Red Right Blog |
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Rants, Rates, Slags, Slates. Manic-depressive posts from Red Wright-Hand. Because there are thousands of worthless blogs out there and who am I not to add to their number?
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Arts & Letters Daily
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Thursday, April 22, 2004
The 13th Philadelphia Film Festival concluded last night, and out of its "nearly 250 films from 43 countries" I managed to see exactly six, these being, in descending order of appreciation: Memories of Murder, Super Size Me, Control Room, A Tale of Two Sisters, Orwell Rolls in his Grave and The Other America. Memories of Murder offered long, airy takes suggesting Visconti with attention defi -- oops, that's a professional movie critic talking. In my unprofessional way, though, I hope Memories of Murder, a deserved smash hit in its native South Korea last year, gets US distribution; it scarcely goes astray in its depiction of "backwards" policemen attempting to catch a particularly cunning serial murderer; avoids exploitation at all times; manages to sustain sympathetic interest in its characters while dramatizing their deplorable faults; somehow adds gallows humor to the mix without spoiling the overall tone. Super Size Me and Control Room, both documentaries, will be in (some) American theaters very soon; the former uses boisterous Michael Moore-style techniques (with varied results) to get at the behemoth of McDonald's and its behemothization of human bodies, the latter gives you a fly-on-the-wall look at the "notorious" Arab-language al-Jazeera network as the Iraq War commenced in March 2003, including plenty of footage you will never see on American network TV. (Major flaw: we don't really learn much about al-Jazeera's origins and background, nor why a number of Arab governments have banned it.) A Tale of Two Sisters...hmmm, well, the terrific web site captures the movie's atmosphere pretty damn well, so log on, kill the lights, pump up the sound and get scared. Unfortunately, what we got onscreen looked great but devolved into yet another post-Sixth Sense mishegotcha (TM) [yes, I've trademarked that word, don't even think of using it yourself], which is a fool-the-audience-routine that doesn't make any sense, not to mention throws characterization out the window. The last two films: good intentions often pave the road to tedium. Orwell's been getting some "festival buzz" but is awfully repetitive, bumpy, and needs more work. And the director of The Other America, based on this and previous work of his I've seen, should be seeking a career in social work, not moviemaking. |
