharp and promising as any this year. In supplement, also know that the younger Affleck is burgeoning into a full-fledged actor of a certain range and emotion that ought to impress for some time. Putting these two together with Dennis Lehane's novel and a superb performance from The Wire's Amy Ryan, we eventually come to find a final product that utilizes a child kidnapping as a device via which to question and analyze morality. Undoubtedly, one of the toughest distinctions over right and wrong is faced by those who are paid to uphold the law, and Gone Baby Gone explores this to a satisfying and almost fatalistic degree.

A Mighty Heart

2007 / Michael Winterbottom > There are two significant breakthroughs in A Mighty Heart: We learn that it is possible for Winterbottom to produce an apolitical film. Unlike The Road to Guantanamo, which plays the West as the villain from the get go, the film doesn't utilize the people in the story to prove anything—As a bastard child of 9/11, A Mighty Heart rivals only Reign on Me in its appreciation of the event's after-effects from a non-agenda viewpoint. It is tactful and intelligent, though not necessarily forgiving or hopeful of the strife and confusion that surrounds our current society.

We also get to enjoy Angelina Jolie in a role that brings her back down to earth, finds us focusing on her character and not the Hollywood megastar that she is. This is a joint accomplishment on both Winterbottom and Jolie's part that I find impressive, to take the celebrity out of a film and put in its place the strong-willed but broken hearted Marianne Pearl. Combined with an always impressive Irfan Khan, the cast of both professional and non-professional actors deliver an emotionally engrossing picture not to be taken lightly.

Michael Clayton

2007 / Tony Gilroy > Michael Clayton is easy to like: Other than its somewhat long running-time and debatable ending, Gilroy's directorial debut is void of any crass errors. George Clooney puts forth another intelligent performance that keeps him atop the top tier of Hollywood actors, but Tom Wilkinson ends up outshining him in a part that ought to get him an Oscar nomination at the very least. With its issues of corporate negligence and capitalist morality, the film is contemporary yet fresh. Its approach is akin to a lighter version of The Insider that's better fit for the masses—there's just enough action and craziness within to keep it riveting to those without an attention span. This all works well, but what trips the complete product is that it's just too well packaged by the time the credits roll. But while there's not much to hold onto past the two hours of celluloid, it must be said that this is one of the finest efforts major Hollywood has put forth in quite a while.

Tell No One

2006 / Guillaume Canet > Gripping from the get go, the manner in which Tell No One unravels is both exhausting and exciting. Canet's complex plotline is a gem that's further enhanced by a simply terrific performance from Francois Cluzet, stunning, ambient cinematography and the inclusion of sporadic English music that adds to the mood while seamlessly fitting into the French setting. In short, it remains the type of murder mystery/thriller that we've seen again and again, but the veil on it is so thick with heart and intensity that we forget about past experiences and get sucked in without fail.

This is England

2007 / Shane Meadows > The biggest problem for This is England has to do with how often in the stateside it'll be compared to American History X. The latter was notoriously lacking in dimension, filled with more artificial punches and a biased tweak that did little to explain the foundation of supremacists groups. But Meadows' latest venture is far cleverer and reverent, utilizing the Falklands War as a backdrop to dissect the rationale behind the sort of fascism that Thatcher's term brought forth in England. Centralized around a 12 year-old (played brilliantly by newcomer Thomas Turgoose), the film rarely judges and generally lets emotions adjust to the social situations as they are seen fit.

Both character and subplot development are somewhat erratic, but once Stephen Graham enters the screen, much is forgotten. His portrayal of "Combo" is worthy of much praise, and shocks and awes the viewer into being glued to the cinema. In addition to that, This is England's multi-layered discussion of racial tensions, class relations and national identity drive the film into being a touching, memorable experience.

Sunshine

2007 / Danny Boyle > Sunshine crescendos into its finale in a way no other film has this year: It breaks through expectations into something surreal, almost messy, yet dazzlingly calculated. Boyle etches into our memories fear, hope, excitement and despair within a span of two hours by showing us the end of the world and the ways in which our ingenuity tries to prevent it. It's intelligent and amusing, fusing genres and philosophies, and makes up for the arguable irrationality in the script with a thrill ride that's as reverent for the body as it is for the mind.

Sweet Smell of Success

1957 / Alexander Mackendrick > Sweet Smell of Success is as dark and biting now as it must have been in its heyday. Burt Lancaster's performance as a ruthless society columnist is second only to Tony Curtis' mercurial, almost repulsive role as the public relations agent in constant need of dire favors. It's always interesting to see a film from half a century ago and think that the world hasn't changed much. While we all imagine a nice, quiet place pre-Internet, films like this are kind enough to show that people are always the same, and that it's just their surroundings that change as time goes on.

1931 / Fritz Lang > Does M hold up to our current standards of what a film such as this ought to be? Strangely, yes. Unlike others in the genre which have lost their luster due to overused plot twists or simply a sense of age and awkwardness, M stands firm. Lang's filming is claustrophobic but not overdone; his storytelling is imaginative but coherent; and his treatment of the villain is respectful but not apologetic. In fact, not only does it hold up, it actually still outdoes its successors in terms of intelligence and overall composition.

Nowadays, tension in serial killer films seem necessary to be represented throughout the tenure. However, in M, the great beauty is in its objectivity. The serial killer himself—and his capture—is only part of the game. The cops and robbers, the bystanders and victims, they all play a part in the total landscape without overshadowing the other. Moreover, it's impossible not to see what it's influenced (most notably, in my mind, was Sympathy for Lady Vengeance). Increasingly, this is one of the few classics where a modern remake would be interesting just to see if 76 years of technology and know-how could actually trump the original.

The Lives of Others

2006 / Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck > Every year, there are a few films that have nearly flawless executions. In 2006, The Lives of Others just might have led that pack. While I couldn't find myself as emotionally attached to the story as those who are natives of Germany or have been in similar collectivist situations, interest in the film rarely waned once the plot started to roll. The story of the East German Stasi is not one I was previously familiar with, but the 1984-esque paranoia that rung around the film was thick, congestive and effective. Personally, I couldn't agree with some of the character development and emotional manipulation that occurs as the show goes on, but overall, I also can't be angry that this beat out Pan's Labyrinth at the Oscars for Best Foreign Film. There's much merit in its cold, calculated success.

The Namesake

2007 / Mira Nair > It's a rare thing that celluloid beats its paper foundation, but The Namesake does just that. Personally, I've found Jhumpa Lahiri's writing style to be better fitting for short stories, but maybe I'm biased: The first two-thirds of the novel deal with things I've personally experienced, while the third is fairly uncharted territory. For that, maybe Nair's pacing fit me better.

The film itself is graceful, respectful, ignoring the stereotypes that often plague cinema that crosses cultural boundaries (and for this, both Lahiri and Nair ought to be credited). It's not perfect, but it has enough universal identification that it should be able to appeal to most of who have a chance to view it. The only dubious factor with the film is Kal Penn being casted for the lead role: He does a suitable job, but it's just hard to forget that this is Kumar we're talking about. The rest is quite appropriate, with special note to Tabu's performance as the beautiful, maturing mother who can make or break the viewer's heart.

Reign Over Me

2007 / Mike Binder > In Reign Over Me, Binder continues displaying the skill of creating laughter in the face of tragedy he utilized so effectively in The Upside of Anger. And in doing so, he may have crafted one of the best films dealing with loss since The Sweet Hereafter, while taking an indirect approach towards 9/11 through a perspective that hasn't yet been fully explored. Sandler is spot on, but Cheadle, as he so often does, steals the show as the man who you know has problems but just can't face them. Sandler is his foil and while we see him transform, Cheadle follows suit ever so subtly. It has its slow moments and its awkward moments. It's not brilliant, and it isn't groundbreaking, but it has the kind of heart that one cannot often find in Hollywood these days.

Venus

2006 / Roger Michell > A performance worthy of an Oscar in most years, but just not this year. Unfortunately, that's the luck that Peter O'Toole has had to deal with in his lifetime, having lost the golden statuette seven times (and an eighth maybe a week away). In Venus, he gives it all in a bittersweet performance where he undoubtedly reaches into his own experiences as an aging actor of great caliber. Hanif Kureishi's stellar, understated script uplifts O'Toole and those around him, including a refreshing Jodie Whittaker as the young girl that turns the old actor's life upside down.

Whatever awkward moments there are in Venus, by the end we find ourselves thinking that these emotions are byproducts of the mental processes shaped by society. From the perspective of someone who looks into the future and wonders what old age will bring, the film reassures that there's no definite end to enjoyment and learning. Triggers are everywhere, and the soft and gentle presence of a young woman is enough to reinvigorate those at the end of the plank. It's memorable and sweet, tasteful and delicate. One of the year's best.

Stranger Than Fiction

2006 / Marc Forster > In the third film since his breakout Monster's Ball, Forster once again takes his style and does a modest 90 degree turn, being only second to Winterbottom in diversity of his content and style. Here, Forster's playing a game on two levels: In the very basic sense, Stranger Than Fiction is a tragicomedy that Ferrell himself does the best to figure out. But as an underlying, it ends up being a self-deprecatory piece of work about the medium of writing as well as audience expectations of films.

Strung at the hip by a surprisingly solid and poignant performance by Ferrell, the film touches base with quite a few obvious everyday philosophies (including a non-so-stubborn version of carpe diem) and turns them into something more solvent. It's a great find and one of the best American films of 2006 (second only to The Departed in my count). It includes one of my favorite scenes of the year: I imagine it'll warm your heart too when you see it. Also, watch out for writer Zach Helm, as this sets up a high bar for what may be a great career.

The Departed

2006 / Martin Scorsese > In short, The Departed is the best American film of the year, and the best work from Scorsese since Goodfellas. Whatever qualms one may have based on their positive experience with Infernal Affairs, these should be given less gravity due to the meticulous craftsmanship that Scorsese employs in his direction. The film is not perfect (which is a common ailment for most remakes), but isn't so mostly because of certain personal preferences. It is, however, sharply written with an incisive comic pull and drenched in objective emotion.

The cast is flawless (so much so, that the film was recently awarded Best Ensemble of the year by the National Board of Review), with Leonardo DiCaprio giving what is perhaps his finest performance to date and worthy of an Oscar nomination. Mark Wahlberg gives the film an extra edge (and definitively separates it from the original), and Vera Farmiga is a promising, if delayed, discovery. The only weak spot seemed to be Martin Sheen, but that seems to be attributable to the script's momentary weakness rather than the actor's own abilities.

I found it fascinating how The Departed barely felt like Infernal Affairs. While hard not to continuously compare the two, there were more than enough fresh jolts in the Scorsese venture to take my mind away from the original. But as for the inevitable question of which is better, the honest truth, however sidestepping, is that they are different films with different styles based on an underlying idea that alone could not have made these the works of art that they are.

Casino Royale

2006 / Martin Campbell > Casino Royale is the best Bond film since 1969's On Her Majesty's Secret Service. It has style, grit, heart and a story that actually works. All too often, I've found my attention fading by the 7th inning stretch. Chases and shootouts mean considerably less if there's no plausible reason behind them. And by plausible, it's not just how it affects the global power paradigm, of the good versus the bad, but rather how humane and reasonable the motivations are. And while I'm not a fan of Paul Haggis, maybe it was his screenwriting touch that made this happen. (One could probably argue that the subject matter kept his heavy-handedness in check, and if that's true, I do look forward to him working on the next Bond film.)

As for Daniel Craig, the man is not Sean Connery. And that is exactly why he works. While Clive Owen would have been my first choice for Brosnan's replacement, Craig has shown that he fits the bill, much like the tailored suit that Vesper Lynd prepares for him. His youth reflects appropriately in what is the beginning of 007. The screenplay supports him throughout, offering us more insight into his character than ever before. Eva Green is nearly perfect as Vesper Lynd, and arguably the best and most complex Bond girl since Jane Seymour's Solitaire in Live and Let Die. Her onscreen chemistry with Craig is one of the key reasons the film works so well.

Casino Royale has me more excited about the future of James Bond than I've ever been. The style seems to be going the right direction, Daniel Craig is an excellent fit and they've finally taken to writing a properly thought-out script. It would be wonderful to see an arch-nemesis of sorts, similar to Blofeld, as well as further background on Bond himself. Either way, the next Bond, rumored to be a loose continuation of Casino Royale, is now on my calendar for 2008.

Marie Antoinette

2006 / Sofia Coppola > After everything, there's just something, however minute, missing from Marie Antoinette for it to become the rich and evocative biopic that Coppola must have intended. It could have been a different ending, better pacing or simply the addition or deletion of a storyline. But as it stands, the film is far more memorable for its dresses of grandeur, the decadence of the Rococo and Kirsten Dunst's performance in a role that very much becomes her. (Which, effectively, makes up for her being atrociously cast in Elizabethtown.)

There is a scene early on in the film where Dunst first wakes up at Versailles only to find a troupe of women and men at her servitude. In the following minutes where she is dressed, Coppola somehow manages to define the reasoning behind the French Revolution. For me, it stands as the defining moment in the film where she so subtly argues for and justifies the revolution. But what if one asks, "What is this film trying to say?" Coppola's intention is unclear: Are we to understand the aristocratic idiocy of the period, or focus on the girl in the center and try to empathize with her as a person, not as the Queen of France?

But letting such lack of clarity slide, it's hard to imagine not enjoying the anachronistic usage of modern music (particularly Aphex Twin's "Jynweythek Ylow" and Bow Wow Wow's "Candy") and the sheer jubilance Dunst's smile evokes. Using all that is style, Coppola did succeed in making me feel for Marie-Antoinette's predicament. The fusion of style and substance is a little skewed toward the former, but this is ultimately a film for the heart, not the mind. It is as imperfect and naive as Marie-Antoinette herself.

Invisible Waves

2006 / Pen-Ek Ratanaruang > It's hard to gauge if those who liked Last Life in the Universe will also like Invisible Waves. But those who have the patience for Pen-Ek's multinational opus—with Japanese, Korean, Chinese and Thai stars represented and much of the dialogue in English—will be rewarded by the film's ability to slowly but surely question the value of loyalty, self-worth and happiness.

Not surprisingly, the film is also absolutely gorgeous thanks to the hands and eyes of cinematographer Christopher Doyle. Its pacing is a little skewed, with each third of the film speeding up at twice the pace of the previous. And while this causes the film to start slowly, it successfully mimics the protagonist's mindset so that we feel the similar type of rush in the latter third as he does. The dialogue in Invisible Waves is seemingly simple, but always struck certain chords, however small. Similar to its predecessor, it's somewhat hard to explain exactly why I enjoyed it so much. But I did, and for that I can do little but to recommend it wholeheartedly to anyone who's willing and able.

Half Nelson

2006 / Ryan Fleck > Bad before the good: Much of the film's realism and objectivity is lost through the "mini-lectures" made on society and the government. While interesting, they take away from the interplay between the king (Gosling) and queen (Epps) of the show. The only reasonable explanation for these inserts might be that writers Fleck and Anna Boden needed a little bit of this and that to stretch the original short ("Gowanus, Brooklyn") into this full-fledged feature.

That aside, the poignancy of Half Nelson is present in the way it's resonated in my mind for the past few weeks. Against the backdrop of Broken Social Scene's score, Gosling's portrayal of a crack-addicted schoolteacher in the inner-city is a testing experience. The beats are heavy, and the film is filled with areas of gray that have little in terms of definition. Shareeka Epps' performance as Gosling's headstrong pupil is glowing—undoubtedly one of the breakout young actors of the year. Not much of the story is predictable. The second half of the film crescendoes into its final sequence, one of heartbreak and simplicity. Things click, and things may or may not work. Thankfully, the film does.

Little Miss Sunshine

2006 / Jonathan Dayton & Valerie Faris > The primary complaint about Little Miss Sunshine has been how contrived its characters are, how they so easily fit into sitcom slots. It's true, but I found it to be a positive attribute of the film. Each family member is exploited to create a ranged satire of the American dysfunctional household. It's not meant to be cheap and actually comes out surprisingly clever.

At times, I found myself genuinely laughing, the way only a few films have (such as this year's Family Ties and last year's The Upside of Anger). We end up empathizing with much of the silliness, sometimes directly and other times in a metaphorical sense. Much of this is due to the superb acting: Virtually everyone shines, including a heartbreaking sequence by The Girl Next Door's Paul Dano.

The writing is crisp, but one could make an argument that the plot is a little too connect-the-dots. It ends up working, however, mostly because of the "road movie" nature of the film. Indeed, it's a wonderful ride from beginning to end, even if one finds the return home a little muted in direction. The final revelations aren't holistic, and that may be enough to keep it from reaching higher ground.

Sorry

2002 / Shin Togashi > In short, Sorry's portrayal of "first love" may be the finest of its kind ever put on celluloid. And no, this can't be compared with Romeo or Juliet or something equally as melodramatic. What we have here is a simple, beautiful but strong as ever tale of a boy who's just hit puberty falling head over heels for a girl who he randomly comes across at a pickle store. The film's comic and often childish, but that's fitting for our 12-year-old protagonist. Sorry matures as he does, step by step, by unwounding the mystery that is love.

Family Ties

2006 / Kim Tae-yong > It's probably quite sad that only 200,000 or so Koreans saw this film when it was released in May. But one has to wonder if the horrendous marketing (the posters depict a gleeful, silly family that scream slapstick and cheesy) is to blame. What the populace missed out on, sadly, is a meticulously crafted take on the nuances of family life, generations and how time helps us heal and grow.

The primary reason for its success as a film is its freshness: While there are typical melodrama storylines present, Kim does an excellent job in making sure to not continuously delve into cliches. The dialogue is very true to life, often genuinely comedic and timed just right. It's rare to find a film nowadays where one minute you're in a pit of sadness, and then suddenly you find yourself laughing uncontrollably.

The cast is superb as well. Moon So-ri, the woman who can do no wrong in my book, bounces back from the muddy script in Bewitching Attraction to score an incredible yet subtle performance. Kong Hyo-jin shines as an enigmatic daughter of a dying woman, though the the solidity of the script makes almost every character and actor look good.

It's hard to recall if any film in recent memory has approached the subject matter of family relationships in as intelligently a fashion as this. Kim's portrayal is delicate, fair and realistic. Even the very end, which for a minute or two seems incredibly nonsensical, is surprisingly fitting—That, to me, was proof positive of a great two hours.

Y Tu Mama Tambien

2001 / Alfonso Cuaron > Y Tu Mama Tambien is the sort of sexual exploration film that validates the genre itself. It takes a while to peel off its layers, from an adolescent idyll to sexual discovery to a certain realization that the harder you press against another, the quicker you become repelled. Certain lessons hidden inside the film are harsher than one would expect (and hope for), however the beauty of the film may lie in the fact that it will mean something different for everyone.

Ripely timed, the sexual sequences are enthralling and necessary. As a road movie, it depicts the countryside of Mexico through the eyes of two metropolitan Mexicans and a Spaniard. This causes a bit of annoyance at times when the narrator takes on a considerably more socio-political tone. Thankfully, it doesn't overshadow the relationships between those in focus. Now, who could have guessed that Cuaron's follow-up to this would be Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban?

Metropolitan

1990 / Whit Stillman > Having the vibes of an upper class, Manhattan Pretty in Pink, Stillman's directorial debut tackles ideas of social mobility and structure through the eyes of college students on Christmas vacation. Heavily conversation-based, it's funny, sardonic and Chris Eigeman's Nick Smith defines both the film and much of his generation. The writing is incredibly sharp and witty, with intelligent one-liners that drive home each respectable point. It's surprising that this has been off the radar of indie cultists for so long, but that should change with the recent remastered release of the film by Criterion.

Isabella

2006 / Edmond Pang > Recoginized with the Silver Bear for Best Film Music at this year's Berlinale, Pang Ho-Cheung's story is of a pre-handover Macau cop and the discovery of the daughter he never knew he had. The cop, played by a suddenly mature Chapman To is often outshined by the daughter, played by Canto-pop start-turned serious actress Isabella Leung. Her performance is surprising, if only because she pins down the mercurial behavior of the daughter so well.

Unlike most films, Peter Kam's score refuses to take a backseat to the actors, and often pads idyllic sequences so they end up having as much breadth as those with blatant meaning. The story turns conventional halfway through, but luckily changes back into something a little more special at the end. There is strength in how it culminates, and any sort of seesaw Pang went through in revealing plot details are ironed out. Of special note is the elegant beauty of the sets, taking advantage of the Portuguese-influenced architecture and a bounty of colors reminiscent of Wong Kar-Wai's In the Mood for Love. Isabella is a simple, wondrous pleasure.

Millennium Mambo

2001 / Hou Hsiao-Hsien > Millennium Mambo is the first time I've taken the time to actually sit through a film made by one of the Taiwanese New Wave directors. While it tested my patience at several instances, I also felt strangely drawn to it. There isn't much of a plot in the contentional sense; people do mundane things, but ironically we identify with these events considerably more than a car chase. Turn of the century techno/house permeates the soundtrack, and glowing, neon colors end up being strangely soothing to the eye.

I'm unsure why I like this film. It felt a bit like the old Wong Kar-Wai on acid, and must have been a considerable influence on Coppola's Lost in Translation. Shu Qi is heartbreaking and gorgeous, evoking a sentimentalist innocence not often felt in films nowadays. In this process, Hou has successfully challenged me to revisit his other films as well as those of his compatriot Tsai Ming-Liang.