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Lahn mah (2024)
Every rivulet of my tears was earned
Esteemed film critic Roger Ebert once declared that movies are towering empathy generating machines, a statement I wholeheartedly embraced and there is no better demonstration of this phenomenon than with How to Make Millions Before Grandma Dies. The see-saw of emotions and the rollercoaster of feels, what a ride it was!
Writer-director Pat Boonnitipat didn't even try to reinvent the wheel. You know exactly what will happen in the end; there is no final miracle cure (here's looking at you, Queen of Tears), there is no "it is always darkest before the dawn" ending and there is no final twist (there is a kind of twist but Choo whispered to me what the twist will be an hour before it dropped and she was of course correct. How does she do this every time?), but this is testament to great storytelling in that you don't need any twists and turns, flashy cinematography, full orchestration, CGI dream sequence or the whole shebang to serve up a scrumptious dish of the feels. You just need authenticity without any artifice.
The movie's greatest asset is its relatability. If you are born into an Asian family with ancestral roots that stretch wide and beyond, you will sense the familiarity with all the characters. Perhaps you will see manifestations of your relatives and family members here - the long-suffering daughter, the son who feels problems that can be solved by money are not problems, the calculative daughter-in-law, the good-for-nothing son and the kid whose eyes are glued to the computer screen. The story is fictional but it feels true to life with its keen observation of family dynamics when the death of the matriarch is imminent and the vultures start to circle. Grandma isn't stupid, she knows why she is the centre of attention and even M is not spared when she says to him: "you are also sowing seeds in hope of reaping them right?"
Credit has to be bestowed upon the actors who breathed life into their characters. I am surprised this is Usha Seamkhum first acting role. She is such a natural without a single smidgen of artifice. Putthipong "Billkin" Assaratanakul is the perfect foil to Amah's no nonsense approach to life. You will follow his arc fervently knowing he will wise up to the ways of life and when that moment arrives it is so subtle that you know it is an accumulation of Amah's many interactions with him.
Though the plot is straightforward I doubt anyone will find this boring. As it steamrolls towards the inevitable ending, it will happen - your tears will flow, but know that every rivulet will be well-earned just like every peal of laughter. Incidentally, this is currently the highest grossing film in Thailand and Indonesia, evidence that it has resonated with many audiences.
This is that rare film that Choo and I were still talking about over breakfast this morning probably because we didn't want the magic to dissipate, desperately trying to hang on to the tendrils of a heartfelt story. You will be surprised that we can still unearth vignettes of truth after a good night of sleep like a quick scene of a monk in a wheelchair at the chemo clinic as if to suggest that sickness affect everyone, including the religiously pious ones or the scene where Amah goes to meet her estranged brother to borrow money for a burial plot. My theory is that Amah already knows the outcome but she still wanted M to learn a hard life lesson.
School is out. Forget about taking your kids to The Garfield Movie, instead take them to see this. Don't be ashamed to let them see you cry and laugh heartily. After the movie, sit down somewhere and over a warm drink, share stories about your mother, their grandma. I think for a few minutes, she will be alive in everybody's memory.
Phuean (mai) sanit (2023)
Get ready to be gobsmacked in the third act!
There are movies whose trailers conveniently summarise the entire plot. When I first saw the trailer before the screening of The Boy and the Heron, I could connect the dots and map out the plot: a bitter student named Pae (Anthony Buisseret) is befriended by Joe (Pisitpol Ekaphongpisit) much to his displeasure. Soon, Joe dies in a car accident and Pae sees the perfect opportunity to get into the good book by making a short film to commemorate Joe's death even though he has no real connection to Joe. To complicate matters, Joe's friend Bokeh (Thitiya Jirapornsilp) knows Pae is using Joe's demise for selfish reasons.
But I still wanted to see the movie because there is something about character redemption arcs that I love. Seeing a bad person break good sounded like a nice way to spend 2 hours, but I was totally blown away and completely bowled over by a third act twist I never saw coming. The trailer wisely never gave away any hint of this and when the revelation dropped the movie became emotionally complex, my favourite territory in narratives.
Even if the initial setup of and the cascading events are formulaic, there is something affable and relatable about the characters. It reminded me of the friends I once had and the friendships forged during that period of life were never cosmic events. They tend to be based on common and aligned interests, and defined by fun and social activities. I am still friends with many, friends I made in my adolescent years.
The first two acts of the movie coast along like carefree laughter in the school canteen and it is also a love letter to cinema. Then it evolves to examine the nature of friendship between teenagers - like what constitutes a close friend, how does others define you as a good friend, how you define friendship for yourself and how one can never truly know another whom you called a friend. I loved some of ideas of friendship presented like a scene in a bus when Pae shares with Joe a secret he is ashamed of and Joe affirms him by saying he is a friend to him from this moment onwards and not from that episode in the past.
The performances by the two leads are fantastic and even Ekaphongpisit in the flashback sequences is great. They are very natural and wacky in their roles. In them I see myself in the past, a time when the pressures of life still do not have a stranglehold on me.
Not Friends is one of those rare movies that trod lightfootedly towards a pre-ordained destination, then suddenly swerved unexpectedly from the left field and totally charmed my socks off and even earned some tears. It also happens to be chosen by Thailand to compete in next year's Oscars in the Best International Film category. I doubt it will land up in the long list because it is not the type of film the Academy typically votes for. Don't let that stop you from checking it out and it might remind you of a time when you have friends like Pae, Bokeh and Joe.
Feng zai qi shi (2022)
Warning: Avoid this at all costs
Where the Wind Blows boasts two super stars in Tony Leung and Aaron Kwok, but it is a total snooze fest at 2h 24min. The story is about a few good men in a sea of dirty cops and politicians. The storytelling is so choppy that after a while you will feel like puking out all the rubbish history lessons forced down your throat. It is well-acted no doubt but the story is not even coherent. It's like in any scene there is a beginning, a middle and an ending, but the director will just show you one out of the three and wants you to connect the dots. Such an utter waste of good actors. The moral lesson is that you should be the baddest bad guy because you can retire to Canada or Thailand and nothing will happen to you. Avoid this like it's the newest variant of COVID-19.
Past Lives (2023)
A movie that feels epic even though it's "small"
I was 8 years old when I first fell in love (I am not sure about that) and 9 when I had my heart broken (this part I am very sure). I was in Primary 3 and every day was bliss when I hung out with this girl in my class. In the morning she would ask if I had done my homework and my usual answer was no. She would then do them for me, I kid you not. I asked her why and she said it is so that I won't get scolded by the teacher. During recess we would play together and the same thing happened after school until our dads screamed at us to go home; me in a car and she in a van. She lived about a road away from me in the same estate. One day she asked me to go over to her place and it was the first time I understood what poor looks like. Hers was a dilapidated one bedroom flat with a long unventilated corridor that smelled like someone urinated there last night. We didn't care. Then a year later she disappeared from my life. I wasn't a boy who was brave enough to ask my form teacher what happened, but I did. She told me that her family had moved and she was probably studying in another school. That was the first time my heart broke. Those were the 70s and we didn't think to exchange phone numbers. Not having a chance to say goodbye to each other was hard. Sometimes, on grey days I would think about her and hope she is happy with her life, but last night while watching Past Lives I thought about her the whole time. Past Lives has that elusive ability to make one think about first loves, the could-have-beens and the roads-not-taken. Award season is pretty far down the road but I am very sure Past Lives will be in many Best Films of 2023 lists and deservedly so. If yearning and longing can be given definition and colours, Past Lives has all of them.
Writer-director Celine Song has crafted an exquisite debut that is endearing but resounding in the way it describes yearning, without a note of artifice. At first, I could hear England Dan and John Ford Coley's "It's Sad to Belong" in my head and the narrative could easily go down the path of regret but it doesn't do that, opting instead to take a step back to look at the characters in a different but more compelling way. To me the story is likening to numerous doors at a foyer and one can only open one door and not know what is behind the other doors. The story is about Nora going back through the door she has chosen and landing up at the foyer again. She is thinking of a what-if.
Nora is definitely the more compelling character and the narrative choices she will make will define the story. She isn't the most sympathetic character and her mien doesn't betray her innermost thoughts. However, as the story progresses her character seems to wrest me up in a wistful embrace and right at the end when she finally breaks and I landed up in a quivering mess. Hae Sung wears his heart on his sleeve and he is never forceful, preferring to love someone from a distance. He could have held Nora emotionally hostage many times but he loves her too much to do that. Arthur, Nora's husband, seems like a peripheral character and then he isn't. The honest dialogue he has with Nora in bed could only have happened if the couple is honest to a fault. The part he lays it all out that he can never compete with Hae Sung broke me and yet it also confirms the faith he has with Nora even if he does crave for assurances.
The pace is exquisite, mirroring a person grappling with the weight of choices and commitments. The direction is assured and I have a strong feeling the story is a deeply personal one. The cinematography is marvellous with beautifully crafted shots that could frame the couple's tension amidst picturesque sceneries providing counterpoints. The music is gorgeous, almost a character in itself and it's never manipulative, moving in a diegetic manner in tandem to the simmering emotions. The acting is wonderful because so many times the actors' body language and long bouts of silence are saying more than words.
The ending left me in a quavering mess, my heart palpitated as if it was experiencing a series of little earthquakes and it eventually exploded in a flurry of tiny explosions. My poor heart ached so much for the characters and I loved the choices each of them has made. Past Lives seems to suggests that all romantic films are fairytales and fantasy, and this is the first honest depiction of romance. It also reaffirms the notion that to have loved and be loved before in such a pure manner is a gift.
A Small Light (2023)
Illuminating
We finished this 8-episode mini-series over three evenings. It is good one, a damn good one.
This is the Anne Frank story but told from the perspective of Miep Gies, a Dutch woman who risked her life to shelter Anne Frank's family from the Nazis for more than two years during World War II.
This is a superhero story of someone ordinary who accomplished extraordinary things. But if Miep were still alive she would harangue me for using the word superhero because in her view anybody can and should do what she did.
The Anne Frank story has been seared into the world's consciousness - a story of heroic resilience in the face of insurmountable odds. Years ago I visited the Anne Frank museum and I remember thinking how could a family of eight stay cooped up in an annex for two years and why didn't more people do what Miep and her husband Jan did?
The first two episodes are very easy to watch and I loved the love story of Miep and Jan. The meet-cute is a disaster but the second time they meet is magical. It is so easy to get behind them and understand why they did it. I kept questioning myself what would I have done if I were in their shoes. Would I be brave enough?
The last three episodes are filled with suspense to breaking point. So many eleventh hour tick tock nail-biting situations that make Mission Impossible movies a joke because it happened to real people. I know exactly what happened to the Franks but I was still hoping they survive.
Sorry, my words are crap. But trust me that this deserves your undivided attention and it is surprisingly not difficult to watch even if the suffering is unthinkable. I don't know... If I have kids I would sit them down and watch this with them because there are so many brilliant teaching moments, but that's me.
The reason this is called A Small Light is because of a quote by Miep who always ended her speeches with this: "But even an ordinary secretary or a housewife or a teenager can, within their own small ways, turn on a small light in a dark room."
Jubilee (2023)
A love letter to Indian cinema of the late 1940s to early 1950s
Jubilee begins with the solemn introductions of Srikant Roy (Prasenjit Chatterjee), the movie mogul of Roy Talkies and his wife, equal business partner and main actress, Sumitra Kumari (Aditi Rao Hydari). As the visuals switched from old black and white newsreels to colour, we see a nondescript projectionist load a screen test for Roy's personal viewing pleasure. The monologue features Jamshed Khan (Nandish Singh Sandhu) screen testing for the role of Madan Kumar. It's a great screen test but my attention wasn't on him; my eyes were focusing on the nobody in the projection room. He is staring at the screen, mouthing the lines as they are uttered, probably something he has seen many times from other screen tests. As the scene progresses you will learn he is Binod Das (Aparshakti Khurana), Srikant Roy's loyal soldier and Mr Fix-It. A little later on, Binod is tasked to deliver the screen test by Jamshed Khan to another place because Srikant Roy has found his ideal Madan Kumar. But before he leaves, he collects all the other screen tests and destroys the film negatives at the furnace. This scene is my favourite scene from the first episode - as Binod opens each can and throws the film into the furnace, he recites the lines that we have heard earlier uttered by Jamshed. He says it like he means it, like he was born on this earth to say the words: "I might have made a lot of mistakes in my life, but regretting my actions and apologising is against my principle. So before I lose my last shred of humanity, please leave father." On his mien is the unmistakable face of sheer ambition.
Once in a while, comes a show that is very difficult to write about because words shrink a viewing experience that felt limitless. Yet one feels compelled to say something because one wants to impel others to give this a shot even if others may look at him or her in a funny way. I can live with that because I know what I saw and I know a great show when I see it. I am going to take that risk. Jubilee is that show for me and not since Paatal Lok (2020) have I seen another Hindi series that transcends to the level of art.
The first two episodes are the weeding period. The pace is plodding and there is a lot of information, characters and emotional entanglements to navigate. You are not sure which nugget of information you need to hold on to and what to discard. But I had faith with the storyteller because the attention to details is incredible. If you get past the hurdle of the first two episodes you will be in for a home run.
The story introduces two other major characters, Jay Khanna (Sidhant Gupta) and Nilofer (Wamiqa Gabbi). The former is a budding filmmaker looking for a chance in a place where there is none for someone poor like him. The latter is a courtesan who has the talent and she is not opposed to weaponising her feminine wiles to get her closer to her dream. All five characters will intersect in captivating ways and at times destructive ways.
The show is created by Vikramaditya Motwane (Udaan and Lootera) and Soumik Sen, with the former directing most of the episodes. The story situates in the era before and after the independence, the golden age of Indian cinema. It is a love letter to filmmaking in the past and this part is impossible to misinterpret. You will see the advent of playback singing and CinemaScope. I enjoyed the scenes where the curtain is pulled back to allow us to see how the scenes are shot in the old days. It almost feels like you are watching something forbidden.
Jubilee is more than just that. It is about how there was a time when the world of politics (USA and USSR) encroached into show business because they see Indian cinema as a propaganda tool. It is also the time of the Partition when India's social fabric is at its breaking point with social unrest at its highest. It shows you a world where the government fears the power the studios wield and they thought the banning of Hindi music from All India Radio will put them in their place, but it also shows you the oneupmanship of studios to get their music played over Radio Ceylon instead. In this sense, the show is a wonderful historical lesson of the golden age of Indian cinema from the late 1940s to the early 1950s.
Jubilee is a lot more than that. It is full of character studies, characters who are blinded by ambition and are willing to be treacherous to get ahead. This is a showcase of the power of human self-preservation. Aided by some of the finest ensemble acting I have seen, the characters are never drawn in a cliché way. A case in point would be Nilofer. Hers is a character that is a mainstay of movies about characters who sleep their way to the top, but Nilofer's talent is undeniable and her character earns the viewer's sympathy readily. I don't agree with her methods, but I applaud her tenacity and patience to get to the top. If you think about it, she is the only character who doesn't hurt anyone to rise to stardom.
Technically, this is stunning. The cinematography and editing really pull you into the story. Watch out for those scenes which crosscut between how they are shot and how they look ultimately on the big screen. The music and songs by Amit Trivedi is also a character in Jubilee. I am not well-schooled in Indian cinema of the 1940s to 50s, but I recognised the sound as one reminiscent of that era yet refreshed in a modernised manner.
Above all else, the thematic element that hits me the hardest is how it deconstructs the myth of the superstar from every angle you can think of. In the eyes of the cinema-going populace, the superstar is someone who embodies all the positive human values and they aspire to be him (it is always a "him" in Indian cinema). From the point of view of the studio, the superstar is a commodity, an economic tool with no sell-by date unless the scandal is too big to be swept under the carpet. In the superstar's eyes, he is the nexus of power, money and fame. Sometimes he will get in over his head and wants to stretch his art, but the studio will get him to toe the line. At one point Srikant Roy tells Madan Kumar point-blankly (I am paraphrasing here): "You are Madan Kumar. You are created by me. You are my superstar. Leave the acting to others."
The ending of Jubilee was definitely ruminating in Motwane's mind before he even began shooting it. Hitting a resounding climax in a courtroom, we see betrayals and self-betrayals from all the characters. What I didn't count on was a gorgeous falling action done to a song sung by a young man who has his heart broken by the cutthroat world of the studios. We witnessed the fates of everyone and really... there aren't any surprises, just a deep sense of satisfaction of a story well-told. The characters might hail from a bygone era, but I dare you to think they don't exist contemporarily.
Rambo: Last Blood (2019)
Old Man Rambo Will Tear You Apart
Woah! The Metacritic score for this 5th Rambo movie is at 29/100. What is wrong with these critics? We had so much fun with this that it's criminal. Even the couple sitting behind us were cheering when the scumbags drop like flies. That's how you make a revenge flick.
I like Rambo's world - there's no gray, only black and white. If you are not a good person, you deserve to die in the hands of John Rambo. There is not much of a story here, the plot is paint-by-the-numbers, but I didn't care. If you want Academy Awards stuff go buy a ticket to see Ad Astra. Me? I just want to see lots of dead bad guys. Woah! I see deep fried bad guys, bad guys on satay sticks and bad guys perforated with more holes than your talcum powder holder. It's hammer time! And I mean that literally. It was so fun swimming in a bloodbath (I am making an appointment with my shrink after I post this) and this is the worst tourism movie featuring Mexico. The whole country basically only had 2 good persons and I love how simple it is to draw a bad guy. If you have tattoos, wear singlets, have bulging muscles, wear chunky necklaces, have an automatic stuck in your waist band, have a leery moustache, rape girls with your eyes and talk with bad grammar, you are a f$cking bad guy. If only the world is so easy to spot a bad guy.
Don't believe it when they this is the last one. The next one should be call Final Blood where John will train his protege and the franchise will reboot with New Blood. 😎
Hua jiao zhi wei (2019)
A well-crafted gem
There's hope for Hong Kong's cinema yet. Fagara passed our acid test with flying colours - throughout the 30-minute journey home, the missus and I were discussing the movie animatedly, drawing on parallels with our lives and little nuggets of nuances continued to surface. This is a gem and truly the first good film from Hong Kong this year that isn't an action genre flick.
The story pivots and pirouettes on Acacia (Sammi Cheng), a travel agent in Hong Kong who discovers she has two half-sisters after her estranged father Ha Leung (Kenny Bee) suddenly dies. One is Branch (Megan Lai), an androgynous professional snooker player in Taiwan, and the other is fashionista v-blogger Cherry (Li Xiaofeng), living in China. They meet at their father's funeral and a journey of self-discovery ensues.
I was pleasantly surprised by the opening scene which features a telephone conversation between a world weary looking Sammi Cheng and a two-timing customer. It wasn't what was said that confounded me; it was the fact that the entire conversation was in Cantonese that put a smile on my face. Finally, a Hong Kong movie that was left unmolested by the MDA (the Media Development Authority) and the Cantonese language sounded like music to my ears. Frankly, my government's insistence on dubbing all films and programmes that come from Hong Kong to mandarin has outlived its objectives. It's high time to leave these films untouched.
Hong Kong writer-director Heiward Mak's last mainstream hit was Love in a Puff (2010), a quirky look at modern romance, which she co-wrote. With Fagara, she has ascended a new level. With a drama about three sisters coming together after the sudden death of their father from three different mothers, it wouldn't be out of place for it to be emotionally coercive, but Mak demonstrates sublime restraint and astute instincts to steer the narrative in a different direction.
Fagara doesn't rush out of the blocks to tell its heartfelt story. Mak allows the newly-acquainted half-sisters to live and breathe, filling the scenes they are in with authenticity and authority. These are not soft and malleable women; they are their own women, owing no explanations for the paths they have chosen in life, giving the movie a wonderful freshness, relevance and clarity.
There is a focus on character detail, with the doling out of exposition and backstory happening throughout the course of the movie in luminous flashbacks. There are no weak characters here and the casting is exquisite. Sammi Cheng, without a smidgen of glamour, does the heavy lifting, and she is a revelation. Her weariness is palpable and her vulnerability permeates her entire being. Megan Lai and Li Xiaofeng fill their scenes with humility and humanism too. Using these well-drawn characters in their own spheres, Mak is making a point with the modern women who owe no one for the choices they make in life.
The writing is peppered with many life-affirming gems and most of the time they are delivered by Richie Jen and Andy Lau cameos. There is also much humour rendered by a cockroach and the kitchen.
Fagara is a well-crafted story of three half-sisters looking back into their painful pasts in order to venture forward into their futures with revitalised hope. It is filled with many nuances and it allows you the time to tease out its narrative subtleties on your own. Instead of ramming into your solar plexus, it gracefully touches you with its strong flavours and deep reds and browns. The whole thing actually feels like a Hirokazu Kore-eda meditation on the splintered family, and I mention Kore-eda's name with deep respect for Heiward Mak's craft.
Saeng-il (2019)
Emotionally devastating
How all of us tackle grief differs.
When my dad passed away some time ago, I remember I was in a daze, everything felt surreal and I couldn't cry. I didn't know what was wrong with me. I felt like a spurious son and I started to question myself. But I remember lyrical moments that underscored that tumultuous period, one of which was the long drive from the crematorium to the columbarium. My dad's cremated remains was with me and my sister, and Emil Chou's On the Clouds came on the radio. In that moment I felt my dad's presence, reassuring me that he is in a better place. Then a few days later, the dam finally broke. I was watching Tim Burton's Big Fish (2003), a story about how a frustrated son tries to determine fact from fiction in his dying father's life and I finally wept. I wasn't crying because of the demise of the movie-dad, my consciousness was all about my dad. Like me, the people that populate the cine-scape of Birthday are all grieving in their own ways. Grief incapacitates the mother and guilt imprisons the father.
Ripped apart by the loss of their eldest son Su-ho (Yoon Chan-young) to the Sewol Ferry tragedy on 16 April 2014, Jung-il (Sol Kyung-gu) and Soon-nam (Jeon Do-yeon) struggle to keep their family together. No longer able to communicate with each other, they must still bring up their surviving daughter Ye-sol (Kim Bo-min).
It's official - this is the hardest my wifey and I have cried while watching a movie this year. In my opinion, the Chinese title carries more emphatic meaning and does more justice than the the English one, Birthday. Literally translated, it means "The Birthday Without You".
The tragic event of the Sewol ferry disaster, in which 304 people died, many of them high-school students, still looms large and repercussions are still being felt across many guilty parties. Birthday is the first movie that explores the events of the tragedy. Given the subject matter, nobody would fault you for thinking that the cinematic approach would take a big page out of Titanic, but writer-director Lee Jong-un's sensitive debut chooses to tread on a path less-travelled and by so doing it becomes a movie that will stay with you for a long long time.
This is an assured and confident directorial debut, full of hard-hitting and heart-hitting emotional beats even though it is quiet by nature. Lee Jong-un was assistant director on auteur Lee Chang-dong's Poetry, an emotionally devastating rumination on a woman's final grasp on the beauty of life before everything is taken from her. One can see how Lee Jong-un has picked up the filmmaker's many fine attributes. The screenplay is chock-full of keenly observed character studies and I particularly adore how little nuggets of information are lovingly doled out. A lesser director would have rammed up the histrionics and glossed over all the emotional moments, but Lee's defiant focus on one family torn apart by the loss of their son is refreshing.
The bulk of the narrative is about how the mother Soon-nam and the father Jung-il handle the loss. Soon-nam is adamant that one should never move on and she detests all the rest who grieve in their own special ways. Jung-il, on the other hand, has to deal with the guilt of not being there when it happened and wants to move on. Both their arcs culminate in the last act where the support group holds a birthday party for the departed Su-ho. When this last act arrives it is practically a tsunami of feels; just make sure you are holding on to some tissues. Don't say I didn't warn you.
Established actress Jeon Do-yeon does the heavy lifting. Her intense grief is not described by scream-fests but by her rigid posture and her defiant stance in the face of utter hopelessness. This isn't a saintly Mother-of-the-Year portrayal; this is a full-on warts-and-all portrayal of a slowly crumbling mother on the brink of a total meltdown. The scene of her finally breaking down in blood-curdling wailing sobs is particularly heartrending and it culminates to a heartwarming scene where a neighbour shows the husband what she needs to overcome that dreadful moment. Lee even has the audacity to show how the neighbour's daughter angrily handles the commotion that lends a moment of truth to the whole thing.
This could have been an utterly bleak film and in lesser hands it probably would be. But Lee Jong-un has crafted something miraculous. Birthday is a tender build-up of the heartache of losing a loved one towards something remarkably hopeful.
PS - I learned an important lesson in the prolonged final act - nobody remembers the scholastic, materialistic and monetary accomplishments in the end. It is all about the little moments - how you spent time with a friend who needed it, how you loved the people around you by performing little acts of kindness. Su-ho lived a short life, but it was a full one. How many of us can say that about ourselves?
Guang (2018)
Heartwarming and gut-wrenching performances lift movie
My wife 'hates' this opening paragraph because I have written it many times. But I am still going to say it: do you know how I know a movie is good? It's how long we can hold a conversation about it. All through the 45-minute drive we were locked in an ebullient discourse about the movie and this doesn't happen very often. This morning at breakfast, you guessed it, we were pouring over a review in the local papers and we watched the prize-winning short film (2011) of which the movie is based on, still trying to hold on to the remnants of a pitch-perfect film, pun intended.
Wen Guang (Kyo Chen), an autistic young man, is cared for by his younger brother, known only as Didi (Ernest Chong). Things are taking a toll on the brother and he sents Wen Guang out to look for work, but holding on to his job is a difficult task. Things come to a boiling head when the police come knocking on the door.
We saw the trailer for Guang some time ago and there is something about trailers that can make you become judge and jury in a space of less than two minutes. I knew I was going to watch a movie about an autistic savant and all the tropes associated with the genre would play themselves out in a quick burst. But then a glowing review in the local papers and great word of mouth made me take a risk. Yes, Guang embraces all the tropes but it is in the execution that it soars on wings of doves.
Blame it on Hollywood - autistic savants are gifted with superhuman abilities that are 'weaponised' for entertainment. In Rain Man (1988), Dustin Hoffman's character can count cards and in The Accountant (2016), Ben Affleck's character is great with numbers and machine guns. In Guang, Wen Guang has the ability to hear pitch in musical notes and pin-point their frequency. It is a sonic talent that puts him in more trouble than reeling in the money. That's the first thing that is refreshing about the debut film of Quek Shio Chuan - Guang's skills are useless in the real world.
Guang is also a semi-autobiographical piece of work and the director's own high-functioning autistic brother appears during the end-credits.
Movies like this can become cloying very fast, but Guang remains steadfast and never goes down the road of syrupy sentimentality for the first two acts. By the third act I already gave it a free pass to do the worst to me, and I have to say every tear was earned.
The movie rises on the authenticity of the brothers' relationship, brilliantly captured by a stunningly vivid cinematography. The streets of Kuala Lumpur's seedy Pudu district and their ramshackle apartment were lit and shot with a vibrancy, like a Malaysia I have never seen. The framing of every shot looks meticulously planned and carried out.
Kyo Chen's turn as Wen Guang is superb. Most times actors playing these roles tend to draw all the attention, but Chen never consumes the frames, letting his honest performance inform his struggles. His glassy stares and his flustered states of exigencies readily draw empathy. Likewise with Ernest Chong who plays the younger brother. Their portrayals are natural and the humour unforced. The characters conversed in a mixture of Mandarin, Cantonese and Malay, giving the movie a great sense of place and time.
The redemption arc of both brothers is deeply satisfying. Nothing is laid out in convenient expositions and in one instance we ended up discussing during the drive home how the "two becomes one" plot sequence transpired and our admiration for the storytelling went up another notch. However, something else my wife shared brought a pregnant pause. Who are we to say that an autistic person is abnormal? They can stay focused at a task until it reaches perfection, but we on the other hand have a thousand things vying for our attention at any given moment, and we sometimes can't even do that one task to the best of our ability.
There are many movies out there that thrill, make us laugh, scare us, turn us into softies, but you can count on the fingers of probably one hand the few movies in a year that make you understand the impaired person and make you want to become a better person. Guang is the first movie I have seen this year in this latter category.
Jimami Tofu (2017)
Don't see this on an empty stomach
When I see and feel love oozing out of every frame, my critic's hat completely disappears and I am able to meet the movie halfway. Jimami Tofu is that movie for me this year.
I have heard some nice things about Jimami Tofu last year, but I made the mistake of watching another locally made foodie movie called Ramen Teh, which left a bad taste in my mouth and I thought one local foodie movie a year is enough. It was by pure chance that I discovered a single screening at the cinema on a Wednesday evening and my wifey was on leave. The stars were aligned and off we went.
One of the things I love when it comes to watching movies or going to concerts is when I get a chance to show my appreciation for the artistes' efforts face to face. Christian Lee (director) and Jason Chan (lead actor) were there manning a table selling t-shirts, soundtracks, tote bags and souvenir screenplays of their movie. I had a nice chat with them and they seemed the nicest dudes ever with a passion for filmmaking.
Prior before the movie began and I must say it was quite a good crowd, the filmmakers gave a short talk with regards to the genesis of the project. They were actually in Okinawa to shoot a travelogue documentary, but fell in love with everything Okinawan. One thing led to another and they decided a movie would best showcase the unique history, culture and cuisine of the land. The two of them then took on all the major tasks of filmmaking - directing, editing, producing, writing, acting, sound, cinematography and even composing the score for the movie. How's that for passion?
There is a scene in the movie of Yuki, the food critic, about to enter a restaurant and the owner lambast her for destroying his reputation by writing an atrocious food review of his old restaurant. I think herein lies one of the responsibilities of a movie critic: how do we draw the line between honesty and curry-flavouring? Can we be brutally honest without sacrificing our integrity? Compassion is the key, and it is also the key to so many things in life.
I can probably give you a wall of words on what the movie failed to do, like how it should have ended two scenes ago, how a sub-plot can be completely excised without sacrificing the movie, how some characters' motivations are not defined clearly and so on. However, deep down in my heart, I felt the movie erred on the filmmakers' efforts to do too much, by that I mean showcasing the languid lifestyle of the people and the humble cuisine of Okinawa. Their passion was contagious as I find myself being immersed in the beautiful land of Okinawa.
There is a beautiful scene late in the movie which detailed what the old chef did for a young couple on their first date and friends who were mourning at a funeral wake in the midst of a typhoon; that for me, was one of the strongest heartbeats of the movie and depicts the power of what good food can wield. That scene managed to make my wifey tear up. A few evenings ago, we saw Taiwan's number one tearjerker More Than Blue and it couldn't even conjure a single tear out of her. It goes to show how she can spot emotionally manipulative tricks from a mile away, and here the sincerity of that scene rings true. Her tears were earned.
Great films that feature food like The Lunchbox (2013) and Jiro Dreams of Sushi (2011), treat food like metaphors to weave stories about the human condition, while Jimami Tofu uses food as a metaphor for familial love and bridging relationships. It may be an over-used metaphor, but the sincerity is palpable. Here, food is likened to a symphony with every element coming together at the right moment to bring forth an explosion of memories. And as in all good foodie movies, don't go in with an empty stomach.
Manbiki kazoku (2018)
Sometimes water can be thicker than blood
Hirokazu Kore-eda's The Third Murder (2017) left me cold and entertaining the notion that Kore-eda has lost his mojo. O ye of little faith, please forgive me... Shoplifters, fresh from being minted with the highest honour, the Palme d'Or, at this year's Cannes Film Festival, is Kore-eda back to being his emotionally devastating best. This ranks in the top tier of his outstanding output. If ever there is a film that can declare that sometimes, just sometimes, water can be thicker than blood, this is it.
Somewhere in Tokyo, Osamu Shibata (Lily Franky), his 'wife' Nobuyo (Sakura Ando) and 'daughter' Aki (Mayu Matsuoka) live in poverty. While Osamu receives occasional employment and Nobuyo has a low-paying job, the family relies in large part on 'grandmother' Hatsue's pension. As he is shoplifting for groceries with his 'son', Shota (Kairi Jo), they discover Yuri (Miyu Sasaki), a neglected girl. Osamu takes her home, where the family observes evidence of abuse. Despite their strained finances, they informally adopt her.
Once in a long while, a film can come along, sneaks up on you and sends your heart into a flutter of tiny explosions. Coming out of the screening with six other friends, we had to dissect what we had just experienced. As it turned out, it wasn't much of a deconstruction, but more of a discussion of the ideas of the family unit that Kore-eda paints with such delicate and painterly brushstrokes. That's when you realise the immense power of cinema and what it can do. This is a gem.
Kore-eda dives into his favourite theme of the family unit and observes what will happen to the bedrock of familial relationships if it goes through a seismic shift. It is a theme he has dealt with in outstanding films like Nobody Knows (2004), Still Walking (2008), I Wish (2011), Like Father, Like Son (2013), Our Little Sister (2015) and After the Storm (2016). After so many excellent films on the same theme, you would think what else can he still distill. Shoplifters may be Kore-eda most complex, but yet his most accessible film to date.
The ideas explored in Shoplifters are multi-faceted and piercingly intelligent, intermeshed into a tapestry that will fall apart if even one scene is taken out. The script is subtle and draws empathy readily. So many times the dialogue feels innocuous, only for the poignancy to hit you in the gut some time later. It doesn't judge, never points a finger at any party, nothing here errs on the side of twee. The tone is deftly maintained from the first frame to the devastating last.
As usual, the heavy-lifting is done by the youngest actors, performances so naturalistic that they feel authentic. The ensemble is superbly cast and each of them shines in their own memorable way. They may be thieves, but there is honour and righteousness in them. They do not represent the lowest strata of the Japanese society and don't believe in handouts. With a warped sense of justice, they are willing to break the rules to survive. Above all else, their love and trust for each other is the glue that binds them.
Kore-eda never cheapens the emotional ride and doles out expositions like sermons. Details of characters are gradually accumulated in a Zen manner till it hits a gut-wrenching last act.
Like a lot of his heart-wrenching films, Shoplifters feels like a 3-hour magnum opus and I was again surprised it is only a 2-hour film because Kore-eda packs so much in the story. You will no doubt feel like you had lived a lifetime with the characters. Shoplifters is essential viewing and provides many involving examinations of what constitutes a true family. I love what the matriarch of the family said in a contemplative scene at the beach and I will paraphrase - "Sometimes it is better to be with the family you choose rather than the family you are born in". Some food for thought there.
Beoning (2018)
A hypnotic menagerie of the basest of human behaviour
Terms like "masterpiece" and "breathtaking" are used far too often, yet they define Lee Chang-dong's latest, eight years after his brutally lyrical Poetry (2010). However, Burning, based on Haruki Murakami's short story Barn Burning, is not an easy film to watch. Allusive and elusive, it begins as a brilliant character study and gradually shifts its gear segueing into psychological thriller territory.
Jong-su (Yoo Ah-in), a part-time worker, bumps into Hae-mi (Jun Jeong-seo) while delivering, who used to live in the same neighborhood. Hae-mi asks him to look after her cat while she's on a trip to Africa. When Hae-mi comes back, she introduces Ben (Steven Yuen), a mysterious guy she met in Africa, to Jong-su. One day, Ben visits Jong-su's with Hae-mi and confesses to him during a pot session that he burns abandoned greenhouses.
In anticipation of the film, I re-read the Haruki Murakami's short story taken from the anthology The Elephant Vanishes. Like a lot of his works, the story feels cryptic, simple on the surface, surreal once it gets under your skin. There is a mystery but Murakami doesn't quite persuade you to penetrate beneath the veneer. I certainly didn't think for one second it could be adapted into a film because there doesn't seem to be much of a plot at all. My wife shared the same sentiment. We were all the more curious as to what Lee could distill from this intriguing short story.
Like Murakami's distinctive prose, Lee's Burning retains the other-worldly surreality through arthouse pacing and artful cinematography. The first act moves at a languid pace as we observe Jong-su's infectious reticence and Hae-mi's enthusiastic flamboyance. It is an unlikely match, but you will sense the possibility of a sweet romance. They long to cling near one another like satellites, but they will never share the same orbit because forming the third vertex of the triangular relationship is Ben, the coolly detached upper-class, the spanner in the works, the Great Gatsby.
As much as the first act plays like a meditative dance of a fever dream and an elegy for lost innocence, I also recognise that it will be divisive. I have a feeling most filmgoers won't have the patience to sit through it and be emotionally vested in the characters. Lee may be an extraordinary image maker, gently probing deep into the human psyche, its desires and impulses, but the story feels opaque, dense, resembling an enigma. But if one is a serious filmgoer, it is easy to slip into Lee's rhapsodic wonder of a tale, patiently waiting for the bomb to drop. It is when the head film becomes a mind film in the second act that it pays dividends tenfold.
If Murakami's short story feels deceptively simple, Lee takes it into the nether region of complexity. He unravels what it means to be consumed by a mystery and what it means to be alive. The production is meticulously artful - ponder over how Jong-su's home is a stone's throw from the border of both Koreas and how propaganda is blaring every other hour, and ravel in the beautiful light of the sunset as Ben shares his unusual hobby. Lee is able to externalise the interior states of the human mind in extraordinary ways. The subtext of social classes in the Korean society also plunges a knife into one's consciousness. He is also helped by a unique soundtrack of discordant musical cues that grow in mysterious power as the story grows in stature. Lee builds the final act to a feverish high and he almost wants to deny us the satisfaction of a resolution, but it does arrive at an ending that is shocking and inevitable. There is no celebration; there is only the quiet satisfaction of arriving at the solution of a baffling Math problem that has nagged at you for many sleepless nights.
Lee fills every frame with meaning, enhanced and accentuated in no small part by the three superb leads. He priorities rhythm and texture over narrative clarity, immersing us in a hypnotic menagerie of the basest of human behaviour. Burning is an engrossing tale of the unravelling of a rational and innocent mind by sheer desire, rich with characterisations and themes. It is a Korean film unlike any other Korean film I have seen and it immediately warrants a second or third viewing to catch all the nuances. I hope I don't have to wait another eight years for his next film.
Sin-gwa ham-kke: In-gwa yeon (2018)
An overstuffed shadow of the first film
If the first movie epitomises redemption, then the sequel dives headlong into forgiveness. Along With the Gods: The Two Worlds was a helluva ride through the underworld; the only misstep for me is how it went overboard with the ludicrous special effects. By that I mean how the vengeful spirit and Gang Rim go mano a mano with the city as their playground. The sequel, Along With the Gods: The Last 49 Days, was shot together with the massively popular first film and it has become the second all-time box-office grosser in South Korea. However, it is an overstuffed shadow of the first film.
The sequel begins moments after the end of The Two Worlds, with the three guardians, Gang Rim (Ha Jung-woo), Haewonmak (Ju Ji-hoon) and Lee Dukchun (Kim Hyang-gi) guiding their 49th soul Kim Soo-hong (Kim Dong-wook), the brother of Kim Ja-hong, to the trials for his reincarnation. The stakes are higher because if it is successful, the three guardians will also be reincarnated.
King Yeomra (Lee Jung-jae), Lord of the Afterlife, agrees to a fair trail on the condition that Gang Rim proceeds with the case on his own, while Haewonmak and Dukchun go down to the world of humans to dispatch a troublesome housegod Sung-joo (Ma Dong-seok) and ascend an overdue soul.
The Last 49 Days has a lot to live up to and it just could not sustain under the weight of expectations set by its predecessor. The first half becomes a bit of a slog with the pacing largely going missing and the world-building taking a backseat. This is a case of lightning not being able to strike the same spot twice.
Firstly, the chemistry between the three guardians of the Afterlife went missing in the first two acts, partly because Gang Rim and his compatriots are separated. Like The Two Worlds, the narrative becomes two-pronged but sadly neither reaches the same dizzying levels. Soo-hong makes for an annoying and smart-alecky character, who doesn't garner the same sympathy as his brother, Ja-hong. It is a good move that the story doesn't go through the same process as Ja-hong but what takes its place doesn't make for compelling viewing, and dinosaurs don't help. Haewonmak and Dukchun fare better because of the intriguing character of Sung-joo, a superb casting choice. However, this time round the Stephen-Chow-resque slapstick comedy is a hit or miss.
Secondly, director Kim Yong-hwa couldn't quite find the right balance between the light fantastic and the hard-hitting drama, which led to pacing issues, so much so that I did the dreaded thing - I checked my watch.
However, all is not lost... when the story does hit the final act with the story of the three guardians revealed, it hits its groove. But still, one can't help but feel it came a little too late to save the movie.
Searching (2018)
This is a movie that very much informs these times
I saw the trailer for Searching a couple times at the cinema. The one adjective that exploded in my mind was "gimmicky". Watching the story events unfold on a computer screen projected on a cinema screen definitely screams gimmicky, but I have to admit it worked and it is also an absorbing nerve-shredding exercise. The narrative device serves the story well and I can't help but feel the movie wouldn't have worked as well with a more traditional approach. The novel concept also serves to make a statement of these current times where social media and the internet rule every day and every moment of our lives.
There is an air of inevitability about the inventive concept. We live in times where social media and the internet are so much a part of us - where we are, what we are doing, our likes, desires, frustrations and all our myriad of feelings are showcased like beacons and loutish statements that our lives are so vivid. We craved affirmations in the form of a "like". However, herein lies the great irony: for all that the social media purports to do - making the world smaller and connected, it can also make one feel lonelier as one ogles at everybody's life which somehow feels more colourful than yours.
Once Cho's David Kim meticulously investigates Margot's digital footprint, he learns that he doesn't know his daughter. How well do you know your children? What is written on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter and the likes, how much can you trust it? The movie does a good job of showing the duality of these social platforms.
Cho is well-cast as the anxious father and his emotional range is palpable. Equally effective is Debra Messing as the no nonsense policewoman. Newcomer Michelle La is also excellent as Margot.
All the more impressive is that Searching is Indian-American Aneesh Chaganty's directorial debut. The movie won the Alfred P. Sloan Feature Film Prize and Next Audience Award at the Sundance Film Festival earlier this year. His grasp of the thriller genre is impeccable and I am sure you will hear Hitchcock's name mentioned in the same breath. What I find most impressive is his use of the concept and how it never feels laboured all through a breathless 103 minutes. It all feels plausible and natural. Just observe the initial few minutes in which it gives texture and breath to Margot's life from birth and you are already vested in the characters on a computer screen.
It is very hard to pen a review for Searching because the thrill is in the visceral experience and not knowing what comes next. This is a rollercoaster of a ride and just when you think the rollercoaster car has completed the most death-defying loop and is about to pull into the station, it does one more wild cartwheel with your insides hanging out and your adrenaline shot through the roof. This is a movie that very much informs these times.
A Star Is Born (2018)
A richly layered devastating love story
Why do we enjoy watching anyone - an athlete, a musician, an actor, a dancer, a circus performer - do something difficult, but yet make it look so easy and joyful? It invigorates us, gives us a jolt and makes us feel euphoric. Perhaps, it tells us that that person has perfected his/her craft through sheer endeavour and cathartically we, and in turn human kind, have scored a victory.
The talent on display in A Star is Born, from the refreshing crafting of a familiar story to every stellar performance, was electrifying. There have been three iterations of this story, starting with the Pygmalion tale in 1937, but somehow first-time director Bradley Cooper has given the laboured story a fresh coat of paint and it is a movie for that informs these times.
The Oscar season is months away, but I will bet my bottom dollar that this gets a slew of nominations, including Best Picture. I had goosebumps rising while watching the plot unfold and this is the first time it happened this year.
One of the movie's pleasures is that it's really about something and of course romance takes centrestage. It also has something to say about the price of fame, the propensity to cultivate talent and how contagious it is. The story of a doomed romance you can see from a mile away, but Cooper and Eric Roth (Oscar winner for Forrest Gump, 1994) somehow managed to retell an old story in a fresh way.
The first thing they did right is in the casting of Lady Gaga. On paper, I didn't think she makes for a wise choice for a streetsmart Ally because of her larger-than-life much malingered persona. I can't remember the last time I actually saw her face with no enhancements and make-up on. In terms of her music, I could only get into her infectious debut The Fame, and none of her subsequent albums registered in my consciousness. Wouldn't a guarded Ally be the anti-thesis of Lady Gaga's rock star persona? But all my misgivings evaporated the moment she hits those power notes. She is the mother lode, she is the real deal. All the singing in the movie was done live, to the camera and scoring Lady Gaga is the first major coup.
The story of how one star gradually goes supernova, while another fades into oblivion is a story as old as romance. The way to make the dots and lines disappear is to make the characters relatable and believable. Bradley Cooper, going the way of Nicholas Cage in Leaving Las Vegas and Jeff Bridges in Crazy Heart, turns in an outstanding performance. His voice is a couple of octaves lower than his usual roles and seeing him in a constant inebriated state and yet having the acumen to see talent is quite something to behold. You can almost pinpoint the moment he begins to love Ally, and of course their onscreen chemistry is electrifying. And when I say "love", I don't mean Hollywood's version of wanting to get into each other's pants as fast as possible. His journey from admiration to love for Ally is immensely moving.
Cooper's choice of close-up shots and handheld cinematography gives the story a sense of realism. How the camera weaves around the actors on a rock concert stage gives me an adrenaline-charged view of what actually happens on stage while the audience is cheering.
Above all else, what actually did it for me is how the devastating love story never becomes manipulative. Although the music and songs direct and reflect the feelings of the characters, it never cheapens the narrative by being overly sentimental.
A sad sense of inevitability pervades and the movie does get a bit exhausting after the charm of the sensational start wears off. But heck... I think it is meant to be exhausting. How else can one see Maine's star wane and Ally's get meteoric?
A Star is Born's blend of romantic tragedy and emotional delimma is presented with compelling conviction and honesty. It ends with a sort of honey-trap but by then I was a goner and with a definitive final shot the movie earned its namesake, A Star is Born.
Hyeob-sang (2018)
A pulsating thriller
Not since Cold Eyes (2013) have I seen a top tier Korean thriller.
This is one of those movies so dense with information that if you take a break to check your social media, you are going to miss something. In The Negotiation, information that is seemingly unimportant is going to feature like da bomb later. Pay attention!
The two leads are superbly cast. Their character motivations are superbly painted. When all the jigsaw pieces start to fit together... OMG! What elevates it even higher is that 90% of the time both of them are in two locked rooms separated by an ocean (or is it?). The tension is armrest-gripping marvellous. The twists and turns more than a rollercoaster ride. The pace never falters and the ending is satisfying. The motto here is the X-Files maxim "trust no one", not even the police and especially the government.
Red Sparrow (2018)
A frigid and turgid dish
Jennifer Lawrence plays a Russian secret service operative who gets raped, endures an attempted rape, gets beaten, gets a black eye, slashed, stabbed, gets a gun put to her head, has to strip in front of dozen pairs of indifferent eyes and has a man died on top (and inside) of her. Sounds like a helluva thriller if I put it that way. However, it turned out to be a totally bland experience. I am filing this under the "trailer is better than the movie" category.
The movie starts rather well. Cross-cutting tensely between two characters in two separate locations in Russia, the opening has pizazz and attitude, but it quickly simmers down to a lull. Granted this is not a spy thriller in the mold of The Bourne Trilogy and more in the plaintive vein of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, Francis Lawrence's fourth outing with Jennifer Lawrence doesn't even strive to be at least exciting. So much is at stake and everything seems to fall on both Lawrences' shoulders, but just like the perennial cold Russian weather, they serve up a frigid and turgid dish.
Jennifer Lawrence puts in a professional and fearless performance and in one chilling moment performs a difficult scene with aplomb. It is a scene that takes a lot of guts to bring to life and you will know it when you see it. But her character is painted with little guile and her cold exterior is impenetrable. Her character is humanised by her love for her bedridden mother and every time she appears the heavy-handed mawkishness nearly pushed me into a near-diabetic coma. Why can't her character motivation be painted differently? So I am to gather that she messes up men for noble reasons? Cliché.
For a movie that mixes spycraft with erotica, Red Sparrow doesn't do either particularly well. The narrative sidesteps into clandestine territory with vague purpose and the cards are held so close to Lawrence's ample chest that it is difficult to sense who her allegiance is to or her cunning wileness. The cloak and dagger intrigue and mental chess games are not on par with the best spy movies that have graced our consciousness like Munich or The Bourne Trilogy, so much so that when the final denouement arrives it touches down with little impact.
In terms of erotic drama, Lawrence and Edgerton have zilch chemistry. It begins well enough at the swimming pool, but I find it hard to buy into their relationship and the huge stakes involved. A movie like this rise or fall on their on-screen chemistry, but their pairing left me cold. When it should sizzle with sultry energy, it barely purrs like a malnourished pussycat.
At a runtime of 139 minutes, nothing of note happens and my mind isn't engaged by all the espionage manoeuvrings. Violence comes in bright red flashes, but isn't compelling in terms of stakes when characters are so uninterestingly drawn. It is a shame because the story offers up so much promise (I am currently reading the book and I hate to say this, but the book is better). On top of needing a tighter edit to quicken the pace, what Red Sparrow needs is a better storyteller. As it is, this is just an unmemorable and mostly functional "point A to point B" fare. Imagine if the film were to be helmed by a director who could gel all the elements into an organic beast. Now, that would be a film blooded in crimson and Jennifer Lawrence would have disrobed for a worthier film.
Sin-gwa ham-kke: Jwi-wa beol (2017)
Superb entertainment that will make you reflect upon your life
I like putting movies into Venn diagrams and I have special categories always swimming in my head like "movies with a great final shot" and "movies that showcase traits I would like in my future partner". Then there is that one category that doesn't have many movies - "movies that can make you reflect upon one's life". Along with The Gods: The Two Worlds slips in there ever so surreptitiously.
I didn't figure the Korean blockbuster to be a tearjerker, but it most certainly was. All through the screening, I could hear people around me sniffling and wiping their tears away unabashedly, me included. The movie doesn't even try to be subtle in this aspect and I must say every rivulet of my tears was earned.
Yet the story is also fashioned as a fast-paced pulsating adventure ride and it scores top marks in this aspect too. My eyes blinked in disbelief and my mind boggled in awe as the twists and turns become wilder and twistier, but never losing its grasp on the audience. This is high concept done well, every far-fetched notion perfectly digestible. There is superb verve in its storytelling. Nothing is truly what it seems.
Along with the Gods: The Two Worlds is a film that is solidly cast. I don't get the Korean names very well, but I watch a lot of Korean cinema and TV dramas and instantly recognised all the familiar faces. Cha Tae Hyun is perfectly cast as the good-natured Paragon with a well of secrets that threaten to derail his chances at reincarnation at every trial. The casting of the 3 grim reapers is also spot-on with differing dynamics that lend propulsion to the story.
There is some amazing world building here, every level of hell is well-rendered and nothing for this reviewer feels repetitive. The CGI work here is top-notch, considering 90% of the movie is probably done to a green screen. IMHO CGI is just a means to an end and the end must always be to serve the story. The story is so strong here that the CGI disappears into the background.
Exposition is always a tricky business in storytelling and Along with the Gods: The Two Worlds is practically all exposition. But the intrigue and suspense build-up through character motivations constantly draws one deeper into the proceedings. My senses hinged closely on the afterlife guardians' explanations at every turn as I got ready for the next trial. Even with the advance preparation the trial still puts me in a tailspin with some shocking revelations. Director Kim Yong Hwa even takes a 2-pronged narrative trek midway with both narrative trajectories dovetailing in the final act effectively.
The story resonates on God levels here. It is a rip-roaring adventure action film, but it also scores as an examination of the complexities of life lived in whatever station you are in. I shuddered in my seat as the end credits ran, wondering if I will see another movie that is as thrilling and heartfelt as this or can I even pass the seven trials right at that moment. Movies should do this - move you and make you want to become a better person. In a year you can count on the fingers of one hand, movies that can perform this feat successfully.
PS - a cameo during the ending threw me into a loop. I only found out later that this is the first of a 2-part epic, the concluding chapter will open in the summer of this year. Oh yeah! I am ready.
Coco (2017)
An exploding piñata of vivid colours and warm feelings
Back in 2014, Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) was used as subject matter in The Book of Life, but I couldn't get pass the half hour mark. It was too kid-friendly and too contrived for my taste. I never like stories which I can map out the narrative trajectory way ahead of time. Sitting in the cinema, the first 15 minutes of Coco had me charting the story ahead of time and the dreaded feeling cascaded over me. Then, when it was least expected, the rug was pulled out from under my feet and I watched the rest of the movie with a big smile and with tears streaming down at the end, every tear was earned.
Coco had some exposition to get through in the beginning and got through it did with panache and familial familiarity. The backstory is told through paper cut-outs and we learned why music is downright detested in the extended family. Though the attention to details is stunning, my mind unconsciously went down the dream-broken-dream-fulfilled road of redemption. But ever so surreptitiously Pixar surprises with a sharp turn and delivers another sumptuous piece of storytelling with Lee Unkrich (Toy Story 3) holding the steering wheel.
Coco possesses a kinetic charm as Miguel, excellently voiced by Anthony Gonzalez, waltzes through the Land of the Dead in a vivid sea of colours. The world building is amazingly rendered with its own internal physics and reality. It is a riot of warm hues and buoyant mariachi music, a thoroughly realised universe with skeletal figures that have real souls.
The characters are all well-drawn and the voice work by the all-Latino cast is excellent. The passion is evident in full wonder and as vivid as a rose petal on snow. The Mexican culture and traditions fill the screen with authenticity and are lovingly rendered. So much is conveyed via a framed photograph on a family altar that it transcends to something else altogether. The reverence for the folks who have passed on is well-handled. When it hits the last act, my tears streamed down.
Coco is no Inside Out (2015), but it is still a timely and glowing piece of work, an exploding piñata of colours and all shades of warm feelings. School is out, bring your kids to watch this and after that, sit somewhere nice and share about all those family members who had passed on and who meant so much to you. I think the act itself keeps them "alive".
PS – I do feel that the trailer inadvertently let out some of twists in the story, so I would suggest not watching it if you intend to see the movie.
Thor: Ragnarok (2017)
This Thor is Thor-some!
Frankly, I didn't like the first two Thor movies, the game plan was so clear from the get go. Same old "save the world" routines, brooding hero with a burden, a love connection born out of necessity and bloated battle scenes. It is the same blueprint for many superhero movies, but Thor has the God element that made the stories feel even more preposterous and ridiculous. It is hard to be vested in his quests because God don't die, hurt as much and can always employ one last deus ex machina that solves the unsolvable problem. But Thor: Ragnarok throws that over-used game plan out from Bifrost into an unknown territory, making it this year's best superhero movie. I know I know
Justice League has not descended, but looking at the trailer it doesn't take a genius to see that it will be doing the above-mentioned routine.
New Zealand director Taika Waititi seems like an unusual choice to helm Thor's third standalone movie. He has the indie root in him and he makes superbly smart comedies with oddles of heart, just watch What We Do in the Shadows (2014) and Hunt for the Wilderpeople (2016) to see his outstanding oeuvre. Apparently, the Marvel-Disney studios have given him full reins and he went ahead and make a comedy. But how do you inject an indie comedic vibe into a superhero franchise that has not been done before?
Essentially, Waititi throws out all the cumbersome weights that hampered Thor and tells a simpler but no less cool story about a superhero trying to get back to his home to clean house. In between he gives Thor ample opportunities to be a beer-swigging beefcake, negotiate some treacherously outlandish situations and strip him off the one thing that makes him Thor, the Mjolnir. At one point, Odin even asks a defeated Thor "What are you, the God of Hammers? " that had me laughing till my tears rolled down.
The tone is light but no less serious, populated by so many colourful characters in a vivid world trapped in impossible situations. At first I thought the introduction of Hulk in the early trailer is a misstep, but Mark Ruffalo's casting would have been close to impossible to keep under wraps. By giving Planet Hulk comic fans a look-in would have been a better move. The repartee between Thor and Hulk/Banner is so hilarious. No less funny is also the dialogue between Thor and Loki, gone is that "he ain't heavy, he is my brother" vibe and this is a Thor that will give Loki a smackdown if he is out of step.
Cate Blanchett plays Thor's estranged sister with evil relish and you don't cast Jeff Goldblum without allowing him to be Goldblum. Waititi even voices a gladiator-mentor character named Korg that practically steals all the scenes he is in. Chris Hemsworth hams it up just to a safe degree and nails all the one-liners with an A+. In fact, the whole cast seems to be having fun.
Thor: Ragnarok embraces its preposterousness and swims in a pool of ridiculousness with the deadpan and self-mocking humour hitting all the bullseyes. In the midst of it all, it still manages to tell a super duper cool story of a superhero saving his people. Yet it manages to remain fresh and zip along with a zany lightning pace. What an inspired choice for a director. The risk taken will pay huge dividends. This has superb rewatch value and I already feel like buying another ticket just to catch all the one-liners one more time. This Thor is Thor-some!
Namiya Zakkaten no kiseki (2017)
Magical
A friend WhatsApp-ed me the movie poster and shared with me in enthusiastic words that it is based on an amazing book and it is going to be a good movie. I thanked her and filed it at the back of my mind and forgot about it. Then
one night in bed, I found out that the story is written by Keigo Higashino and a resounding "whoop" escaped from my lips and my wife next to me had a shock. That was it
we had to see it. Between the both of us, every time a Keigo Higashino book is released in English, our life events will revolve around it till we have both read and dissected it. Author of The Devotion of Suspect X and Journey Under the Midnight Sun, Higashino writes intricately plotted mysteries that will give your brain a good workout and your soul much needed nourishment. The Miracles of the Namiya General Store is a rare foray into fantasy and drama for him, but it displays the same multi-layered plotting and attention to detail we have come to expect.
One night in 2012, Atsuya (Kyosuke Yamada from the pop group Hey! Say! JUMP) and his two buddies are up to mischief. To stay hidden from the police, they decided to hide in an abandoned provision shophouse. When the coast is clear, they decided to leave, but no matter where they run they will eventually land up at the derelict shop. They holed themselves up in the shop to make sense of things. Some time in the night, a slot in the metal front gate opens and letters drop in. It turns out that the letters are addressed to Mr Namiya (69 year-old veteran Toshiyuki Nishida), the owner of the store 32 years ago, asking for advice for their personal problems. Scourging the internet for clues, they learn that Mr Namiya used to dole out advice for anyone who writes to him with their problems and leave the replies written in long hand in a delivery box for bottled milk. With time on their hands, the three wayward guys take turns to pen replies and the recipient of the replies will receive them 32 years ago. In the process, the trio embark on a journey of self- discovery.
Okay
I know you are thinking of The Lake House (2006), which is a remake of the Korean movie Il Mare (2000), where a ubiquitous mailbox acts as a conduit between two timelines. Director Ryuichi Hiroki and writers Hirosh Saito and Keigo Higashino, expand that idea so marvellously that the story encompasses so much more than just a romantic story.
In the hands of another filmmaker, the movie could have become conveniently episodic, but here the stories are layered so sublimely that they eventually resemble a slice of the perfect rainbow cake. This is drama done well, the situations may feel contrived and mawkish, but a magical twist in the end makes it come up smelling like a bed of roses. Stories don't end, they become seeds for the next one, proving once again that good acts create ripples in the tranquil pond of the human experience. That's just one of the many lessons I drew from it – sometimes you do not see the effect of your good acts because you do not have an omniscient view, and sometimes the far-reaching effects may just stun you.
The sense of place and time is strong here, and the 1980s is well depicted. The nostalgia is in full bloom. One of the joys of the movie for me is ravishing in the art of the written word. Technology has accelerated so rapidly that it has sounded the death knell for the art of letter writing. Very few narratives deal with this lost art of letting words simmer in your mind before putting them carefully on paper. Namiya doesn't dole out clichés and broad strokes – he pens each reply meticulously and thoughtfully. Sometimes they can be hilarious and most of the time they are poignant and hits the nail on the head. I am of the opinion that most people who writes in to Aunt Agony don't need help with their problem. They already know what they intend to do, but what they crave for is affirmation and the movie addresses this interesting aspect.
Hiroki does over-play his hand in allowing moments of over-acting and lingering on poignant scenes a tad longer than needed. But how I wish there is a movie like this playing in the cinemas every other week. This belongs to a rare breed of movies that nourishes the soul and reaffirms life, that no matter what station of life you are in, always do good and your legacy will be secured.
Blade Runner 2049 (2017)
Masterpiece
Denis Villeneuve's Blade Runner 2049 is a natural progression from the original film in terms of tone, themes and narrative. It deepens and expands on the original's narrative template to dizzying levels and in my book this is a much better film. From the opening establishing shots coupled with Hans Zimmer's intimidating score, I was awash in a bubble of déjà vu and 35 years whizzed by just like that
(snap).
There are many ways to tell a Blade Runner story – it could have gone by way of a regurgitation of the same old ideas or simply a re-boot, maxing out all the elements that made the original an enduring classic, but Blade Runner 2049 organically furthers narrative elements in the original to a deeper and philosophical place, making one contemplate over the theme of what makes a human being a human being.
Like the original, there is a Neo noir element tied to the proceedings, and Ryan Gosling takes over where Harrison Ford left off. Gosling's deadpan expression is inscrutable, but behind the facade lies vulnerability. Some of the best scenes involved him and his virtual girlfriend Joi (Ana de Armas
oh la la). Watch out for a sex scene involving a surrogate that betters the one in Her (2013). It is at once scintillating and tender, but also profoundly sad.
Harrison Ford returns in his original role and right now at his age he plays it marvellously, grumpy and tired, as it should be. His return doesn't feel like sentimental fan service and is woven neatly into the compelling narrative. Unlike, A Force Awakens, Ford does put in a shift.
Narratively, Villeneuve doesn't pander or pays homage readily, meticulously forging his own mythology. Does Villeneuve even know how to make a bad movie? Characters speak little and mistrust in relationships is the glue that binds. The story feels opaque, filled with enigmas. The world is as bleak as the one 30 years ago, but updated to show a deeper sense of social disconnect. The CGI is outstanding – for nearly 3 hours, I was transported to a world that feels "it could happen". Cityscapes and landscapes, I have never seen before in all the countless sci-fi movies I have seen. The cinematography by Roger Deakins is breathtaking – please tell me this is his finally his year.
The near 3-hour runtime does offer pacing problems, but I find it so easy to luxuriate in this emotionless dystopian world and look for fleeting instances of hope and glimpses of humanity. If there's another weakness, it is in the villainy of Niander Wallace's character, played by Jared Leto. He just isn't bad ass enough, but thankfully there's his bodyguard Luv (Sylvia Hoeks) who kicks ass.
This is easily one of the year's best films. It aims for the sky and lands up in outer space, way beyond my wildest dreams. This needs to be experienced in IMAX and I don't even use the word "seen".
Kimi no suizô o tabetai (2017)
An old school tearjerker
Okay okay I got lured and pranked by the cool title, thinking it's some zombie gorefest. I got even more keen to see it when I found out it's an old-school ten-hankie tearjerker. Cried, I did, and every tear is earned. Over the course of the film, the odd title takes on meaning and made a resounding impact.
I (Takumi Kitamura) am a high school student. I happen to find a diary by my classmate Sakura Yamauchi (Minami Hamabe) that reveals she is suffering from pancreatic cancer. She will draw me out of my shell and I will help her fulfill the wishes on her bucket-list.
12 years later, due to Sakura's words, I (Shun Oguri) am now a high school teacher at the same school where I graduated from. While I talk with my student, I remember the several months I spent with Sakura. Meanwhile, Kyoko (Keiko Kitagawa), who was Sakura's friend, is about to marry. Kyoko also recalls the days she spent with me and Sakura.
Yes, the main protagonist isn't named throughout the film.
This is a story about a burgeoning teenage romance between two high school classmates on opposite ends of the popularity spectrum. The socially awkward boy is a librarian who sees a lost book as a sad book, but Sakura sees it as lost treasure for the finder. He can never hold eye contact with anyone and protects the space around him for dear life. Whereas Sakura is a girl with a cheerful and optimistic disposition who just happens to be suffering from a terminal disease. Sakura may be dying, but she is not about to throw in the towel yet and wants to hit as many highs as possible in the few months she has left. Their friendship seems unlikely, but it is easy to buy into their blossoming love because they are so likable and their time is so finite.
Kitamura gives a restrained performance, allowing Hamabe to shine in counterpoint. When his character finally opens up in the end, we can feel the emotional impact like a swinging sledgehammer to the gut. Hamabe's Sakura is a beacon of hope, a cauldron of positivity and a dispenser of wisdom. It is easy to fall in love with her so much so that it becomes heartbreaking because we know what comes at the next turn. She is wisely not made out to be a saint in that she is curious about sex and her attempts at seduction you know what I shall let you discover that for yourself 😊.
Director Sho Tsukikawa seems like an old hand at crafting tearjerkers and he handles the emotional scenes with deftness. The emotional scenes don't feel manipulative or pretentious, carrying many nuggets of life's wisdom through the protagonists. He knows how to fill your heart with beauty and gradually inflate it till it explodes in an avalanche of cherry blossom petals.
The movie takes an interesting detour from Yoru Sumino's 2015 bestseller in that it jumps forward 12 years to show Sakura's impact on others. So essentially the story is told in flashbacks. Thankfully, they are well-handled and never becomes an over-used narrative device. When I was in one timeline, I kept wondering about the characters in the other.
The story has a sublime twist in the end, earning its namesake and proving that Sakura has achieved that most important thing in any person's life – to change the world around her. Her memory lives on in others.
Cheong-nyeon-gyeong-chal (2017)
This year there were no other movies that made me laugh this hard
Entertaining buddy-cop action flicks have not been lighting up the screens for some time. In comes Midnight Runners which tweaks the well-trodden formula and the result is one crackerjack of a super-fun thriller. So far this year, no other movies have made me laugh so heartily.
Gi Jun (Park Seo Jun), aka Mr Action, and Kang Hee Yeol (Kang Ha Neul), Mr Germophobe-Bookworm, are two best friends at the Korean National Police University. They accidentally witness a young woman getting abducted and decide to work together to investigate it because they have learnt that time is of the essence in cases like this – even when they get tied up in red tape and find out they could be expelled.
Buddy-cop action thrillers tend to rely heavily on counterpoints to draw the two main characters – one fit, one fat (21 Jump Street), one full of action, one wisecracker (48 Hours), one nuts, one down-to-earth (Lethal Weapon). All three became lucrative franchises so you know the studios don't like to mess with the formula much. Midnight Runners doesn't re-invent the buddy-cop wheel, but tweaks it just a little, making the movie stand out like a bed of roses. It doesn't lean on counterpoints to build camaraderie. They may be opposites in certain ways, but it is the passion for doing what is right that unites them. The screen-time is devoted equally on both of them and no one tries to out- play the other. They are the perfect duo; they are one even though they are not the same. Their chemistry is undoubtedly inflatable and infectious, and they seem like they are having a blast.
Sometimes in my classes I get kids asking me dreaded questions like "What is the point of learning Calculus?" or "Am I going to use any of these stuff in life?". Midnight Runners addresses that in one pivotal scene that had me guffawing in laughter. I enjoyed the scenes of them using what they have learnt to crack the case. Writer-director Kim Joo Hwan even skewers the upper echelons of the police force and iterates the true purpose education itself in a noteworthy scene. How Kim deftly balances the dark crime with a light tone and ponderous moments is a magical act. It helps when you have such winsome characters. I think the best praise I can give it is that I sincerely hope there is a sequel in the works. Make it happen
. please.