Hiển thị các bài đăng có nhãn KFC. Hiển thị tất cả bài đăng
Hiển thị các bài đăng có nhãn KFC. Hiển thị tất cả bài đăng

Thứ Bảy, 21 tháng 12, 2013

RIO LOBO - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Ho-Hum Howard Hawks is better than no Howard Hawks at all as this amiable, watchable John Wayne western vehicle proves.



Rio Lobo (1970) **1/2
dir. Howard Hawks
Starring John Wayne, Jorge Rivero, Christopher Mitchum, Jennifer O’Neill, Sherry Lansing and Jack Elam

Review By Greg Klymkiw

While I have fond memories of Rio Lobo from when I first saw it on the big screen as a kid with Dad, I should have guessed something was wrong when my memories were little more than assuming I’d enjoyed the picture. No other details were seared into my brain save for the opening train robbery sequence. After seeing this movie 41 years later on Blu-ray release, I can definitely vouch for the train robbery – it’s a genuinely kick-ass set piece.

Having the distinction of being the last movie directed by the great Howard Hawks, this might perhaps be the only reason not to completely dismiss it. That said, Rio Lobo is a reasonably pleasant 114-minute duster. In spite of the familiar territory of the plot, the screenplay, co-written by Leigh Brackett, is a loose re-telling of Hawks’s classic Rio Bravo and the entertaining but not-so-classic El Dorado (both of which were also written by Brackett). And gosh-darn-it, the picture is not without merit.

Beginning during the civil war, the story involves a Union Colonel (played by John Wayne) whose pay train is robbed by a couple of Confederates (played by Jorge Rivero and Christopher Mitchum). Wayne realizes they’re the two responsible for the hard, dirty work, but the robbery itself has been ordered by someone inside the Union army. When the war is over, Wayne becomes pals with Mitchum and Rivero (he views their pre-war actions as just that – an “act of war”) and the three of them team up to track down the Union traitor (whose actions Wayne views as an “act of treason”). This all converges when the trio helps out the settlers in and around the nearby Rio Lobo, who are beleaguered and bullied by a corrupt land baron. (I’ll let you guess whom the Union Army traitor turns out to be.) At one point, like the aforementioned Hawks westerns, a motley assortment of good guys hole up in a jail whilst the bad guys lay siege.

So in terms of plot, it’s mostly a case of been there done that, but there are worse crimes a western can commit. It’s all in the delivery.

On the plus side, the action set pieces are extremely thrilling. Hawks was wise to hire ace action and stunt genius Yakima Canutt (the man solely responsible for the legendary chariot race in Wyler’s Ben-Hur, among other great cinematic rollercoaster rides), and his second unit direction includes some truly masterful carnage and derring-do.

Another good move on Hawks’s part was re-enlisting screenwriter Brackett to his cause. Not only is the plotting reasonably solid, the movie is peppered with some really crisp dialogue. The problem is that so many of the actors in the film are completely at a loss as to how to deliver their lines.

John Wayne seems up to the challenge, but having to play opposite the sad likes of Jennifer O’Neill (her line-thudding monotone is especially egregious) and the handsome but stilted Jorge Rivero appears to visibly drive the Duke to distraction onscreen. On the other hand, Wayne is such a great actor and true star that one is still glued to him throughout and happy enough to amble along the familiar trail his character is on. Our first introduction to Wayne is especially terrific and sets the tone of his character perfectly. When a young officer approaches Wayne and apologizes for disturbing him, Wayne responds in his deadpan drawl, “You were told to disturb me. You’d have been a lot sorrier if you hadn’t.” Gotta love the Duke!

One also assumes Brackett had a hand in the many funny jokes involving Wayne’s paunchy physique. As the story goes, when Hawks was running into trouble with William Faulkner on the screenplay for The Big Sleep he demanded the immediate assistance of “that guy Brackett” to punch things up. Having written primarily science fiction to that point, Brackett also wrote an amazing hard-boiled detective novel, “No Good for a Corpse,” and the writing endeared itself to Hawks as just what he needed. Throughout many pictures, including those of Hawks, “that guy Brackett” handled HERSELF with the craft and aplomb of an old pro – that she most definitely was. My favourite John-Wayne-directed joke in Rio Lobo is when some strapping young men lift his dead weight after knocking him out cold and one of them quips, “He’s heavier than a baby whale”.

The banter delivered via the screenplay to O’Neill and Rivero is exceptionally well written, but neither actor can attack it with the ping-pong ferocity that was such a hallmark of Hawks’s great comedies and most certainly not to the level displayed by Bogie and Bacall in Hawks’s first teaming with Brackett in The Big Sleep. As the film proceeds, one can almost feel the frustration Hawks must have been fraught with as scene after scene involving these two drags the movie down to some considerable depths.

Much better in the supporting cast is future producer and studio head Sherry Lansing who proves to be a gorgeous and terrific actress. If only she’d had O’Neill’s role. There’s also able support from Robert Mitchum’s son Christopher, who is a lightweight compared to Dad but attractive and affable enough. He’d have been great in Rivero’s role. Thankfully, there are some wonderful old hands like Jack Elam (chewing the scenery like only he could) and a nice bit from Hank (Ole Mose) Worden.

If you’re a fan of Hawks, westerns, good writing (albeit butchered by some awful actors) and The Duke, Rio Lobo will prove to be worth seeing. How memorable it will be is another question, but I can assure you that my second helping after four decades was not without merit.

"Rio Lobo" is available on Blu-ray from Paramount Home Video. It has no extra features, but the movie looks just fine in high-definition, and thankfully some over-zealous flunky in the transfer suite hasn’t seen fit to remove the grain and given the film some quality colour balance. Should you buy it? I would. But that’s me.

Thứ Năm, 22 tháng 8, 2013

YOU'RE NEXT! - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Some effective jolts, within its been-there-done-that script.

You're Next! (2011) **1/2
dir. Adam Wingard
Starring: Sharni Vinson, AJ Bowen, Joe Swanberg, Margaret Laney, Barbara Crampton, Nicholas Tucci, Wendy Glenn, Amy Seimetz, Ti West and Larry Fessenden

Review By Greg Klymkiw

This energetic, crisply directed home invasion horror thriller delivers up the scares and gore with some panache. I especially loved the delightfully grotesque and ultra-creepy animal masks like those really cute lifelike ones you can buy for your kids at Zoo gift shops. In fact, the deadly home-invading carnage-purveyors might only have been creepier if they all wore matching Larry Harmon Bozo the Clown masks. (Or even creepier than that, if they WERE actually ALL Larry Harmon - but that, I'm afraid is another movie.)

In addition to the aforementioned, the picture is chock-full of babes. When genre thrillers - especially those set in one primary location are sans babes, it's the kiss of death. Always.

Here, though, we not only get babes, we get a mega-kick-ass Aussie chick played spiritedly by Sharni Vinson. Her character, it is revealed, was raised in a survivalist compound Down Under.

I kid you not!

An Aussie Survivalist Babe!!!

What's not to like?

Well, not that I expect much in the way of originality from this sort of movie, especially if the killings are conceived and dispatched with both humour and aplomb - as they most certainly are in the picture, but it's almost all for nought since early on we are assailed with clues which suggest the movie is going to have a twist that falls into the category of: " Oh fuck, I can see an obvious 'twist' coming from miles away and I hope to Christ it's just a red herring and the filmmakers surprise me with something as sick and twisted as what's already on display in terms of the genuine jolts and gore."

But no!

There it is in all its dullsville glory - the dreaded twist I won't reveal for the great unwashed who don't see it coming! (Anyone who doesn't see "it" coming needs a thorough brain wash.)

Come on, guys! Give me a break. Frankly, I'd have been happier if there was NO reason given for the killings save for a whack of psychos just doing what psychos do best. That really would have been better than the, uh... twist.

It's kind of too bad, because the first half of the movie proceeds like a delightful bat out of hell.

An affluent couple (the female half played by the still-delectable Re-Animator babe Barbara Crampton) are celebrating their 35th wedding anniversary in their ultra-chic country mansion and have invited all their kids and assorted significant others to join them. The characters sharing bloodlines are straight out of some lower-drawer Albee or O'Neill play and the conversation round the dinner table plays out with plenty of funny, nasty sniping

Great stuff!

Then the killing starts!

Even Greater!

And then, the aforementioned plot twist!

Uh, not great! Not good! Not even passable.



Thankfully, the carnage continues, but for this genre geek, the movie never quite recovers from a twist that was probably meant to be clever or something. I hate that! This is exactly the sort of thing that can drag potentially great genre pictures right down the crapper. It's too bad, really, because I really think screenwriter Simon Barrett has a lot more going for him than resorting to crap like that. He delivers a decent backdrop, first-rate sniping and a passel of great killings.

And, of course, let's not forget the babe raised on a survival compound in Australia.

Now that is truly inspired!!!

You're Next was unveiled during Midnight Madness at the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF 2011) and is now playing theatrically via E-One.

Chủ Nhật, 4 tháng 8, 2013

BERBERIAN SOUND STUDIO - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Toby Jones overshadows Berberian Pretensions


Berberian Sound Studio (2012)
dir. Peter Strickland **1/2
Starring: Toby Jones
Review By Greg Klymkiw

Sound has been with movies almost from the beginning. Long before Al Jolson uttered the immortal words "You ain't heard nothin' yet" in 1927's The Jazz Singer, filmmakers experimented with having original scores composed for their films and even designing live foley and sound effects - all of which were achieved by full orchestras for some of the bigger releases in more established picture palaces. Once the "talkies" came, though, a whole new art and craft began to develop - not just synch sound recordists on set, but all the magicians in the sound studios who created effects, mixed and tweaked the sound and edited the sound.

In this day and age, sound has become, for better or worse (and depending on the film), the primary instigation for how, why, where and when to actually make picture cuts in genre pictures. Sadly, far too many contemporary directors that have absolutely no eye for creating decent action or suspense sequences, rely solely on sound to make up for their lack of talent. Or rather, they think they know precisely what they're doing and have their butts saved by editors as well as the low standards of audiences all afflicted with ADD.

One dreadful (and idiotically overrated) director after another (Christopher Nolan and JJ Abrams to name two especially egregious members of this ever-expanding club of dimwits), piece together a wide variety of badly composed, poorly conceived and mostly close shots, throw them into the post-production blender where picture editors must save the miserable footage by using sound as the driving force behind their cuts rather than propelling the image forward to hit dramatic beats. The moron directors think it's all about pace and creating suspense from cacophony when in actual fact, this style of shooting and cutting exhausts an audience to a point where watching the film has less to do with being able to follow a story as it is to be whacked repeatedly in the face.

We're bludgeoned and pummelled senselessly by sound and a whole whack of great artists and craftspeople in this field are turned into volume (of the amount AND level of audio variety) generators.

While, there are a number of great movies about movies, the only one that brilliantly and perfectly captures the art of sound men is still Brian DePalma's seminal thriller Blow Out which starred John Travolta as a movie sound recordist who tries to solve a mystery using the location sound he's recorded. (The Conversation counts as a great "sound" picture, but its focus is surveillance rather than the movies.)

Berberian Sound Studio could have been the best movie about sound in movies since DePalma's mournful thriller, but finally, it achieves that for about 30 of its 92 minutes until it starts spinning its wheels and diving into bargain basement Lynch-like surrealism and sledge hammer (albeit somewhat disingenuous) commentary on the effects of screen violence.

But, first, let's concentrate on the good.

Set during the heyday of Italian horror/suspense thrillers of the 70s, the picture tells the tale of Gilderoy (Toby Jones), a pathologically introspective sound man (which, ultimately, all great sound guys must be). He's as twee and British as Queen Elizabeth (but not quite as inbred) and he's taken a job presiding over the aural arts being applied in post-production to the latest blood-spattered giallo epic by Santini (Antonio Mancino), the reigning maestro of spaghetti horror.

At first, the film is a loving homage to the magnificent giallo genre and a great fish out of water tale. As Gilderoy works his sound magic on this ultra-violent and decidedly misogynistic gore-fest, things slowly and creepily build (not unlike the best Polanski) to a point where dream, reality and nightmare collide and eventually cross a line where we're experiencing a potential mental breakdown.

Alas, once the picture crosses over into this territory, tedium starts to set in. It's too bad. Toby Jones delivers a crackling good performance, whilst the production design and cinematography go above and beyond the call of duty in creating an atmosphere that seems like it was ripped out of the single greatest movie decade in the history of movies. But, as sure as Dario Argento is Italian, Gilderoy's mind starts to crack under the weight of the long hours, a xenophobic attitude (on both sides of the equation) and image after image of the most brutal violence against women.

What's a bit disappointing is that this is our expectation almost from the beginning and our hope, because the first half hour IS so cool and atmospheric (and a movie geek's wet dream), is that it will not veer into familiar territory. As such, the movie feels like a short film idea stretched out interminably over 90 minutes.

It was fun, however, being in a sound studio that bore all the familiar traces of what it was like to work with real film, mag stock and optical. No digital allowed, thanks! Weirdly, though, the most disappointing aspect next to the by-the-numbers surrealism is the fact that the movie SOUNDS like most movies today.

Oh, how I wish it all sounded like a great centre-speaker mono mix with that gentle hiss that can only emanate from optical and analog sound. If Berberian Sound Studio truly had the courage of its convictions - it should have adhered to every element of the period.

A good script might have worked wonders, also.

"Berberian Sound Studio" originally played during the Toronto International Film Festival's 2012 edition of the Vanguard series. It is currently in theatrical release via FilmsWeLike. In Toronto, it is playing at the TIFF Bell Lightbox.

Thứ Hai, 29 tháng 7, 2013

PARADISE: LOVE - DVD review - Review By Greg Klymkiw - First in Seidl's Paradise Trilogy: Strand Releasing DVD Feel free to order any of the following Ulrich Seidl films by clicking on the Amazon.com links just below:





Paradise: Love (2012) *****t
dir. Ulrich Seidl
Starring:Margarethe Tiesel, Peter Kazungu

Review By Greg Klymkiw
"Never have I looked so directly into hell."
-Werner Herzog on Animal Love, by Ulrich Seidl

One almost imagines an off-screen Julie Andrews singing "These are a Few of My Favourite Things" as the lens of filmmaker Ulrich Seidl greedily drinks in globs of fleshy pink corpulence jiggling like mounds of jello, streaked with road maps of stretch marks boring through virtual mountain ranges of cellulite and grotesque cauliflower-like skin tags gripping desperately to spongy thighs like bats in a cave. But no, as the blonde blob adorned in a sun hat flip-flops onto the sunny airport tarmac of a Kenyan resort, surrounded by her equally porcine 40-50-something Austrian maidens, she is greeted with the happy voices of a welcoming party as they joyfully croon "Hakuna Matata." Once happily ensconced in the paradise of the resort, our jolly Teresa (Margarethe Tiesel) ogles the rich, lithe, cocoa bodies of her male hosts, salivating with the same delightful desire she might express when gazing upon a platter of rich Viennese pastries, imagining the joy of stuffing them all down her expansive, greedy gullet.

That said, Teresa looks like someone's mother.

And indeed she is. She's left her nasty, blubbery smart-phone-obsessed daughter in the capable care of an aunt. Also behind her is the daily toil of caring for extremely mentally challenged adults. However, the loneliness permeating her single parent existence will soon be filled to overflowing. "Filled" is indeed the operative word here.

She will soon enter the pleasurable heart of darkness known as sex tourism and we know, within seconds, that we have plunged ourselves yet again into the wonderful world of Ulrich Seidl. As noted by director Werner Herzog upon seeing Seidl's early documentary Animal Love, we too are looking "directly into hell".

Seidl is no ordinary obsessive. He's an artist with one of the most unique voices in contemporary cinema. His early documentaries exposed things about humanity (and by extension, ourselves) that we all try to deny as being within us and the rest of the whole wide world. Where Seidl differs from traditional documentarians is his insistence upon shooting in long takes - expertly composed shots with exquisite lighting (or in some cases, starkly appropriate such as when his camera trained itself upon the aforementioned individuals who truly loved their animals - a lot!)

All this went several steps further, however, once Seidl switched gears in 2001 and began to apply his unique mise-en-scene and obsessions in the world of drama with what is inarguably still his greatest picture Dog Days.

Paradise: Love isn't too far behind in terms of its brilliance and impact. The tale of the aforementioned Teresa might prove far to unsettling for some, but like all Seidl, patience and perseverance with pay off.

Some accuse him of being little more than a cinematic equivalent to a freakshow impresario, but this is to remain myopic to what he's really up to. Seidl is indeed a humanist who seeks his quarry amongst the extremities of mankind (and most notably in the backyards of Austria).

With Paradise: Love, Seidl unflinchingly charts a woman's descent into satisfying her most basic sexual needs by exploiting those who are so poor they will do whatever they have to do in order to survive.


Teresa parades along the Kenyan beaches in outfits that accentuate her strudel and schnitzel induced corpulence. It's her fat face emblazoned with lustful wonder that ultimately betrays her slatternly desires. Surrounded by eager, young and almost criminally gorgeous Kenyan men who vie for her attention in the hope she'll buy a lot more than the trinkets they have on offer, Teresa eventually sets her sights on one young lad who, on every level, offers just what she wants.

And as Seidl's camera unflinchingly reveals, what some of these young lads have to offer is jaw-droppingly succulent. I dare even strictly heterosexual male viewers to not fantasize about dropping their own jaws to take in the stunning magnificence that dangles between the thighs of these heartbreakingly beautiful young men. With their smooth gentle voices, glisteningly ripped bodies and irrepressibly insistent promises of the love they will provide, it's not hard to believe that Teresa and her ilk might actually believe it is LOVE they are paying for, not sex.

As per usual in Seidl's dramas, the script is a springboard for the drama created in lengthy, intensive improvisations between professional actors and real people. This results in a number of especially harrowing moments. For all the genuine dark humour the movie generates, there are just as many sequences when Seidl's camera catches the eyes of the beautiful young men (who are indeed - in real life - dirt poor and who have provided their services to women like Teresa many times in their lives).

Their eyes betray desperation and terror. The performances of non-actors and actors alike are imbued with reality and poignancy - so much so that it eventually becomes impossible to laugh and you are, in turn, indelibly overwhelmed and saddened with the naked truth of the world we live in. Humanity is indeed at the top of the food chain, but as it devours its own with through-the-roof relish and frequency, one can only despair at where it will all lead us.

Seidl leaves us with a Kenyan folk music group performing "Hakuna Matata" which, in Swahili is literally translated into English as "There are no worries."

No worries, indeed.

"Paradise: Love" premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival 2012 (TIFF 2012) and is currently available on DVD via Strand Releasing.

Thứ Sáu, 25 tháng 1, 2013

END OF WATCH (on Blu-Ray & DVD) - Review By Greg Klymkiw - From its premiere at TIFF 2012, through to its theatrical release and now on a variety of home entertainment formats via VVS Films, this terrific cop picture from writer-director David Ayer kicked butt on a first viewing, but gets better, deeper and richer with subsequent viewings.


Tough-as-nails cop thriller with 70s sensibilities, all the nasty mega-brutality one could ask for and a pleasing, saintly, sentimental Joseph Wambaugh-like approach to police on the killing fields of South Central Los Angeles. 
End of Watch **** (2012) dir. David Ayer
Starring: Jake Gyllenhaal, Michael Peña, Anna Kendrick, Natalie Martinez, America Ferrera, David Grillo, David Harbour,

Review By Greg Klymkiw

End of Watch gets better every single time I see it and let me assure you, my first and second helpings of this great cop drama were no slouches. My third helping was via Blu-Ray on a terrific home entertainment release from VVS Films and there's no two ways about it, writer-director David Ayer serves up a Grand Slam of a picture. It's one hell of a good show.

Some criticism had been levelled against Ayer's supposedly "inconsistent" use of shaky cam home movie footage blended with surveillance cam and straight-up coverage mediated not by characters, nor the watchful eyes of street cams, but director Ayer himself. There's nothing sloppy, herky-jerky nor confusing about the blend. Ayer, with the stunning work of cinematographer Roman Vasyanov, places you directly in the action of the cops - on and off their beat. However, there's a superb variation of shots and when needed, we get all the mediums and wides necessary to create visceral effects that are ALWAYS tied to the story-telling.

Working in tandem with Ayer's mise-en-scène is cutting by Dody Dorn that's never used in the now-fashionable wham-bam-thank-you-m'am style employed in most action films. Every visual and aural effect is rooted in story and Ayer's first-rate screenplay (replete with crackling dialogue and layered characters) is never given short-shrift by the visuals. Even more important is that it's never the horrendous let's-throw-endless-globs-of-shit-on-the-wall-and-figure-out-later-what's-going-to-stick direction so prevalent in the work of poseurs like Sam Mendes, J.J. Abrams and Christopher Nolan - none of whom have any idea how to shoot action and let their (mostly) sound cutters drive the beats with sound instead of picture.

What really stands out on Blu-Ray is David Sardy's first-rate score which not only creates all the necessary aural layering, but with some judicious additional use of hit songs by the likes of Public Enemy, also makes for a soundtrack album that works on its own as backdrop, driving and yes, if any scribes are reading this, magnificent writing music.

It's a terrific picture that delivers a major bang for its buck for ALL viewers. The guys wanting action will love it. The gals wanting to see a challenging "date" picture will love it. Ayer peppers the picture with a compelling character-driven tale full of love and tears.

The Blu-Ray and DVD are chock full of first rate extra features if you need that sort of thing, including a genuinely fine commentary from Ayer.

If you missed the movie theatrically and/or just want to see it again, this is a definite example of a home entertainment product you'll want to own. Screw renting, screw Netlix, screw legal digital downloads, screw streaming, screw pay-per-view - End of Watch is a keeper.

My original review from its Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF 2012) premiere and theatrical release is below. Buy it. Cherish it.

Watch it again and again and yet again.

I know I have.

My Dad was a cop for ten years. When I was a kid it was always fun seeing movies with him - especially cop and crime pictures since he always had more than a few things to say about the "Hollywood bullshit" or happily, the lack thereof. Curiously, it was the crime pictures like Scorsese's Mean Streets and Peter Yates's The Friends of Eddie Coyle that Dad always gave high marks to for capturing the side of life he spent a decade of his life fighting.

Most cop pictures left him cold save for their occasional entertainment value, but a handful of pictures stand out as movies he loved on several levels. Richard Fleischer's adaptation of Joseph Wambaugh's The New Centurions was one that Dad always felt came closest to recreating "the life" of cops behind the scenes while Friedkin's The French Connection captured the dull, dirty, mundane aspects of police work and finally, how Don Siegel's Dirty Harry came closest to showing the frustrations inherent in the job and how sometimes, a good cop just had to say, "Fuck the system," and do what needed to be done.

Somehow, I think Dad would have liked David Ayer's End of Watch a lot. Hanging by the slenderest of plot threads, this mostly episodic nosedive into every harrowing moment street cops face, makes for an always jolting ride through the dangers our boys in blue face everyday. The other plus to this very fine picture is both the writing and playing of the two loyal partners Brian Taylor and Mike Zavata - beautifully rendered by Jake Gyllenhaal and Michael Peña.

A cop's partner is his lifeblood. It's become a cliche in movies and TV, but in reality, the level of loyalty, trust and love a cop has for his partner is treated by most filmmakers in cliched or archetypal ways. It's a testament to writer-director David Ayer that he captures this camaraderie by leaping beyond the by-the-numbers mismatched-partners-who-learn-to-love-and-respect-each-other. From the start, we know these guys are made for each other. If anything, their love deepens and becomes even more demonstrative as the danger and violence in the film intensifies.

Ayer achieves this by using a storytelling technique that in and of itself has become a cliche in recent years, but he pushes it to such extremes that as the movie progresses, we become less concerned with form because of the form and Ayer's clever use of it. The opening few minutes, for example, are shot via a windshield-eye-view of the mean streets of a patrol car, accompanied no less by a portentous reality-TV-styled voice-over. At first you briefly think Ayer's gone nuts until he reveals that cop Brian is a part-time law student putting himself through university as a cop and is studying filmmaking as an elective. As such, he is shooting everything on the job to make a documentary as a class project.

I bought this hook, line and sinker.

When Brian's character is not shooting (and sometimes even when he is on-camera with his rolling camera), the rest of the film is mostly pieced together with a variety of surveillance cams and even through the cams the young electronically obsessed villains use. Add great dialogue, superb realist detail, actual locations plus magnificent performances and it all adds up to a terrific neo-realist-styled slice of life.

Ayer's writing for the cops is dead-on, but what's especially great is how he does not shy away from the banalities and cliches used by the South Central villains who do the dirty work for the cartels. Criminals at this level are boneheads of the lowest order - raised on dreadful television in cultural isolation of the lower order. Ayer takes a big chance here - allowing loftier than thou critics to point fingers at his less-than-balanced portraits of these disgusting thugs. Just as many cops are "dirty", an equal number (if not higher) of the vermin infesting our city streets like rats are zero-brained followers with no minds of their own save for the crap they've ingested in popular culture and from each other.

The narrative itself focuses upon the close friendship of the two cops, their love lives and the importance of family in all its forms - blood, community and crime. Taylor and his Hispanic partner Mike, go about their day-to-day exploits until they happen upon a group of deadly local dealers who are tied to vicious drug cartels. The two cops begin investigating until they get so close to the source of criminal power that the cartel orders hits on them.

So many films in recent years (including those Ayer has written and/or directed) have focused up the "dirty" cops. Reversing this trend with End of Watch is not only welcome but, I think necessary to bolster those in the force who genuinely embrace the protection of the citizenry.

To be a good cop in a world where crime is escalating and when administrative shackles are getting tighter and where cops are even forced into plying their trade by the powers-that-be in ways they know are unfair to those they're supposed to protect is narratively and politically satisfying as it is savvy.

It's the best cop picture in years!

"End of Watch" premiered in a Special Presentation at the Toronto International Film Festival, enjoyed a wide theatrical release and is available for purchase on Blu-Ray via VVS Films. Feel free to use the links below if you plan to buy the movie (and the highly recommended soundtrack album) via Amazon. Each time you click on those links and order direct through them, you're supporting the ongoing maintenance of this review site.




Thứ Hai, 22 tháng 10, 2012

DOOMSDAY BOOK - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Toronto After Dark Film Festival (TADFF 2012)

DOOMSDAY BOOK
3 Apocalyptic SF visions
2 of Korea's finest directors


Doomsday Book (2012) ***
dir. Kim Jee-woon and Yim Pil-sung

“A Brave New World” ***
“Heavenly Creature” ****
“Happy Birthday” **

Review By Greg Klymkiw

The omnibus film, the portmanteau if you will, or, if you're not fond of a cool monicker for this interesting genre, the anthology film, can be a mixed blessing as it's comprised of several short stories linked by theme and for a variety of reasons, not all of them are going to be as good as some, while others can be downright dreadful.

Seeing short films - one after another - can often be downright exhausting. This is always a problem at film festivals that present short film programs or, for that matter, short film festivals period. You watch a film. Let's say it's terrific. It runs an intense 15 or so minutes. As soon as it ends, no matter how thematically linked the overall program is, you need to reboot yourself and get into a whole new headspace for a whole new story. Sometimes, you see a short and it's so damn good that anything that follows it is, even if it's genuinely good also, can actually pale in comparison. It's the tough-act-to-follow syndrome. Shorts worked in the old days of film exhibition because there was always a variety of programming - two feature films, a short "drama", a short "musical", a cartoon, a newsreel and, of course, previews of coming attraction. These days, a perfect place for one short is just before a feature and ideally, shorts - in and of themselves - are best viewed with breaks between theml

Watching shorts within the context of a feature is just as difficult, if not more so. When you watch a feature, there's the expectation of following one set of characters through one primary narrative thread, but within an omnibus feature, its makers have to construct an overall arc with several separate stories.

The best features of this variety tend to be linked with a wraparound story. A simple example is the 70s Amicus production of Asylum. Directed by the famous cinematographer Roy Ward Baker, the story begins with a young psychiatrist being interviewed for a job in an asylum. He's given a test - interview several inmates and render a series of diagnoses. He visits each inmate and they each have a horrific story to tell. Through the film, we follow the psychiatrist. What will he discover? Will he get the job? Or, will this job interview unexpectedly culminate in something as horrific as the tales told to him. Along with several films made during this period, it's a corker of a tale and one fine example of how an omnibus film should work.

One of the best omnibus items is the classic 1945 Dead of Night. The whole picture is wonderful, BUT, one story involving a ventriloquist and his dummy is so brilliant, so expertly performed by Michael Redgrave, one leaves the theatre thinking only about the one story. Everything else, admittedly fine, falls by the wayside.

Thematic omnibus films are much trickier to pull off and frankly, I don't think any of them work perfectly. Cristian Mungiu's Tales from the Golden Age works best in recent memory as it's tied into a specific historical period and we get to experience a number of recurring incidents and character types within the context of the whole. Mungiu also crafts the tales to provide an overall arc.

The new Korean film Doomsday Book is a thematic omnibus film in the science fiction genre. Focusing upon apocalyptic visions, it's a very mixed bag since it begins with a solid story, dovetails into a genuinely great story and ends with a mildly engaging, but in comparison to the middle story, the feature's crowning glory is anything but.

All this said, the film is worth seeing. The first story, “A Brave New World”, is a darkly humorous and terrifying tale of a zombie epidemic. We follow a central character, a sort of nebbish type who's browbeaten by his domineering mother and his search for love. He unwittingly is responsible for a deadly virus and we chart its growth along with his own tale of emancipation and finding love. It's an entertaining bauble and it sets us up for what we believe will be a terrific overall experience.

The second tale, “Heavenly Creature”, is so powerful, so emotional and so profoundly moving, that the first film is almost erased from our memory banks. It's a simple evocative tale of a robot that develops feelings. We chart the robot's journey to a high form of spiritual enlightenment and the eventual distrust amongst extremists that such a "machine" will be a threat to humanity.

The final tale, “Happy Birthday” is a chaotic, stylistic mess about a family sniping at each other in a fallout shelter during armageddon. It's overwrought and not especially funny. Most of all, it's positioning at the end of the portmanteau is a big disappointment as it comes close to tainting the sublime qualities of the middle tale.

I suspect, on the whole, Doomsday Book might - even with this disappointing final story - have worked so much better with a solid wraparound story instead of placing so much faith in theme to tie it together.

Once the film hits DVD, I highly suggest turning the player off just after the middle tale. Better yet, though the first story is not without merit, you might be better off making use of the menu screen to select the first two stories and watch them, if possible, as separate entities.

Speaking of shorts, Doomsday Book during its TADFF 2012 presentation was preceded by Frost, a fine Canadian short drama directed by Jeremy Ball that expertly told a haunting, mysterious tale against the backdrop of Canada's northern aboriginal peoples. This story of a young woman confronting a terrifying spiritual presence linked to her ancestry had enough of a subtle apocalyptic subtext as well as narrative elements dealing with both quest and familial acceptance that made it fit perfectly into the Doomsday Book omnibus. I should have left after “Heavenly Creature”. In retrospect, Ball's short and the first two shorts in Doomsday Book made for an excellent feature film.

"Doomsday Book" screened as part of the Toronto After Dark Film Festival (TADFF 2012). For further info, feel free to visit the festival's website HERE.

Thứ Sáu, 19 tháng 10, 2012

[REC]3: GENESIS - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Toronto After Dark Film Festival (TADFF 2012)

KLYMKIW SAY:
There's nothing like a blood spattered bride wielding a chainsaw at the zombies who buggered up her magical wedding day. The creepy, scary Spanish found footage horror franchise takes a stylish turn in the right direction. "REC3: GENESIS" is my favourite of the series so far.


[REC]3: Genesis (2012) ***1/2
dir. Paco Plaza
Starring: Leticia Dolera, Diego Martin, Javier Botet, Alex Monner

Review By Greg Klymkiw

The found footage conceit in contemporary horror movies seemed, at least for awhile, deader than a doornail after the phenomenon of The Blair Witch Project, the famous camcorder video diary of some obnoxious college kids going into the deep bush to find the truth behind a rural legend.

While the picture was a huge moneymaker, its staying power - even amongst the film's most devoted fans turned out to be rather negligible once repeat viewings revealed little more than what was already there. Subsequent helpings revealed a film that was little more than a one-trick pony. Worse yet, the movie has not aged well. That said, it still deserves a place in screen history as a picture that worked when people first saw it and was backed by an astounding marketing campaign that was as important to the film's financial success as it was to the film's home movie aesthetic blended with pure things-going-bump in the night scares and psychological horror.

It also spawned a whole new horror film adjunct and within the canon of found footage horror, a few pictures certainly proved to have have staying power. Paranormal Activity is still terrifyingly hypnotic and its sequels, while not quite classic material, proved to be supremely entertaining.

The recent Chernobyl Diaries featured a slightly confusing found footage element, but also delivered a decent amount of scares and an interesting political subtext dealing with the exploitation of tragedy within ex-Soviet countries.

The craziest of the lot, was definitely the Spanish found footage horror film [Rec] and its sequel [Rec]2, both dealing with a quarantined apartment building and a small group of survivors attempting to evade crazed, parasite-infected cannibals in a zombie-like state. The first entry was, like Paranormal Activity, a well crafted horror thriller that stands up to repeated viewings, though [Rec] reveals far too many holes in the "plot" and found footage logic. Due to its blistering pace, the picture thankfully keeps you from wandering too far from the terror and carnage.

[Rec]3: Genesis is the best picture in the franchise to date. The found footage conceit is handled in a really unique way and the shifts in mise-en-scene make for a delightful surprise to fans of the first two outings. The cool shift also allows for one shocker after another within the context of a visually crackerjack approach and a setting that can't be beat.

In a palatial, old mansion converted into a massive event venue, we enjoy two primary video captures of a young couple's marriage. When a jolly drunken Uncle begins vomiting and indulging in all manner of bizarre hijinx, it doesn't take long to establish that a horrible infection is spreading amongst the party guests. And yes, they're turning into ravenous cannibalistic zombies. Our attractive hubby and wife get predictably, though understandably separated and must battle their way through zombie hell to reunite safely.

Buoyed by a clutch of terrific acting, superb effects and some delicious shocks, [Rec3] delivers the goods and then some. Replete with a terrific sense of black humour, a breakneck pace with enough pauses to provide expected jolts and a welcome return to the notion of Judeo-Christian religion as a weapon against the unholy evil (a la many vampire films, especially in the Hammer Horror cycle much before the idiotic spate of Twilight movies and their ilk), the movie is designed as a first-rate roller coaster ride replete with virtuoso cinematography, art direction and very little in the way of herky-jerky visuals and cutting. In fact, the cutting is damn fine! Every cut is devoted to advancing things dramatically which, of course, is what assists the pace.

Most of all, though, what sells [Rec]3, at least to this fella', is the notion that Hell hath no fury like a woman whose fairy-tale wedding is transformed into a Grimm Brothers fairy tale. Her white dress spattered with blood, her gamin visage transformed from joy to almost malevolent strictures, her train torn away to reveal her hot gams and armed with one motherfucker of a chainsaw, one only wonders who in their right mind would not be thrilled at the site of this sexy senorita cutting, slashing and maiming her way through one living dead wedding guest after another?

Oh, and have I mentioned her red garter yet?

[Rec3] is pure, unadulterated joy! Though it's now on Bluray and DVD, try to see it on a big screen with an audience. The electricity in that context will be palpable and the movie's good enough to watch again and again once you do pick up the home entertainment version.

"[Rec]3" is playing at the Toronto After Dark Film Festival (TADFF 2012). For further info, visit the festival's website HERE.

INBRED - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Toronto After Dark Film Festival (TADFF 2012)


Vile, pointless, humourless, style-bereft torture porn.


Inbred (2011)  *1/2
dir. Alex Chandon
Starring: Jo Hartley, Seamus O'Neill, James Doherty, James Burrows,

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Inbred is sickening. Other than that, there's really no reason for this moronically vile picture to exist. It's humourless, irredeemably nasty, lacking suspense and aimed squarely at the most indiscriminating genre fans. The screenplay, such as it is, appears to have been crafted overnight, whilst the direction is strictly by-the-numbers.

Two case workers bring four at-risk youth to an abandoned house to learn teamwork and demonstrate their survival skills. Unluckily for the lot of them, they're surrounded by inbreds from the nearby village. One by one, the six of them are brutally kidnapped, tortured and murdered.

That's about it, folks.

Obviously influenced by Tobe Hooper's Texas Chainsaw Massacre, but lacking that film's intelligence, panache and brilliantly constructed nightmare logic we're left with carnage for the sake of carnage.

Oh, and it's British.

As such, the White Trash on display are so much more erudite than their drawling counterparts in the southernmost regions of the colonies. No Texas BBQ made from human flesh, please. We're British.

On a technical front, the picture is well enough made. The locations and art direction evoke a suitably creepy atmosphere and the cinematography is perfectly competent. The special makeup effects and gore are superbly rendered, but ultimately all this is for nought as the movie is dull, nasty and singularly pointless save for wallowing in the violence.

The villains are costumed and performed with a bit of panache, but the "heroes" have little going for them as characters or even character-types that we're quite happy to see them dispatched in the most horrendous ways.

Perhaps this was the point. Perhaps this is why we're supposed to ascribe an innate intelligence to the film. Well, "perhaps" isn't much to make the movie more than what it is. Perhaps it's more fake than all the Hollywood films that are so purportedly empty because it pretends to be more than torture porn.

By the end of the movie, the inbreds walk into the sunset in silhouette. This, for sure, must mean it's "art".

I was jaw agape at the senselessness of what I had just subjected myself to. I love horror films and I'm perfectly fond of inbreds, but I finally had no idea why anyone, save perhaps for an inbred, would actually enjoy the film.

Yes, there's some clumsy subtext about rural life yielding a meanness rooted in ages-old tradition stemming from the exploitation of the downtrodden in contrast to the emptiness of the urban teens whose "badness" is banal and rooted in no sense of history and tradition, but none of this is dealt with in any interesting or intelligent way.

Finally, it really is all about the torture.

This is the film's biggest failing. It's not scary. It's just gross.

And that's what's really gross.

"Inbred" is part of the Toronto After Dark Film Festival (TADFF 2012). For more information, visit the festival website HERE.

Thứ Tư, 17 tháng 10, 2012

GRABBERS - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Toronto After Dark Film Festival 2012 Opening Night Gala (TADFF 2012)


KLYMKIW SAY:

GRABBERS pits Booze-fuelled-Irishmen against a ravenous family of multi-tentacled blood-sucking beasts from the briny blue sea, so check it out lest ye be some feckin' vomitous tea-totalling toady, eh.


Grabbers (2012) ***
dir. Jon Wright
Starring: Richard Coyle, Ruth Bradley, Lalor Roddy, Russell Tovey

Review By Greg Klymkiw

When your town is ravaged by monsters: Who ya' gonna' call?

Well, who the fuck else? Drunken Irishmen, of course.

Grabbers is an amiable horror comedy in the gobblingly gruesome, grandly guffaw-inducing tradition of Joe Dante creature features. Set on a remote island paradise (of sorts) is perfectly suited to soused fishermen. It's also a fine breeding ground for slimy squid-like abominations with bone-crushingly powerful tentacles and frightful maws.

A hot young filly from the big city parachutes into the main village to offer temp vacation relief to its only representative of law and order - a boozing member of Ireland's proud national constabulary, the Garda. They're kind of like the Royal Canadian Mounted Police only they do not wear menstrual-blood-soaked uniforms de couleur écarlate, nor do they ride horses with vibrating Maple Leaf flagpoles up their puckered arse-holes. Oh, and unlike the Dudley Do-Rights of the Dominion of Canada, Garda are proudly and mightily pissed-up half the time.

For our hero, nothing a little monster-brawling and romance can't cure.

She's young, eager and perky. He's a grizzled drunk. Love is in the air. Booze is flowing. Monsters are looming. It's Ireland after all.

Did I mention that our heroine is hot? No? Well, she is.

And the monsters are suitably disgusting and deadly.

The first 45 of the movie's 90 minute running time is near-perfect. Gob-stuffed with an Iranian oilfield full of laughs and a clutch of terrific comic performances, the picture is especially blessed with the presence of an utterly brilliant and knee-slappingly hilarious Lalor Roddy. Playing a sort of Jaws-like Quint, this happy-go-lucky, foul-mouthed fisherman is too perpetually pissed to be as Ahab-like as Robert Shaw in Spielberg's famed shark thriller, but goddamn it all to hell, Lalor renders some tremendously hilarious gut-busting thespian gymnastics.

Richard Coyle as our hero is suitably stalwart, even when he's pissed. Russell Tovey is perfectly dweeb-ish as the village's resident man of science whilst Ruth Bradley is suitably babe-o-licious (if a trifle perky - so perky she imbues the need for some healthy Garda schwance-prodding from our hero).

Add to the mix of this gruesome grabber some first-rate gore, terrific special effects and a heroine who is one mighty HOT BABE - have I, perchance, mentioned this yet? - and you've got yourself a grandly funny picture. The F/X in particular are especially cool. It looks like there's some fine prosthetic/model work in addition to the CGI. If it's ALL CGI, then it's feckin' brilliant CGI.

Screenwriter Kevin Lehane crafts a decent scenario, but I was hoping it might go into the slightly more satirical directions some of the 70s monster movies penned by John Sayles for paycheques to cover the costs of his art film forays. As well, Grabbers does spin its wheels in the second half which feels a bit like a combination of script longueurs and a harried, rather than harrowing pace.

No matter. A near perfect first half and plenty of engaging low budget delights add up to an overall pleasing ninety-minutes of your life. You won't get the time back, but the picture gives you such a good run for your money, you probably won't mind.

Oh, and much as I'm dying to spoil this for you, I won't, but I will say that the secret weapon that poisons the monsters - especially the babies - is so appropriate, I suspect you'll piss yourself.

"GRABBERS" is the opening night gala at the Toronto After Dark Film Festival (TADFF 2012. For further info, check out the Fest's website HERE.

Thứ Hai, 8 tháng 10, 2012

TAKE THIS WALTZ by Sarah Polley on BLU-RAY and DVD via Mongrel Media - Reviewed By Greg Klymkiw


Sarah Polley's wonky plonky love story with sweet wonky plonky people who board the wonky plonky amusement park ride of life, love and romance is just plain wonky plonky wonderful!

Take This Waltz (2011)
dir. Sarah Polley
****
Starring:
Michelle Williams, Seth Rogen, Luke Kirby, Sarah Silverman, Jennifer Podemski, Damien Atkins

Review By
Greg Klymkiw



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I've seen "Take This Waltz" five times now (three times in a movie theatre and twice on Blu-Ray). It gets better with each viewing - deeper, richer, funnier and bearing a sweetly elegiac quality that confirms its place - both in Canadian cinema and cinema, period - as an exquisitely written and directed piece that will grow with stature, reflection and reputation with each passing year. Now that "Take This Waltz" has been released on Blu-Ray for home consumption, I do hope, in a strictly ephemeral sense, that it expands even further to a contemporary audience on three different levels.

Firstly, it demands to be seen by young adults still in the relatively formative stages that 20-somethings find themselves in terms of love and life. The film's chief romantic triangle is exquisitely played by its youthful, attractive cast. Michelle Williams, Seth Rogen and Luke Kirby all bring a kind of extraordinary shading to their roles and manage to express elements of their respective characters' earlier qualities in more carefree times of their lives.

This, I think is one of the greatest challenges an actor can face - when their characters must be who they are in the time and place the film situates them in, but must also - as people in life often do - betray those youthful qualities from days gone by, but also elicit elements of what much of western society deems as "adulthood", and furthermore, express this in terms of how such expectations temper who, in fact, they actually are.

If truth be told, I'm more than happy to generalize here and say that it's a burgeoning adulthood many people find themselves in after their first official decade of "adulthood". For many, their twenties are unfettered by the usual responsibilities they hunker down to infuse themselves with in their next decade. It's these aspects of the character's lives and story that I believe will resonate just as deeply, if not more so, with youthful audiences.

This brings us to the other audience this film should be seen by - those who are, most often by their thirties, seemingly settled into a familiar complacency long after "the thrill is gone". Life is pleasant enough, but for many in this age bracket, they too are in a burgeoning stage of life - in terms of love, most definitely, but also, more naggingly, they find themselves settled into a "career" (still a loathsome word to me and perhaps others similarly afflicted with the arrested development that makes us refuse to roll over and play dead). Here all three actors deliver several aspects of humanity that I believe many will relate to.

Rogen's performance is dazzling in ways he's never quite plumbed before. I sure don't know a lot about cooking chicken, but goddamn(!), I have seen great chefs ply their trade and when Rogen is behind the stove and kitchen counter, he captures both the artistry, joy and total fun such artisans are infused with. This, contrasted with scenes later in the film, when the realization that his joy is potentially responsible for removing someone/something that quite possibly means more to him than his "career" is a heartbreaker. Moving from disbelief, to denial, to acceptance and resignation, Polley not only takes Rogen to a place that one imagines will yield many more great performances, but etches a character that has the unmistakeable feelings and actions so many audiences will relate to.

In different ways, both Williams and Kirby, do the same thing. Miraculously, while their respective feelings and actions could well be interpreted by many as immature (Williams) or even fake (as in Kirby's "suffering" artist persona), Polley allows both actors to strip the characters bare and reflect aspects of humanity that many will relate to, but won't necessarily want to.

And finally, this is a film that squares its chief aim at all those who have loved, lost, loved again and to varying degrees, gone through the aforementioned cycles of coupling and longtime companionship. This is a generation that "Take This Waltz" might have equal, if not somewhat more resonance with.
Polley discovers, with all the skill and aplomb of a genuine Master a kind of sacred truth - that life, and most prominently, love, is to be alternately celebrated and mourned - both in retrospect and in the here and now. It's the stuff of great art.
Like all great art, and in particular, cinema, "Take This Waltz" provides a mirror which we can gaze into and engage in the lives of others and in so doing, ourselves.



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Below, please find my original review of "Take This Waltz" from the initial theatrical release and at the very bottom, a review/assessment of the current Blu-Ray/DVD release.

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"Danny fell round and round and round and round…like a whirligig, he did." - John Huston's film adaptation of Rudyard Kipling's The Man Who Would Be King.
The Scrambler is one of the most enduring rides ever invented. Along with the Ferris Wheel and Merry-Go-Round, it maintains its solid reputation as a tent pole fixture in any self-respecting amusement park and travelling carnival. Whilst traversing the Stations of the (Midway) Cross until reaching the Golgotha-like pinnacle of pre-Lent funfairs, 'tis The Scrambler which remains front and centre of its staid companions on the Mount to Ascension (and indeed, the immortality of the Resurrection).

And why, Father, you ask?

My child, 'tis simple: The Scrambler scares the living bejesus out of you, BUT with an odd sense of complacency - comfort, if you will.

"Begone, Jesus!" The Scrambler intones with Father Merrin-like intensity. "Allow danger and thrill-seeking into your soul and know that unlike the unrepentant gaylords, the Ferris Wheel and Merry-Go-Round, or worse, the rabble along the Midway sidelines with their vomit-inducing touch-the-heavens vantage points, you will be firmly planted on terra firma, but instead you will feel like you are well beyond the Pearly Gates - jettisoned through the Tunnel of Light as that most Holy and joyous throbbing of The Buggles cascades you into deep space for a multi-orgasmic encounter with the Star Child."

The Scrambler, located in a pitch black room, is accompanied by ear-splitting music (mostly late 70s and early 80s) and a lightshow that includes strobes. You and your companion (preferably a loved one or somebody you want to boink) sit in a carriage connected to trestles that spin you around while the Babel-like phallus, the main driver in the centre, spins in the opposite direction.

The Scrambler is unique amongst carnival amusements. Unlike most of the ride's copycat versions it is not rotated hydraulically, but is in fact operated with cogs that allow for the constant (and potentially whiplash-inducing) kick-spins that are exclusive to the Scrambler.

The ride delivers throat-gulping thrills and utter joy that in turn inspire mad adrenalin rushes, occasional butterfly fluttering in the tummy and a resolute sense of conquer-the-world freedom. It yanks you this way and that way, it spins you insanely and furiously, it tosses you from side to side like a rag doll and depending upon which side you choose to sit on, it forces one lucky person into the arms of another. When it's over, you're giddy, breathless, dizzy and weak-kneed.

Kind of like love.

Kind of like Sarah Polley's extraordinary second feature film Take This Waltz.
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For me, the Scrambler operates as a tremendously moving and powerful central metaphoric symbol in Polley's great movie - a movie so great that it feels like it's going to have a very long shelf-life as opposed to the ambitious, but flawed sophomore feature many critics - or rather, reviewers - seem to be knobbishly kvetching about. I daresay this might be the one Polley's remembered for in the distant future - more, I suspect, than the finely directed, though fairly straight forward, Oscar-nominated Alzheimer's drama Away From Her.

In its exploration of love and life, Take This Waltz is brash, bold and uncompromisingly gutsy. Painting an indelible portrait of young love, the movie's a galaxy or two away in the originality sweepstakes from the typical studio and indie romantic comedies and dramedies. Most of those offer pat three-act structures with minor league conflict and tied-in-a-bow resolutions.

Polley serves up a dish best savoured over several courses (or in this case, viewings). She delivers high wattage humour, sizzling romance and ever-so cool styling, but it's not prepared or flavoured to be sucked back like a Big Mac.

This is one for the ages.

Margot (Michelle Williams), a late-20-something information writer for Parks Canada has been married to Lou (Seth Rogen) for five years. Hubby's a master chef writing a cookbook devoted solely to preparing chicken in new and interesting ways. On the surface they seem like the happiest couple in the world - cooing, giggling, playing practical jokes and expressing their love by endlessly conjuring up sentiments like "I love you so much I want to . . . [insert torture here]." Implements included in these perverse sweet nothings include a myriad of household items - my personal favourite being melon ballers to scoop out the eyes.

On a strictly personal note, I've been heard to emit my own variation: "I love you so much I want to grab your soft, tender cheeks, pinch them until they're ripened black and blue, then rip them off with my bare hands, stuff them into my mouth and gobble them up like a greedy pig at the trough."

But, I digress.

There is, in this seemingly perfect marriage, a spanner in the works.

Margot has a "meet cute" with a hunky, dreamy Daniel (Luke Kirby) whilst on the job. He's got his eagle eye on her fetching looks and oh-so-sexy/cute serious demeanour while she takes copious notes to write copy for an official Parks Canada publication.

Cupid's arrow finds it aim during a tour of the Louisbourg Fortress in Nova Scotia. This is one of those annoying historical parks that dot the Canadian landscape where two-bit costumed actors prance around recreating what life used to be like behind the walls of the respective sites of yore.

More often than not, these historical recreations focus upon Old World British and French colonial rule which entrenched themselves insidiously within Canadian society. Only until Trudeau's multicultural policies during his reign as Prime Minister did the mosaic that truly comprised Canada since the early 20th Century start to flourish.

These monuments continue to exist as a perverse tribute to the genocide of Aboriginal peoples, suppression of all those not of lily white Brit stock, the evil spread of French Catholicism and British Presbyterianism (plus all the whack-job Calvinism and Protestantism) and lest we forget, the subjugation of a kaleidoscope of cultures who served as the working class backbone to the building of the country from the late 19th and throughout the 20th Century.

Selecting Louisbourg as the the setting of the seeds that drive much of the narrative is a nice touch. Nova Scotia not only offers a picturesque background, but on a deeper level, the Fortress itself is rife with so many elements that inform the tale. Louisbourg was a sturdy French fortress designed as a port of call, a new colonial society and to repel any attacks by the English. So strong was the structure and the forces within that the Brits were sent packing with their tails twixt their legs after two major attacks. Eventually, though, the Empire succeeded in bringing Louisbourg down - its major flaw being that it was designed to repel sea attacks, but land attacks made it especially vulnerable. Once the Brits took control of it for good, it was systematically decimated.

The Louisbourg Fortress that now exists is a fake - a relatively modern recreation erected in the 1960s. Maybe the only thing real in the Fort on the day Margot visits is her growing dissatisfaction with married life and Daniel's genuine attraction to her. The perfect little fortress of domestic bliss is not, it seems, all that ideal. Like the original Louisbourg it's vulnerable to attack and like the new Louisbourg, it's a sham. And finally, much like the Cape Breton Isle location of Louisbourg, Margot is, deep down, an island unto herself.

The movie, in fact, opens on a series of shots of Margot - the camera focusing almost fetishistically upon her seeming otherworldliness, an ethereal quality that initially masks how much she's rooted upon good, old terra firma (but doesn't know it yet). We sense it, though, right from the beginning through images of Margot's blue-toenailed feet (foot fetishists, please take note) padding back and forth on the kitchen floor as she prepares some baked goods - her strong, though delicate legs bending and crouching in front of the oven, the manner in which she strides along the streets with purpose. She's determined, searching for something, but has yet to discover what that something is so she can actually find it.

What Margot witnesses in Louisbourg is loaded with portent. At first, she sees a wedding ceremony. Is it real? Or a re-enactment? She joins a party of tourists and follows along. In no time, she's with the rest of the vacationers, assembled in the "town" square. A man is dragged against his will to a post to receive punishment for adultery. He is to be flogged.

One of the things I hate about these ludicrous historical parks is precisely what happens to Margot.

Audience participation.

Ugh!

Margot is dragged from her comfort zone, handed a whip and asked to administer the flogging. She's clearly not into it, but hunky Daniel chides her submissive flicks of the whip and goads her to a point where she cuts loose on the "adulterer" like a first-class dominatrix.

We next see Margot at the airport in a wheelchair. Personally, my own ruse to get on planes ahead of assholes in business class is to hobble to the front when the announcement is made for parents with small children and any others who might require assistance boarding the plane. Margot, it seems, has a more flamboyant approach.

Here Polley throws us for a bigger loop. We go from "meet cute" to wild coincidence. Margot's not only on the same plane as Daniel (who knows she isn't a cripple), but is seated next to him.

Disembarking at the Toronto Airport, they decide to share a cab downtown. He gets off on the same street. Lo and behold - after a plane ride and cab ride infused with furtive glances, mega-flirtation and ultra-rom-com banter - it seems that hunky Daniel, an artist who works as a ricksha driver to pay for his cultural endeavours (and keep himself nice and buff for the ladies) lives across the street from Margot and Lou. Uh-oh!!! (During the course of the film, we see Daniel in not one, but TWO very cool pads - both perfect save for a lack of central air.)

I loved this entire sequence. It toys with the conventions we expect from romantic comedies by loading on the most ludicrous coincidence. In fact, it goes well beyond convention. It's an insanely, wildly and completely over-the-top concurrence of fate - one in which a boneheaded development or studio executive might argue is not "realistic", but who will just as likely pooh-pooh something for being too "realistic" - as if any of those clowns actually know what they're saying beyond the need to say something.

As nutty as this demonstration of pure chance might seem, Polley is actually exploiting the stuff of life in extremis - so much so, that in less capable hands, an audience would have had one hell of a time swallowing any of it.

We do, though. Polley takes a risk here and it pays off in spades.

It helps that Williams and Perry have great chemistry and the dialogue alternates seamlessly from snappy Hecht and MacArthur banter to Wes Anderson-like whimsy to gushingly entertaining and sexy flirtation that when put all together is pure Polley. And most importantly, the proceedings are so deliciously offbeat that dramatically we're as prepared to accept the coincidence as we do when it occurs to us in life itself. (Sometimes we're happy about it while at others we're not, but we accept it just the same.)

The movie is one hell of a great ride. There's an extremely solid structure buried beneath the nuttiness of many of the film's set pieces, allowing Polley to yank us this way and that way - not unlike an amusement park ride, but most importantly, fused to the very stuff that all of us, one way or another, have experienced.

It's classic filmmaking with pleasing, fresh variations and it hooks us - line and sinker included.

This new spark of romance in Margot's life, while pleasing to her and the audience, is equally filled with tension and frustration. She and Lou are in love. Most of all, Lou is a really nice guy - so nice that neither Margot, nor the viewer would ever want to see him hurt.

Lou has a wonderful, loud, funny extended family of the ethnic persuasion - full of the life not normally associated with the white-bread ethnicity that Margot appears to be spawned from. A wonderful scene has his family visiting their impossibly groovy semi-detached brick heritage home in Toronto's West End - perfect, it seems, in every respect, save for a lack of central air conditioning.

Lou's mother, brothers, sisters, cousins, nieces, nephews and God knows who else are crammed into Lou and Margot's livingroom - eating, drinking and all talking at the same time. Not unlike my family. Or maybe even yours. It's as if there was a competition to see who is able to speak the loudest.

These are people who crackle with the stuff of life. We get no sense of where Margot comes from save for the Happy Wasp Homemaker comportment adorning her as she serves platters of Lou's chicken. At one point Lou's pathologically loquacious Mother looks up at Margot who's juggling a cheerful, bouncing, curly-headed niece in one arm and bending over with a tray of Lou's comestibles in the other.

"I love being served!" caws Lou's Mom.

Margot with a wide, toothy, somewhat quizzical grin offers:

"Well, I . . . love seeing you . . . sit down."

It's a strange, but familiar moment. And incredibly funny. It feels a bit like the WASP out of white bread water with the garrulous "ethnics", but the sequence is written and played so indelibly and truthfully that there's no way one would equate moments like these as the TV-styled sit-com approach in movies like My Big Fat Greek Wedding or Mambo Italiano.

It's familiar because it's real and a genuine reflection of one of many aspects of indigenous Canadian society. The "ethnics" of Take This Waltz are, in a contemporary context, not even what might normally be associated with what it means to be "ethnic". They're Canadians of Jewish heritage, to be sure, and, no doubt (this writer opined stereotypically, but with, perchance, a grain of truth buried beneath his own perceptions) one hell of a lot livelier than a meandering herd of WASPS downing highballs.

Lou's family seems so wonderful I wanted to move in with them. Margot clearly loves them too, but there seems, in this moment between the female in-laws something quite subtle and delicate that suggests all might not be right - almost a tiny suggestion that Lou's Mom might not be entirely sold on her son's choice for a wife and/or that Margot sees something of Lou in his Mother that doesn't quite rest easy with her. Granted, Lou's done the cooking prior to the family fête, but during the festivities he's the one seated comfortably and kibitzing with his family while Margot alternates between spending most of her time doting on her niece and dashing about like June Cleaver.

One of the many things I love about Polley's writing and Michelle Williams' performance is that everything is stacked on Lou's side. We get to know him through and through - especially in the context of lavishing so much time on his family. Margot, however, is a mystery - the best kind. What we get to know is from the tiny bits Polley parcels out about her, but most of all through a sort of WYSIWYG approach to the character in terms of the action she experiences and initiates.

At times, Margot seems locked in the innocence of days gone by - at times childlike, at others adolescent and often 10-years younger than she actually is. This is clearly a trait that Lou is enamoured with - he's truly, madly, deeply in love with her because of it. There is, however, little to show that he also sees a maturity, an old soul quality and definite intelligence buried beneath her innocent and honest facade. Worse yet, Lou seems oblivious to the fact that he's married to a mega-wattage babe who's dying to explode from her submissive comportment and ravish him with total abandon.

So many movies, whether they're stupidly entertaining like the American Pie variety or imbued with the grace and intelligence of Diner (and its clear inspiration I Vitelloni), audiences and critics seem quite happy to accept male characters not acting (at least on the surface) their age. Here, though, we get the female perspective on this exclusively male trait in popular film entertainment. It's not only refreshing, but provides a myriad of hurdles for Polley as both writer and director and star Michelle Williams to overcome and, hence, explore quite winningly in wholly cinematic ways.

The movie is a cornucopia of wonderful set pieces - all of which are joyful, hilarious, sexy and heartbreaking (sometimes all at once). These, however, are not splotched onto the movie willy-nilly, but all come naturally from the narrative and/or character.

Margot has two very close female friends. One of them we meet at the family gathering noted above. Geraldine (Sarah Silverman) is Lou's sister (and Mom to the niece Margot is obsessed with). Geraldine's an alcoholic in the midst of recovery. This is a role made in Heaven for Silverman - the character is perfectly rendered on the page to allow so many natural opportunities for Silverman to deliver several meters of kishka-links worth of fall-on-the-floor-laughing one-liners. When Margot comments on how well the post-rehab Geraldine looks, the response made me double over each time she emits: "I know. When I look in the mirror I want to fuck myself." Silverman is not only funny, but her performance is utterly exquisite. Even when she's cracking jokes and rendering all that's wonderful about the character of Geraldine, she uses her eyes so expressively and subtly to evoke the constant pain of her disease. Alcoholics are not easy to play with honesty and a sense of humanity and Silverman is up to the task and then some.

The other character is Karen (Jennifer Podemski), the friend who accompanies Margot and Geraldine to an aquafit class. If Geraldine is Margot's whack-job pal, Karen seems to be the fun, though rock-solid type. Podemski is so winning in this smaller role, I kept wanting more of the character to appear. What we get is probably just fine since more might have upset the balance of the picture. That said, Podemski is one of the most charismatic actresses in Canada - the camera loves her - and while I'm always happy to see her onscreen, a part of me wishes she was in front of the camera more - not just here, but across the board. (Canadians in the movie business are always kvetching about the lack of a star system in English Canada. Well, stop kvetching and get Podemski in front of the camera more - she's funny, versatile and has, since she first caught my eye in Bruce McDonald's Dance Me Outside, a top-drawer screen presence. The rapport between Margot, Geraldine and Karen is pitch perfect.

The set piece involving all three female characters at the aquafit class is one of several sequences that demonstrates Polley's gifts as a director. It's funny as hell and features a poignant followup in the shower room. And let it be said right now that Damien Atkins as the crazed aquafit instructor gives the entire cast a run for its money on the laughs-per-second meter. This guy is supremely talented and had me (and the three audiences I saw it with) in stitches. He's so good and the character so rife with potential that someone in Canada needs to develop a series of franchise pictures around Atkins as The Aquafit Instructor - not a stupid TV series, but a bonafide feature franchise. I wonder if any Canadian producers have the good sense to take this suggestion and run with it?

A few of Polley's set pieces involve the smoulderingly playful and sexy Luke Kirby as Daniel, the rickshaw-driving object of Margot's potential toe-dip into adultery. Kirby has one outstanding scene where he tells Margot what he'd like to "do" to her and he's so good, I dare any woman not to get out-of-control wet and, for that matter, any fellas out there not to get a rock-hard erection. Though the scene doesn't have the overt public qualities of the "orgasm" scene in When Harry Met Sally, it has a similar effect.

Another set piece involving Kirby is when Margot takes Daniel to Toronto's Centreville Amusement Park on the Toronto Islands - insisting they ride the aforementioned Scrambler. As the couple is tossed to and fro and into each other's arms - Polley and cinematographer Luc Montpellier (whose work in the film overall is masterful) create a light and colour-dappled chiaroscuro blended with an almost interstellar light speed movement and all accompanied to an ear-splitting recording of the Buggles's "Video Killed The Radio Star". This happy, free-spirited and decidedly romantic sequence lifts both the couple onscreen and the audience to the Heavens until, much like the experience of riding The Scrambler, the ride stops short before the music ends.

Kirby also commands the screen during his scenes with Seth Rogen. Both actors are great here - when they first meet, during a ricksha ride through Toronto and finally at a house party Lou is throwing in honour of Geraldine's sobriety. Kirby conveys a strangely effective blend of admiration (in other circumstances, we feel he and Lou could actually be friends), guilt, jealousy and a take-no-prisoners attitude of romantic rivalry.

Rogen, not surprisingly, is terrific. In addition to his exquisite performance in the criminally overlooked 50/50, Rogen's clearly one of our great actors and his performance as Daniel is multi-layered and heartbreakingly touching (especially in a brave series of direct-to-the-camera monologues). He also handles the dual nature of the character superbly. Yes, Daniel is a great guy, but we see him making a couple of really stupid moves that suggest otherwise. Not that he's evil, mind you - just human, like all of us.

Humanity, is of course, the thing that pulses throughout Polley's film and she etches several central figures who share noteworthy characteristics that one sees at play in the best works by such towering humanist directors like Jean Renoir, John Sayles, Werner Herzog, Agnes Varda and Yasujirō Ozu (whilst adding dollops of perverse humour that are vaguely Buñuelian, occasionally charged with 30s and 40s Sturges-like snap-crackle-and-pop and the wry observational gifts Woody Allen is endowed with).

Her characters are neither saints nor sinners - they are all human - imbued with a myriad of dichotomous characteristics and feelings. Lou is a great guy - on the surface, nobody in their right mind would want to hurt him, but he is selfishly self-absorbed and oddly asexual. Daniel is sexy, charming and romantic as all get out, but he's also creepily predatory.

And Margot?

She's childish, skittish, selfish, needy and borderline unlikeable. But, she is unique - her seeming innocence and naive qualities are infectious, she radiates (occasionally) an inner resolve - especially with respect to her quest which, I think, has less to do with the outer layer of Lou vs. Daniel, but more to do with grounding herself in who she is and not living in the shadows of others.

In Take This Waltz, a film destined for eventual masterpiece status (I'll put money on it), Margot is like so many of us. She wants to hop aboard The Scrambler of life and experience the freedom and joy of inner abandon. What she wants more than anything is to climb aboard the ride herself, fingers crossed that she'll be able to hear "Video Killed The Radio Star" in its entirety.

Like the character of Danny Dravot in John Huston's film adaptation of Rudyard Kipling's The Man Would Would Be King, Margot's fate will be determined by a dive into an abyss, spinning round like a whirligig, enveloped by the peace, terror and joy this will bring.

And she will make this choice.

"Take This Waltz" is now on Blu-Ray and DVD via Mongrel Media. Luc Montpellier's painterly compositions and lighting look especially gorgeous in the high-def Blu-Ray format. Even the DVD, when up-rezzed on a Blu-Ray player and HD monitor looks great. If there's anything a trifle disappointing about this release, though, is that this is a film of such beauty, power and importance that it's begging for a proper special edition treatment. Other than the trailer, the only additional feature is a "Making Of" short. I usually detest these things (unless they're directed by Laurent Bouzereau), but this is actually a nicely put together mini-documentary that can be enjoyed as an after-screening supplement with intelligent interview segments and even some practical illustration of the creative process. That said, the potential displayed in this added value item speaks even more powerfully to the need of additional materials. The interviews with cinematographer Luc Montpellier are so informative, that having an entire commentary track from him dealing with his work - mostly practical, artistic and not anecdotal - would be an invaluable feature for both movie lovers and burgeoning film makers and craftspeople. If the footage exists, an additional documentary on both the locations and production design would be especially valuable. Too many urban, contemporary films are given short shrift in this area when it comes to added features, but this film is especially stylish that having a short film that examines both the practical and artistic elements of creating something that is both realist and expressionistic would be extremely welcome. Raw, unexpurgated extended interviews with all the actors - including the line of questioning would be wonderful. Most importantly, given the Sarah Polley's answers during the "Making Of" piece are so intelligent that a full commentary track is an absolute must. In fact, I think having Polley do an "onscreen" commentary like David Lynch did for "Eraserhead" would be phenomenal. Set up a gorgeous single composition, light it impeccably (in the "fruit bowl" style of the film) and then have a detailed interview with Polley that's all-Polley-all-the-time (and no off camera questions). I usually hate added features because they're often slapped together and in many cases, those who do the commentary tracks aren't properly guided and/or directed to deliver maximum impact material. Too often, these tracks are moronically anecdotal or worse, tell us about what we already know. Criterion is still the King here and when Bouzereau handled a lot of the great Hitchcock added value materials for Universal, these indeed were items worth looking at. The film, however, is the thing - the meat and potatoes, as it were. For the fine transfer and the genuinely solid "Making Of" item, this is a Blu-Ray definitely worth owning. That said, an eventual first-rate double-dip multi-disc special edition would be great. In fact, a collectable, numbered limited edition that included a copy of the tremendous screenplay would be boss. It probably won't happen, but one can dream, can't one?