RETROSPECT: "Apocalypse Now" Remembered

Steven Spielberg's Jaws. Werner Hertzog's Aguirre: The Wrath of God. Stanley Kubrick's The Shining. Ridley Scott's Blade Runner. James Cameron's The Abyss and Titanic. What do all of these films have in common? Two things: they've all suffered "production nightmares" behind the scenes, and yet have gone on to become acclaimed and celebrated films. 

Films, by definition, are the results of what is put into them and what is expressed through them by means of story and/or theme, for better or worse. Some films turn out to be great and/or memorable (as the aforementioned), in spite of these issues. Others, unfortunately, are a clear indication of what went wrong, whether by studio interference, cast and crew conflicts, or so forth.

How is it that the former have succeeded while the latter have failed? A better question: what does this say about filmmaking in general? Should a film be judged merely on its behind-the-scenes drama, or on the final product? Let's look briefly at another prime example: Francis Ford Coppola's 1979 war epic, Apocalypse Now. 

The 1979 theatrical release poster

"The horror!" 

Based on Joseph Conrad's esoteric novel "Heart of Darkness," an American soldier (Martin Sheen) is tasked with finding and assassinating a rogue American colonel (Marlon Brando), all while going through the horrors and traumas of the Vietnam war. 

Filmed in 1976, the production troubles of Apocalypse Now were so great, that a documentary feature was made in 1991, titled Hearts of Darkness: A Filmmaker's Apocalypse. Sheen suffered a heart attack. Brando arrived on set unprepared and overweight. Actor Dennis Hopper had an alcohol and cocaine addiction (although he would come clean years later). A hurricane destroyed the film's sets, delaying and increasing production from six weeks to sixteen months. The budget skyrocketed, that Coppola (who lost 100 lbs, and even contemplated suicide, in the process) mortgaged his home and his Napa Valley winery to finish the film. Coppola then spent the next three years editing the film. 

The film stands as (and remains) a poetic yet psychological fever dream, and a haunting, harsh, and maddening examination of the horrors and traumas of war (including dehumanization from it). It still holds many iconic moments, from the napalm bombing set to Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries" (complete with Robert DuVall's signature "I love the smell of napalm in the morning") to Brando's commanding and haunting presence. Coppola declared at the 1979 Cannes Film Festival (where the film first premiered, and eventually won the prestigious Palme d'Or award), "[This] film is not about Vietnam. It is Vietnam." 

The 2001 "Redux" poster

The 2019 "Final Cut" poster

A "redux" edition was released in 2001, with almost an hour of additional footage, including new scenes at a French base in Vietnam and some (unnecessarily) featuring Playboy playmates from the USO sequence, as well as expanded scenes with Duvall and Brando, respectfully. This version proved "too long" for many critics and viewers.

Recently, Coppola went back and reassembled the film into a new "final cut" in celebration of the film's 40th anniversary. Just as Ridley Scott declared with Blade Runner's 2007 "final cut," Coppola considers this version of Apocalypse Now to be the definitive version. Either way, it remains, perhaps, the most surreal and psychological (and most maddening) take on war ever made for film, with Stanley Kubrick's Full Metal Jacket from 1987 coming close behind. (There's also Terrence Malick's more meditative The Thin Red Line from 1998 to consider.) 

REVIEW: "Spider-Man: Far From Home" or, Avengers: Infinity Epilogue

Okay, we can all agree that the ending of Avengers: Infinity War emotionally wrecked us for almost a year. Yet, despite some cinematic "therapy" (and much-needed cheers) from subsequent Marvel films Ant-Man and the Wasp, Captain Marvel, and of course the record-breaking Avengers: Endgame, this writer couldn't help wondering, prior to Endgame's teaser trailer release, "Will Spider-Man's next MCU adventure (the globe-trotting sequel, Far From Home) take place before Infinity War or after Endgame?"

It's no secret by now that the resulted film, which finds Peter Parker (a terrific Tom Holland)'s overseas vacation with his classmates hijacked by supposedly-otherworldly forces, turned out to be the latter.

[WRITER'S NOTE: If you haven't seen Avengers: Endgame, this review contains minor SPOILERS from that film and this one. I highly recommend seeing that film before seeing Far From Home. In fact, just go and watch both films before reading this review.]

"You do not ghost Nick Fury!"

A full-circle epilogue of sorts to the first three phases of the Marvel Cinematic Universe (now officially known as the "Infinity Saga), Peter Parker and millions of others have reappeared from a "re-Snap" by the Avengers, as well as the impact of the loss of a mentor on Peter's part. Not to mention a five year gap where half the world's population has been absent and hasn't aged (while everyone else has), and are dealing with sudden, quick changes. 

A European trip that starts out (at least for Peter) as a way to get away from recent events, turns into an international espionage adventure of current world events (hence the film's title), including the supposed opening of a "multiverse" and the arrival of Mysterio (who, in the comics, is one of Spider-Man's greatest adversaries, but is portrayed here as an alternate ally). Peter, for his part, doesn't want to carry the burden of the Avengers' legacy ("Who's the next Iron Man?") and wrestles between the world's needs and his own wants. He obviously wants to just be a "friendly neighborhood" hero, and have a normal teenage life on this trip, and doubts taking up hero responsibility because of the loss of a friend and mentor.

Tom Holland and Jake Gyllenhall

The first half of Far From Home (at least on first viewing) seems standard issue coming-of-age superhero story, and doesn't feel very cinematic. The second half, however, gets better, more exciting and unpredictable (like Mysterio himself), with unexpected twists and directions far more interesting than the trailers suggest. (The "Elemental" monsters, for one, initially resemble villains from Spidey's rouge's gallery, for those familiar with the comics.)

"These days, people will believe anything."

They definitely got Mysterio's look right (ditto Peter's black stealth suit and upgraded red-and-blue leotard), as well as the perfect actor to play him. Jake Gyllenhall, after all, is no stranger to complex characters, considering his impressive and versatile resume which includes roles from Nightcrawler, Southpaw, and of course Donnie Darko. The filmmakers definitely pull the wool over our eyes, as far as the story goes, what with surprising themes of false mentorship and deception.

And Marvel's underappreciated specialty (and emphasis) on character relationships between Peter and others that give the story solidity, whether it's with Aunt May (Marisa Tomei), Happy Hogan (Jon Favreau), Nick Fury (the always commanding Samuel L. Jackson), his best friend Ned (Jacob Batalon, hysterical) or his secret crush MJ (the multi-talented Zendaya). In fact, the chemistry among Holland, Zendaya, and Batalon, in terms of teenage romance, quirks, and comedy, is thoroughly genuine and believable, as are scenes between Holland and Gyllenhall.

Zendaya and Tom Holland

"What are you going to do now?"

If Endgame was the end of one saga for Marvel, then Far From Home is the beginning of another one. And it's an entertaining roller coaster at that. As for what's next for the MCU? For one thing, hints of an aforementioned "multiverse" could be seen later in Phase Four with a Doctor Strange sequel, one of many MCU films and Disney+ series that Marvel head-honcho Kevin Feige announced at this year's San Diego Comic Con.

As Nick Fury says in Far From Home, "Be ready for anything."

RETROSPECT: "The Matrix" Revisited

"What is the Matrix?" 

I'll never forget seeing the first ads for The Matrix in 1999. It's one of the first films I can recall that made people go, "What is this?" Its confusing-yet-intriguing plot (which seemed to take place in a virtual world) couldn't even be described, save for some seriously cool images of slick wardrobes, sunglasses, and visual effects. Oh, and Keanu Reeves (forever immortalized) leaning back and dodging bullets in slow-motion while the camera seems to be moving at normal speed. 

This latter visual effect (known as "bullet time") has become the film's most iconic (and, in subsequent years, most imitated or parodied) image. And nothing like it had ever been seen on-screen before or since. 

The same for the film's revolutionary editing by Zach Staenberg (which makes the story convoluted and even weird on first viewing, yet bold and original nonetheless). Ditto the Wachowski's direction and script, which combines elements of science-fiction, Eastern and/or Greek philosophy and spirituality, Biblical themes, dystopic imagery (with black and green color palettes), Alice in Wonderland, The Wizard of Oz, martial arts, anime (a la Akira or Ghost in the Shell), Asian cinema, manga, comic books, video game action, a precursor to virtual reality, and most certainly cyberpunk. (That is, "a genre of science fiction set in a lawless subculture of an oppressive society dominated by computer technology.") I know of no other film from the 90s (besides Pulp Fiction) that qualifies as pastiche, yet stands as its own original thing.

"Bullet time" has revolutionized visual effects in movies since 1999

Star Wars: The Phantom Menace may have been the most financially successful sci-fi (and event) movie of 1999, but it's arguably (perhaps, agreeably) clear that The Matrix was the most influential and game-changing sci-fi film in comparison. 

And its visual effects, sound design, cinematography, and fight choreography (courtesy Woo-Ping Yuen, who worked on Ang Lee's Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and Quentin Tarantino's Kill Bill in subsequent years) are much more visceral on the big screen. 

Some themes and thematic elements (e.g., "the chosen hero to save mankind," technology turning on the world) may not hold up as well today. But the elements that do, regarding the difference between fantasy and reality, are the most astounding and thought-provoking, more specifically the themes of what we choose to believe or want to believe (hence, the blue and red pills), as well as what is and/or what we allow to be, including what we have allowed technology to do. Just as these themes or ideas are reflected in various characters as the fearless Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss), the mysterious and philosophizing Morpheus (Laurence Fishburne), the traitorous Cypher (Joe Pantoliano), who has a complex perspective on both "worlds"; the sentinel virus known as Agent Smith (Hugo Weaving, who has a complex and dimensional moment on-screen with Fishburne), it's the hero's journey from the perspective of Neo (Reeves), an office worker by day and computer hacker by night, that also helps ground the story as he (and audiences) discover the difference between the life he's known and the "real" world outside it, as well as his calling in it. 

At the same time, there seems to be a double-edged sword to some of these themes, ideas and/or worldviews. Certain aforementioned characters may have been "set free" from the virtual reality they've been enslaved to (by witnessing the dark, bleak, and nightmarish reality controlled by machines). Yet they appear back in there as rogues like they're still part of it (and with slick style). In other words, in the real world, things are very dystopic and almost simple; in the Matrix, they can be and do anything ("There is no spoon"), to the point of even controlling aspects of their own "reality." They can even have various knowledge programs implanted into their subconscious ("I know kung fu"). 

The red pill or the blue pill?

Then there's the film's supposed glorification of violence (the main reason for the R-rating), particularly in its infamous hallway battle and last half-hour (guns and bullets galore), as well as its disturbing soundtrack, which features such artists as Rage Against the Machine, and shock rockers Marilyn Manson and Rob Zombie. 

Set during the end of the 20th Century, the film's release stands alongside other films dealing with the revolt of human technology, specifically James Cameron's first two Terminator films and Ridley Scott's Blade Runner. It even inadvertently set the stage for other sci-fi action/thrillers, like Steven Spielberg's A.I.: Artificial Intelligence (released in 2001, like the iconic Stanley Kubrick film before it) and Minority Report (2002), as well as two back-to-back Matrix sequels (2003's less-received Reloaded and Revolutions) and several animated shorts (titled The Animatrix collectively). A fourth installment is officially in the works, likely due to Keanu Reeves' stellar year in 2019. 

We haven't come as far with technology these days as letting giant robots or machines rule over us. (I hope that that never is the case.) The same can't be said, though, for various case studies of phone usage and screen time, especially among young adults and kids these days. (WALL*E arguably got that aspect right.)

Who says art doesn't reflect reality? "Woah," indeed. 

REVIEW: "The Farewell" (Despite Much Fibbing) Makes A Genuine Cultural and Generational Connection

The impending death of a family member is a sad and melancholy subject. It can also be a tiring and cliched plotline for a film, as we've learned from countless films before. What's unique about writer-director Lulu Wang's Sundance-favorite feature, The Farewell, is that it's "based on an actual lie."

The story follows a Chinese family who hides the truth from the matriarch that she has terminal cancer. "It's not the cancer that kills them," claims one family member, "It's the fear." As an excuse, they arrange a wedding to gather extended family and friends to see her one last time. One family member, struggling artist Billi, has a special relationship with her "nai nai" (Chinese for "grandmother"), even as she struggles to hide her real emotions and wrestles with Eastern family complexities and dramas (i.e., a sense of pride and honor, dependence vs. independence) very different from the Western world she grew up in. 

Despite all the fibbing involved, Wang nevertheless paints a portrait of cultural relevance and reverence rarely seen on screen. One could argue that this film even exists as a bridge between said cultures and generations, including a past that has long gone by and a contemplative present and future. It speaks to the universal theme of remembering who we are, where we came from, what we stand for, and what lies ahead.

Yes, the film is melancholy at times, but it's never sappy or mediocre. One scene in a hospital, for instance, remarkably goes from serious to subtly humorous. And that subtle shift from melancholy to comedic is peppered throughout the film as well.

Speaking of humor, comedian-rapper-actress Awkwafina (who broke out last year in Oceans 8 and Crazy Rich Asians) gives an incredible dramatic turn as Billi, whose relationship with her grandmother is loving and genuine, sincere and humorous, even as Billi struggles with her own feelings of rejection, loneliness, and an uncertain future. Meanwhile, Nai Nai (played by Shuzhen Zhao, in one of the year's best performances), despite not knowing what's really going on, is clearly a very spirited woman, exemplifying familial love that endures. Like Nai Nai, The Farewell is an incredible, beautiful film. One of the year's best. 

(Left to right) Awkwafina and Shuzhen Zhao in The Farewell 

REVIEW: "The Last Black Man In San Francisco"

In the category of "Most Striking Film Image" of 2019, here it is: two young African-American men (who've been best friends since childhood) skateboard through the streets of San Francisco, as various citizens go about their lives. The pace is in slow-motion, but everything we need to know about the social, economical, and ethical situations is summed up in these characters, especially since they look directly at the camera as these men pass them by.

A favorite at the 2019 Sundance Film Festival, The Last Black Man in San Francisco centers on these two friends (caretaker Jimmy and writer/artist Montgomery), the communities they grew up in (most of which are going through economical and social hardships), and particularly the home Jimmy's grandfather used to live in.

Jimmy states that his grandfather was "the first black man in San Francisco," and that he (Jimmy) is the "last" (hence the reason Jimmy is the film's main character, and the reason for the title). He spends a lot of time trying to fix up the house, even though it technically belongs to another couple on the brink of divorce, and despite the objections of other friends or family, including an old friend who lives in his car, and gang members who hang out on the street corner by Montgomery's place, hurling profane and racist insults at each other. (One man named Kofi seems to start making a change of character, however.)

The trailers suggest this film is lighthearted and sentimental to a fault. The final result is far from it. (Well, mostly, despite one possible cheesy moment.) First-time director Joe Talbot (who co-wrote the screenplay with Rob Richert and lead actor Jimmie Fails) made the smart choice in using orchestral, and sometimes ethereal, music in the score by Emile Mosseri (possibly a reflection of the current influence of filmmaker Barry Jenkins). There's even an amazing rendition of "If You're Going to San Francisco," which give the story a more universal appeal.

The theme of remembering (or confusing) where we come from and keeping the past alive is profound, on one hand. On the other hand, it shows how much Jimmy has allowed his identity to be based on the house, and how he seems to be living in an ideal fantasy, determining what he chooses to love or hate and what is true and not true. Monty expresses many of these experiences through his art, including playwriting. The result, like that aforementioned striking image, is powerful and compelling. 

(Left to right): Jonathan Majors and Jimmie Fails
in The Last Black Man In San Francisco

RETROSPECT: "The Man With A Movie Camera": A Symphony of Moving Pictures and True Cinematic Expression

Of all of our inventions for mass communication, 

pictures still speak the most universally understood language. 

~Walt Disney

In the history of cinema, particularly since the end of the silent film era, there have arguably been only a few films largely (if not entirely) made with reliance on the use of imagery and sound/music alone. These include Walt Disney's Fantasia (1940), Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), and Terrence Malick's The Tree of Life (2011), to name just a few.

Back in the 1920s, a group of Soviet filmmakers, known as "Kinoks," broke every preconceived rule of film, even in its relative infancy then, and invented (perhaps pioneered) a lot of the techniques that have become commonplace for several filmmakers over the last 90 years. One of these filmmakers, David Kaufman (who went by the name Dziga Vertov, meaning "spinning top"), made a series of features using many of these techniques to examine the status and progress of the Soviet Union throughout the decade, following the Russian Revolution of the early 1900s. He also used these techniques to challenge the status quo of "staged" cinema. These features included 1931's Enthusiasm: Symphony of the Donbass, 1924's Kino-Eye, and 1929's now-highly-revered The Man With A Movie Camera.

Of the many films I recall studying and discussing in the two film courses I took in college years ago, this latter, highly-experimental feature is one of the few that stuck with me the most. At 67 minutes in length and presented in six reels, this collective work of truly-ahead-of-its-time techniques makes the case in presenting cinema as its own unique language and form of communication and expression, in ways that theater and literature cannot express. (I highly recommend this short but fascinating video essay for more insight.)

In fact, there's no specific plot or scenario, nor are there inter-titles or professional actors. Just a day in the life of a city of regular, ordinary, working-class people (shot over the course of three years) in the wake of the Russian Revolution, all "from the excerpt of the diary of a cameraman." Some of these citizens include factory workers, machinists, cobblers, barbers, doctors, nurses, married couples, divorcing couples, children, musicians, and athletes. Themes range from economics to class, illness, injury, death, birth (briefly shown, ditto some images of nudity, but not sexual or gratuitous), life, and even the mundane.

This may be documentary footage, but what's revolutionary (and ultimately universal) here is the way it is edited together and shown for the audience. The camera, by its very nature, is a device that acts not only for the cameraman (perhaps the one central figure here), but also for the audience, in witnessing objective imagery, no matter which angle or area it's shot from. The way that that footage is put together, on the other hand, is what makes it subjective, and therefore, cinematic. Many of the aforementioned techniques used here include slow-motion, fast-motion, reverse-motion, dissolves, quick jump cuts (late film critic Roger Ebert calculated the average shot length at 2.3 seconds), split-screen, stop-motion, and even a sense of fourth wall breaking.

I find it fascinating and amusing that one segment in the film shows the role of the editor, reviewing and reassembling film strips, and even freeze-framing certain shots of some of the aforementioned citizens. Even more fascinating is how this fourth wall notion plays at the feature's prologue. We're shown the inside of a movie theater. The projectionist gets ready, as does the orchestra (silent films had accompanied music playing in the movie houses they were shown in back in the day). The audience comes in. The house lights go out. The feature begins. The audience represents us, viewing something new. The screen (and therefore the camera eye and cameraman) represents what we see (hence, the "kino-eye," as pictures above), and the film itself represents the subjective experience.

This is truly one of the most influential films I have ever seen, and most certainly remains a benchmark in the history of motion pictures. All of the above elements combined have made it an enduring and universal standout of the silent film era and the post-silent era, even after 90 years. It's bold, original, dynamic, rhythmic, and incredibly daring. It's no wonder then that Sight and Sound named it the greatest documentary feature of all time, as well as the eighth greatest film of all time. The Man With A Movie Camera is a symphony of moving pictures and true cinematic expression. 

REVIEW: "Stranger Things 3" Returns to Genuine Scares and Character-Driven Plots, But More Content Issues Hinder the Latest Adventure

A group of kids, a girl with telekinetic abilities, a police chief, a worried mother, and a few high school teenagers investigating mysterious occurrences in their small Indiana town. Such are the elements that define Netflix's critically- and commercially-acclaimed nostalgia series Stranger Things. The brainchild of creators Matt & Ross Duffer was a surprise sensation when its first season premiered back in 2016. Its homage to 1980s sci-fi, horror and pop culture remains entertaining and gripping.

Season 2 (from 2017) was just as cliffhanging and exciting, especially with those Ghostbusters costumes, giant Mind Flayers from a place called the Upside Down, and "justice for Barb" (referring to a fan-favorite character from the first season). But the season finale felt like a letdown, going a bit standard issue as well as a bit of a rush. In fact, most of the season felt overwhelmed with pop culture references, drawing attention to themselves a little more than they needed to.

This current third season, to its credit, gets back to character- and ensemble-driven action and genuine stakes, all while proving the darkest and most violent (and even troubling) season. And in terms of its intensity, this season doesn't play it safe--and that's both an advantage and a disadvantage.

"One Summer Can Change Everything"

Set during the summer of 1985 around the 4th of July (the same year that saw the short-lived release of "New Coke" soft drink), the town of Hawkins, Indiana, is in transition, what with the opening of the new Starcourt Mall, but much to the dismay of small-business employees and citizens in economic and property turmoil.

(left to right) Maya Hawke, Joe Keery, and Gaten Matarazzo 

Meanwhile, the main kids (Mike, Lucas, Dustin, Will, and Max) have become teenagers, while their parents or adult figures are dealing with various other changes in their community. Chief Jim Hopper (showing off a Tom Selleck mustache and pudgy dad bod) is having difficulty with teenage growth and hormones between Mike and Eleven, while also expressing concern for Will's mom, Joyce, as well as her safety and current home situation. Eleven starts learning more about the disadvantages of dating, as well as female independence when she starts hanging out with Lucas's girlfriend Max. Will is having difficulty moving on from childhood ("We're not kids anymore," Mike tells him), while still carrying some traumatic effects from his previous time in the Upside Down.

Former boyfriend and girlfriend Nancy and Steve each have new jobs, and each dealing with real-world and social issues: Nancy's at the local newspaper along with current boyfriend (and Will's brother) Jonathan, while the other employees are sexist and misogynistic, and Steve's at the ice cream parlor of the mall, all while struggling with popularity and developing a new relationship with co-worker, Robin, and continuing his unlikely friendship with Dustin, who's just returned from summer camp with the news of a "hotter than Phoebe Cates" girlfriend who may or may not exist. "Isn't it time to move on from popularity?" Dustin asks Steve. Even bad boy Billy (Max's older brother), while much more intimidating here, is given a more dimensional character arc, and a reason for why his character is the way he is.

Speaking of Billy, strange activity occurs once again in Hawkins. (As a series staple, how could it not?) This time, there's a power outage, magnets falling from refrigerators, a secret Russian organization (it's always the Russians, isn't it?), rats getting infested, various people disappearing or acting weird, and unlikely "heroes" deciphering an intercepted Russian code. (Steve, Robin, Dustin, and Lucas's kid sister Erica practically steal the show in this latter regard.)

There's also the return of the villainous Mind Flayer, who starts gathering an army by infecting various things (from rats to people, including Billy) and mutating them to disgusting effect a la body horror (think David Cronenberg's The Fly crossed with John Carpenter's The Thing), supposedly against Eleven, the only person who can stop it.

"Commence Operation Child Endangerment"

If Season 1 was a Steven Spielberg-meets-Stephen King homage, and Season 2 was arguably a Ghostbusters-meets-Gremlins affair, this third season is like an unseen collaboration between Carpenter and Cronenberg. One episode is even titled, "The Mall Rats," perhaps recalling Kevin Smith's cult classic from 1995 (referenced in this year's Captain Marvel as well).

If the season has a few weaknesses, they are as follows. First and foremost, many viewers have criticized the arc of Hopper's character, who comes across as over-the-top and aggressive many times, despite his "heart-to-heart" speech he writes. (His arc from Season 1 remains his best.) There's also the subplots involving Russian scientists (a little ridiculous) and a Terminator-like assassin (one-dimensional), as well as the role of the Hawkins mayor in terms of small-town American capitalism. There's also that very brief subplot between Mike's mom & Billy, leftover from the end of Season 2 (which thankfully doesn't go as far as it could've, but still).

Plus, the aforementioned violence results in more graphic (and even shocking) imagery than the first two seasons put together. And the surprising amount of harsh language (much spoken by our kid heroes) is very disappointing and unnecessary. Some viewers may also be surprised by a character who subtly comes out of the closet (supposedly to keep with current times and pop culture embracing such topics).

Those elements notwithstanding, this third season wraps up brilliantly and poignantly. (At least before the end credits roll.) There is reportedly a fourth season underway. So, with that being said, here's hoping a few missed opportunities and a new and maturing adventure (with some restraint, please!) will carry on what has otherwise been a gripping, nostalgic, and brilliantly-written and -acted series.

See you on the other side, nerds. ~Erica