‘Shopaholic’ is Fantastical Director P.J. Hogan’s Sympathetic Ode to the American Consumer

Ever since P.J. Hogan released his debut feature film, Muriel’s Wedding in 1994, he has made films sporadically, but the few films he has directed are full of his strikingly humane character studies told through Hogan’s fantastical narrative and visual style. Hogan’s latest film, Confessions of a Shopaholic (2009) contains all of the quirky characters and over-the-top farces that are Hogan’s trademarks and it’s these trademarks that lift Shopaholic above the usually unimaginative romantic comedy subgenre.

It’s no secret that I’m a P.J. Hogan fan. One characteristic of Australian director Hogan’s films that stands out the most is their feverish watchability: I could watch his films repeatedly and never get tired of them. I also enjoy putting the pieces that link Hogan’s films together and how he uses the similar parts (whether it is characters he’s used before or sentiments) in new ways to fit the story that he’s telling in each of his films. Despite seeing ads for Shopaholic hearing that it was along the lines of The Devil Wears Prada, Shopaholic fell under my radar. I wasn’t even aware that Hogan directed the film. I just recently watched Shopaholic with the knowledge that Hogan is very selective of which films he directs. I was also curious to see Hogan’s take on the modern romantic comedy subgenre. He’s directed romantic comedies before, the most famous one being My Best Friend’s Wedding, but that film was released in 1997 and it didn’t reek of the formulaic shlock that is contemporary romantic comedy. Best Friend’s is also more of a black comedy than a traditional romantic comedy. That’s where Shopaholic is different than Best Friend’s because it is more of a fluffy romantic comedy that shares similarities to the Jennifer Lopez vehicles and Kate Hudson comedies, yet maintains some of Hogan’s eccentricities.

Shopaholic is based on Sophia Kinsella’s series of novels featuring the titular character Rebecca Bloomwood. Rebecca is Hogan’s latest heroine who has to face the harsh realities of the world. Rebecca is portrayed by Australian actress Isla Fisher (who dons a nondescript, but convincing American accent for Shopaholic) (Wedding Crashers, Definitely, Maybe). Fisher’s redheaded beauty is striking to say the least, however she’s not beautiful in a sultry Rita Hayworth way, but pretty in a “turn the world on with her smile” Mary Tyler Moore way. Rebecca works as a staff writer at a lowly newspaper with her best friend and roommate. Rebecca dreams of working for high-end fashion magazine Alette run by Alette Naylor (played with regal iciness by Kristin Scott Thomas). Of course this sounds like the premise for The Devil Wears Prada, and although Shopholic is quite similar to Prada, the main character Rebecca is made to feel awkward and lowly, while Anne Hathaway’s main character in Prada seems destined to make her transformation into a show-stopping fashionista. Fisher portrays Rebecca in a way that conveys her compulsive shopping as a means to desperately fit in. Rebecca’s love interest is the Anderson Cooper-like Brit Luke Donovan (Hugh Dancy), who resembles the pompous Cooper all the way down to the socialite mother. Rebecca’s mishaps threaten her future with Luke and lead to her numerous humiliations. Rebecca is also a woman who has countless credit cards and is in debt up to her ears.

As a recent college graduate in search of a career job and success, I can relate to what Rebecca is experiencing. The real world is often a hard pill to swallow, especially when you don’t have money or beauty or money in Rebecca’s case. Money and beauty are not interchangeable—because money gives a person power even if they lack beauty—but money and beauty are intimately connected and work as a superpower when combined. Just as he did in his previous films, Hogan shows Rebecca’s fear of responsibility, which is integral to adulthood. Rebecca connects excessive consumerism with her childhood need to fit in and like Peter Pan, never really grew up; retail stores are Rebecca’s Neverland. (Hogan also helmed the 2003 live-action version Peter Pan). The fact that Hogan makes Rebecca the everyday girl who likes to shop obsessively in a suffering American economy shows once again that Hogan is very adept at injecting humanity into his films. Despite depicting Rebecca’s shopping addiction as a disease, Hogan also uses consumerism as a way to bring people together: everyone is not so different because people don’t have to purchase products to be “shopaholics” at heart. From the participants of Rebecca’s Shopaholics Anonymous group to the homeless lady who sings Harry Nilsson’s “Coconut” with her “shopping cart” in tow, everyone shares the human desire to consume attractive things. It’s the power of capitalism and capitalism is what the United States of America was built on.

Shopping is a form of escapism for Rebecca, which she admits and she often spends money on products she doesn’t need when she’s trying to avoid something that scares her. This is a childish tendency that is rooted in Rebecca’s need to feel worthy in a world that’s not so kind to those people without money. This childish tendency is a tendency that most people can relate to. Rebecca had an “unconditional love” for shopping: she never asked for the products she bought to love her back. These words mirror what Kathy Bates said in Hogan’s unconventional 2002 comedy, Unconditional Love. It’s another instance of there being a common thread linking Hogan’s films together.

Being what you are and what you want to be is the sentiment at work in Shopaholic. There’s a point in the film when someone asks “Who is the real Rebecca?” Rebecca wants to be a “rich girl” as her Gwen Stefani ringtone indicates, but she isn’t. She deals with her lack of cash flow by spending money she doesn’t have to fit the physical image of a rich girl clad in designer clothes. Hogan tackled this same topic of wanting to be what you aren’t in Muriel’s Wedding. Muriel wanted to be a beautiful, loved bride, but by attempting to achieve that goal, she wasn’t being herself and she instead lied to herself and others. Hogan’s heroines Julianne Potter from Best Friend’s, Muriel Heslop from Muriel’s and Rebecca Bloomwood from Shopaholic all lived lies and the only way to set them free was to admit the truth. Hogan makes sure his characters realize that even though they may feel “unloved, unnoticed” and “unwanted” (from Unconditional Love), pretending to be something they’re not is not the way to become loved, noticed and wanted. Hogan thinks that the world should accept their heroines as they are.

There are certain staples of Hogan’s films that are not at work in Shopaholic. As decent as Shopaholic is, if it contained more of the elements commonly found in P.J. Hogan’s films such as companionship and humiliation, Shopaholic would be a much stronger film. A strong sense of companionship is what’s missing from Shopaholic. Rebecca’s roommate and best friend Suze exists as only a prop; Suze could qualify as the “sidekick” requisite for a romantic comedy, but she barely fulfills that role. Companionship is such an integral part of Hogan’s films, namely Unconditional Love and Muriel’s Wedding; the natural need to share an experience with a fellow human. Shopaholic is a film that succeeds mostly because of great comic timing and kookiness on all the actors present, as well Hogan’s uniting of human through common interest a la Robert Altman. The unity displayed during the Shopaholic Anonymous meetings and the actual shopping scenes. Shopaholic makes crystal-clear that millions of people love to shop.

As he does in most of his films, Hogan includes pop culture references throughout Shopaholic. The male receptionist at the business building that houses companies including Alette magazine gives Rebecca some sound advice about reaching her goal of working for Alette by using a well-known pop culture reference commonly used to describe a person exploring an unknown land. The receptionist tells Rebecca that “Alette may be Emerald City, but Successful Saving may be your yellow brick road.” It’s a classic use of L. Frank Baum’s The Wizard of Oz metaphor. Hogan not only channels L. Frank Baum fairy tales in Shopaholic, but he also brings to mind animated Disney classics. The mannequins that Rebecca sees move and talk in the store windows are indicative of Hogan’s knack for the fantastical. Just as Disney animated films like, Beauty and the Beast are full of inanimate objects come-to-life, Hogan knows the effectiveness of giving life to inanimate objects. Instead of everything played straight, the enlivened mannequins add a sense of surrealism that lends itself well to children and adults alike. Cinderella without the talking mice and seamstress birds would just be a woman living amongst rodents and birds swatting around her head like in Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds, so the talking mannequins give an edge to Shopaholic over other romantic comedies. It’s no coincidence that Shopaholic was produced by Disney-owned Touchstone Pictures.

Confessions of a Shopaholic is a romantic comedy and some might call it fluff, but it’s one of the more entertaining romantic comedies. The film is as imaginative as the romantic comedy category allows. If you’re a fan of P.J. Hogan’s previous films, you’ll find something to love about Shopaholic even if you’re not a fan of romantic comedies.

“My Best Friend’s Wedding” Uses Pop Culture to Create one of the Most Genuine Romantic Comedies You’ll Ever See

Julia Roberts in a tearful scene from "My Best Friend's Wedding"

The very musical and theatrical comedy, My Best Friend’s Wedding is a film about a woman who in her quest to win her prize (her male best friend and former lover), she realizes that her masculine personality needs to be feminized, but her naturally aggressive personality never fades. This tomboyish woman’s quest is played out amidst infectious, side-splitting camp that never goes over the top, as well as director P.J. Hogan’s true-to-life mean-spiritedness that has become his trademark.

I recently bought the Best Friend’s DVD and I’ve just about worn it out. Whenever I see Best Friend’s I feel a rush of emotions, from laughter to sadness, but whatever the emotion may be, all of the emotions are undeniably human. Hogan is keen at tapping into the broad parts of the human psyche as well as the minutiae. I’m sure that it’s the actors’ talent that accounts for the genuineness of Best Friend’s, but I also think that Hogan knows how to bring out honest performances from the actors he works with, so that the characters are more than just vessels to speak dialogue and are recognizably humans.

Australian film director P.J. Hogan is somewhat of an auteur because his personality spills out into his films. Hogan consistently uses popular songs and pop culture references exceptionally well to strengthen the meaning of his films. Hogan’s last film prior to Best Friend’s is 1994’s Muriel’s Wedding and the film was what inspired Best Friend’s star Julia Roberts to hire Hogan as the director of Best Friend’s. Although Muriel’s and Best Friend’s are two noticeably different films—the former inspires sympathy from the audience, while the latter inspires against sympathy—both film’s are full of well-known songs that convey the ethos of each film. Regardless of if the well-known songs are used to inspire celebration, fun or sadness, the songs ultimately endear the audience by somehow striking an emotional chord with the audience. In Muriel’s Hogan used the music of Abba (which was glossy and happy-go-lucky on the surface, but underneath the gloss was a bitter sweetness) to show the main character Muriel’s desire to rise above a dismal, humiliating world to become glamorous and actually happy. In Best Friend’s Hogan uses the music of the1960s and 1970s—that include Dionne Warwick—to summon a feeling of the past. That’s another common element of Hogan’s films; he has characters from a modern era identify with music from a past era, which can be defined as nostalgia. Ultimately, nostalgia is what drives Julia Robert’s tomboy in Best Friend’s to want to steal her best friend’s fiancé.

Released in the summer of 1997, Best Friend’s was advertised as a romantic comedy that boasted the California-wide smile of Julia Roberts, as well as her explosive laugh, but instead of showing the America’s sweetheart side of Roberts that’s shown in films like Pretty Woman and Steel Magnolias, Best Friend’s showed a different side of Roberts that was surprisingly convincing. Roberts does not play the protagonist of Best Friend’s, but more the antagonist. Throughout the film, Roberts’ character does one thing to inspire sympathy, but then does something else to counteract the sympathetic moment; it’s a constant tennis match between acts of sympathy and acts of animosity.

Best Friend’s is the story of a 27-year-old New York City food critic named Julianne Potter who finds out immediately that her former lover and best friend of 9 years Michael O’Neal (Delmot Mulroney whose curled lips have a Rock Hudson quality to them) is engaged to be married, and will be starting the wedding preparation weekend in less than 24 hours. Julianne’s mission blasts off into action immediately. She must stop her best friend from getting married and then steal his heart from the blond heiress Kimmy (Cameron Diaz)

Roberts’ Julianne is undeniably a tomboy going through Best Friend’s primarily wearing pants and walking with the gait of a gangly Scout from To Kill A Mockingbird. The one glamorous aspect of Julianne is her curly Rita Hayworth-like auburn hair. Julianne’s hair is “big” as Kimmy makes note of in Best Friend’s, and at points in the film Julianne’s big hair gets so voluminous that she resembles a member of a hair-metal band.

In this day and age, romantic comedies are formulaic at best and they’re defined as being the same movie over and over again, except with different character names and sometimes different actors (which is often not always the case). The standard romantic comedy consists of two people eventually falling in love each other after obstacles keep them from realizing their love or they spend the majority of the film bickering—think of the Doris Day and Rock Hudson movies from the 1960s. Oh yes, and add adorable pets like dogs and cats, as well as characters that play the sidekicks (usually female) to the main characters, as well as popular soft-rock music. Best Friend’s does involve people falling in love with each other and has a sidekick and is full of popular music, but the film is a warped, gonzo version of the standard romantic comedy, which means that Best Friend’s is by no means a standard romantic comedy. Rupert Everett plays the sidekick George, who is Julianne’s editor and second best friend who acts as Julianne’s voice of reason. Hogan himself compared George to "Pinocchio"’s Jiminy Cricket who was wise and acted as a conscience and was sympathetic, but was also blunt in the advice he gave. George is just that, blunt, and also quite theatrical.

The theatricality of George is a character that embodies the campy and sing-songy entertainment of Best Friend’s. No other character in the film represents the spirit of Best Friend’s main spirit. Hogan’s dreamy sequences that come across as scenes from old animated Disney movies come-to-life are so hypnotic, they’re often magical. There’s a scene in the film when George tells a fictional, but fanciful tale of how he and Julianne met at a mental hospital where there was a man who thought he was Dionne Warwick and started singing Dionne Warwick’s classic 1967 hit, “Say A Little Prayer,” which sets into a motion a musical scene that mesmerizes the characters, as well as the audience. The physical appearance of Diaz’s Kimmy represents the nostalgia of Best Friend’s by being a throwback to the zaniness of Doris Day. Kimmy has the hairstyle of a woman from the 1950s to the early 1960s and she has this old-fashioned essence to her. Kimmy’s shrill hysteria and trusting nature is child-like and naïve, but Kimmy is as Julianne puts it, “endearing.” Kimmy has a softness and innocence that Julianne obviously lacks, it’s clear to see that Julianne missed out on her chance to be Michael’s girl even though she wishes she could go back in time. This is a situation that most humans can relate to: a person wishing they could right their wrongs and bring the knowledge that they learned in the future with them back to the past with intentions of using it to change history. Best Friend’s is essentially Julianne’s journey through denial and her inability to let go of the past; her inability to let go prevents her from focusing on herself and how to make herself a better person.

My Best Friend’s Wedding is a classic, at least for me, because it’s a film that can be watched repeatedly without wear. P.J. Hogan’s direction is like flesh and blood, while being of dreamy pastel colors that look like they came out of Glinda the Good Witch’s bubble. After watching My Best Friend’s Wedding, it would be highly unlikely that the film didn’t strike an emotional chord within the viewer. My Best Friend’s Wedding is a film that truly gets what human nature is all about.

“Clueless” Reveals the Innocence of Teens Hidden Behind a Façade of Designer Clothes and Cell Phones

Alicia Silverstone in a scene from Clueless

By Christopher Cole

1995’s Clueless is definitely a comedy of manners if there ever was one where what you say and how you act makes or breaks you. Although director Amy Heckerling (Fast Times at Ridgemont High) loosely based Clueless on Jane Austen’s 1815 novel, Emma about a spoiled rich girl who is naively snobbish, but watching Alicia Silverstone star as the film’s heroine, Audrey Hepburn’s portrayal of Breakfast at Tiffany’s heroine Holly Golightly comes to mind because both heroines are “real phonies” who have to realize the errors of their superficial ways in order to find true happiness.

I didn’t watch Clueless until 1996, a year after its release. At this time, I was a fifth grader who enjoyed watching the MTV Video Music Awards on a Thursday night and then talking about it with my classmates the day after at school. I was a pop culture junkie at 10 years old. It was also in fifth grade when I rented Clueless accompanied by pizza and I was enraptured by Clueless. The crayon box colors of the film and the instantly catchy vernacular was all I needed to be rendered “clueless.”

Clueless is the story of a high school teen queen named Cher Horowitz who has sun-kissed hair and a sun-kissed view of life. The type of sun doing the kissing is of the California variety in Beverly Hills: the land of rich teenagers who carry themselves with an air of self-importance. The film first introduces Cher as a bubbly clotheshorse who good-naturedly manipulates her way through life. She shops religiously and plays the role of matchmaker for fun. The second act is when her matchmaking stops working and starts backfiring on her. This is when Cher’s way-of-life starts to crack. Quickly, all the cards of her House of Cher start to collapse leaving Cher without her happy-go-lucky persona. Her wide-eyed look of naiveté transforms into a squinting, frowning on-the-verge of tears look. The third act is when Cher decides to stop letting her image-ruled life be empty and start realizing that in order to fill up her life, she has to grow up and not let her life be ruled by society’s haves and have-nots. Clueless is a teen comedy and naturally it appeals to teens (and apparently 10-year-old boys), but unlike its angsty teen movie counterparts, Clueless is a film that a family could watch together, albeit some teen drug use and sexual references, the drug use and occasional sexual references seem to only exist in Clueless because it’s requisite for a teen film. Clueless is rated PG-13, so it can’t be that racy.

The teens of Clueless aren’t wincingly mean the way most teens are depicted in films, which is some sugar coating to match the candy colors of the film. Even when insults are distributed, they’re only meant for comedic value and aren’t taken too personally by any of the characters. Clueless follows in the footsteps of cult classic teen comedies, Heathers (1989 which spawned countless imitators) and Valley Girl (1983 which Clueless seems the most similar in terms of subject, tone, dialogue and visuals) by having teens speak their own language. The famous phrase from Clueless, “As if!” is still used today—that’s a testament to the film’s impact.

Clueless is by no means a dramatic film full of plot twists or particularly interesting characters, but it’s a fun film that works as a humorous slice of Southern California life. Of course, there is a plot, but it’s a plot that is as “carefree” as the SoCal (Southern California) lifestyle. The plot consists of Cher’s coming-of-age that unfolds in a series of scenes that lampoon the 1990s rich kid: skaters, fashionistas and playas, with the bottom-line being that all these rich kids are poseurs who all are just kids underneath their facades. Like any adolescent with money, these Beverly Hills teens try their hardest to act like adults.

One of the interesting things about Clueless is that it shows Cher as more of an observer and not a do’er. Her former stepbrother Josh (Paul Rudd) was correct when he told Cher that the only direction she has in life is “towards the mall.” Cher claims she wants to be “5’10 like [supermodel] Cindy Crawford,” but she doesn’t do anything to move towards becoming a model. Cher lives in the land of models and actresses, which is Los Angeles. To be fair, Cher is just like most teens because despite her confident exterior and designer clothes, she is still searching for an identity. Cher’s life is essentially empty, so she searches for things to fill her life and keep her occupied. The mistaking of image for identity is one of the main concerns of Clueless, which is how Cher identifies herself as a pretty and stylish person, but she doesn’t have an identity besides that. Her self-image and identity is limited. There are constant examples of Cher’s obsession with the way she looks or the face she presents to the world in Clueless. One instance is when first arriving at a party, Cher tells her new creation Tai (Brittany Murphy) that in order to attract the guy she wants she should act really “popular” like she knows everybody. Another instance is when preparing for her driver’s test Cher is upset that she can’t find her “most responsible-looking ensemble.” In the world of Cher, there is an outfit to match every situation in life.

Like most films set in Beverly Hills, Clueless is shot so beautifully that it’s one of the best travel ads for Southern California that’s not a travel ad. As expected, there are the trademark palm trees everywhere. The houses are basically McMansions that have a sweeping presence on the screen. Cher’s best friend Dionne (Stacey Dash) lives in a majestic Tudor home that looks as if royalty should live there.

To keep with the theme of being hip, the soundtrack of Clueless is a youthful collection of rock, pop, indie and rap/hip-hop. Although using a contemporary soundtrack, Clueless features covers of classic songs like The Muffs’ grungy cover of Kim Wilde’s 80s hit “Kids in America,” a cover of David Bowie’s “All the Young Dudes,” as well as an actual song performed by David Bowie called “Fashion,” which is at the beginning of Clueless.

At the time of Clueless’ release, Silverstone was known for her racy performances in a couple of Aerosmith music videos. She also was known for playing a murderous Lolita-type vixen in the film, The Crush (1993). Clueless was a light-hearted departure for Silverstone and comic relief for her career. As Cher, Silverstone comes across to the audience as a close friend, a sister or a girlfriend. Silverstone’s distinctive voice endears her to the audience because there’s a tone in her voice that conveys her good intentions. As far as starlets go, Silverstone’s performance as Cher is less vixen and more a loveable sweetheart along the lines of Audrey Hepburn as Holly Golightly or Sally Field than anything else.

Clueless is a concise film at only 97 minutes. The scenes fly by as the viewer watches with familiarity and enjoyment. There are numerous memorable scenes and that’s why Clueless has stood the test of time: it’s original, it’s a crowd-pleaser and it’s a genuinely funny, light-hearted take on the often angst-ridden topic of the teenage experience.

2nd Trailer for "Inglourious Basterds" Comes to Life

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dOMKloOEKcU

The second trailer for Quentin Tarantino’s Inglourious Basterds is considerably longer and thankfully because the second trailer reveals a lot more of the film’s plot, which better connects the viewer to the film. The first trailer seemed more like a teaser than a full-on trailer. This trailer is decidedly a lighter and more comedic representation of Inglourious Basterds compared to the darker, less eventful first trailer that showed a dirt-covered girl running (presumably for her life) and Eli Roth smiling like a mad man. The first trailer channeled Full Metal Jacket mainly because it was so cold and dark.

The film’s taglines jolt across the spatters of blood making it clear that blood will be shed in Inglourious Basterds, just in case the audience couldn’t already tell from the interspersed scenes of a bartender getting shot up in slow motion—Tarantino again using choreographed violence—and a man about to get whacked in the head with a baseball bat.

Tarantino splices scenes of people talking about a plot point (like Eli Roth’s staff officer to a fellow Basterd) and the actual plot point occurring followed by two different people talking about the same plot point (like Brad Pitt’s lieutenant to Diane Kruger’s double agent), but the kicker is all of these scenes may have nothing to do with each other. Leave it to Tarantino to put things in a mismatched order, although I’m pretty confident that these scenes were arranged this way specifically for the trailer.

When the guns start blasting and the explosions light up, it’s as if someone lit a match setting off a flame of simultaneously adventurous and celebratory music that Tarantino has become known for. Based on this trailer, James Bond comes to mind; maybe because of the glorious guitar music—that conjures up images of scenic car chases—the espionage and foreign intrigue—and the action that looks like it’s straight out of a graphic novel. (It’s worth noting that Tarantino had intended to direct 2006’s Casino Royale, so it’s obvious Tarantino has affection for James Bond).

This second trailer for Inglourious Basterds definitely sells the film better and will inspire more people to see it when it hits American theaters on August 21, 2009.

1st "Inglourious Basterds" Trailer Lacks Tarantino's Trademark Zaniness

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5sQhTVz5IjQ

Quentin Tarantino’s long-delayed Inglourious Basterds is finally on its way to theaters, with the first trailer released this past February. The trailer is a cold dish except for Brad Pitt’s country-fried accent that has him pronouncing the word “Nazi” in a funny way. This trailer’s lack of Tarantino’s trademark zaniness puts the viewer in mind of Stanley Kubrick’s steely Vietnam drama, Full Metal Jacket.

There are various images that suggest that Basterds is a cold, menacing film, which I doubt it is based on the second trailer. There's an image of a crying girl covered in dirt running presumably for her life--this definitely screams Holocaust. There's nothing lighthearted about that. As the camera pans horizontally going down the line of the Basterds unit, the Full Metal Jacket comparison is stark. The soldiers' faces are deathly white and their faces stern. All of these images make Basterds seem like a war film played pretty reservedly without of Tarantino's idiosyncracies. Thank God the second trailer proves that false.

Sadistic revenge is the consistent thread between all of Tarantino’s films and once again revenge looks to be what drives Inglourious Basterds. The film is the story of an 8-man unit of Jewish men led by Lieutenant Aldo Raine (Pitt) named the “Basterds." I doubt that Raine is supposed to be Jewish, but I don't know for sure. I think the soldiers that he leads are supposed to be Jewish. Who knows how Raine became involved in leading the men. During World War II in Nazi-occupied France, the Basterds go on a mission to kill all the Nazis in the most gruesome ways leaving them “disemboweled, dismembered and disfigured." The Basterds plan to give the Nazis their comeuppance. Tarantino himself said that Basterds is his very own spaghetti western using World War II as the canvas to splatter his brand of bloody violence upon, which he makes clear and literal by flashing the film's taglines against splatters of blood.

Pitt plays the role of Lieutenant Aldo Raine who’s supposed to be a Hillbilly from the mountains of Tennessee. Pitt is beyond convincing as Aldo Raine because Pitt has the seemingly clueless look in his eyes that suggests a simpleton. Despite seeming ignorant, Pitt plays Aldo Raine in a way that conveys to the audience that Aldo Raine uses a seeming lack of self-awareness as a way to deal with the darkness of life. Raine’s charming frankness never alienates his army of “Basterds,” which seems to be what makes Raine an effective leader. He’s nothing like the surly Gunnery Sergeant Hartman from Full Metal Jacket.

Pitt is well-suited for comedic roles because the wry, flatness of his voice sounds almost childlike, resulting in a charming simplicity and directness. Pitt has always had boyish good looks With the close mustache and neat haircut, Pitt is a dead ringer for Clark Gable. Amazingly, at 46 years old, Pitt looks the same as he did in his pinup days, except with some gray around his temples and more lived-in skin. Pitt ages the best out of any movie star that I can remember. There’s a noticeably scar around Pitt’s neck that insiders say is an allusion to Aldo Raine’s past where he escaped a lynching, presumably somewhere in the South.

It’s more than a coincidence that Eli Roth plays a major role in the first trailer for Inglourious Basterds (and is supposed to play a major role in the actual film) because Roth is the torture-porn auteur behind films, Hostel and the 2002 Cabin Fever remake. Roth and Tarantino are soul-mates for the sole reason that they share a love of creating films full of artful violence. As Pitt’s Aldo Raine says, “The German will not be able to help themselves from imagining the cruelty their brothers endured at our hands, and our boot heels, and the edge of our knives,” a demonic smile creeps onto Roth’s face juxtaposed by a blast of chainsaw-like heavy metal music. From the way Roth smiles, it’s easy to imagine Tarantino giving the same smile, as Tarantino wrote Roth’s character Donnie Donowitz as his alter ego.

The trailer ends with the title’s logo reading “Inglourious Basterds” with a Swastika smack-dab in the middle of the logo. That’s another thing to note is Swastikas have a strong presence in this trailer, not just as armbands and flags, but carved with knives on the foreheads of Nazis.

Ghostly Poetry

The nature of dreams is that the events or images depicted in dreams are rooted in reality; usually whatever occurs in dreams happened in some form or fashion in reality. If Stan’s life depicted in Charles Burnett’s Killer of Sheep is a collection of dream sequences then the portrayals of the people around him including his wife and his daughter are askew versions of themselves that reflect what Stan truly thinks about them. If Stan’s life is perceived as a real-life and not a collection of dream sequences then Killer of Sheep is about a man who makes his boring life bearable by choosing to avoid conflict and refuse the temptations that come his way. The temptations present in Stan’s life are always available to be consumed; it all depends on if Stan wants to consume the temptations.

If the images in Sheep are perceived as dream sequences than all the images are representations of Stan’s inner thoughts that speak truthfully in a sometimes abstract way. Stan’s wife is depicted in Sheep as a glamorous woman who wears long, fake eyelashes, shiny jet-black tresses, sparkling doe eyes and a megawatt smile that could light up a Christmas tree. She’s an embodiment of beauty that Stan may feel he doesn’t deserve. Stan’s wife could give Diana Ross a run for her money when it comes to glamour, so it’s no wonder he feels a bit intimidated by her beauty and joyful presence. Stan is a depressed man and when people are depressed, they don’t want to see someone always smiling and constantly trying to be positive. It only makes them more depressed. When Stan and his wife slow dance to Dinah Washington’s ‘This Bitter Earth,” and his wife cries in despair after Stan pulls away from her and walks away out of the scene, it is communicating that Stan is aware of what his distance is doing to his wife and how it is making her feel. The slow dancing is definitely something that Stan and his wife often did in happier times, as well as when Stan, his wife and daughter are sitting together side by side in the backseat of the car; these are all images that refer to better times, times that are seemingly lost. If the image of Stan’s wife throughout Sheep is a reflection of what he truly thinks about her then it means that he genuinely thinks she’s beautiful, but she is emotionally and sexually-deprived because of him.

When watching Sheep, one gets the sense that goodness and light is buried beneath all the foggy despair of life in Stan’s Watts neighborhood. Just as Dinah Washington’s lyrics state, “And if my life is like the dust that hides the glow of a rose/what good am I, heaven only knows,” Stan and the people that surround him are looking for something more. Stan’s life really is this dusty reel of images that roll without color or energy. Sheep is no doubt a lethargically-paced film, but it’s reflects what Stan really feels about his life. Race is not at the forefront of Sheep, but as black people, the characters feel forgotten by society and feel that they have something to offer, but there’s no one to listen to them or give them a chance. Most people regardless of race, whether poor or middle-class are forced to live life working 9 to 5 earning an average salary. In Cliff Thompson’s 1997 Cineaste article, “The Devil Beats His Wife,” he uses a quote from Burnett that shows how the themes in Burnett’s films are “universal.” “There’s something unique about different peoples and what they’ve experienced…the thing is to not reduce it, not trivialize it, but show what it is, and show its universality” (Thompson, 26). In The things that make an average life bearable are the love of family and friends and hobbies and interests, but Stan has reached such a level of depression that he can’t appreciate the little things in life. Many people live life as if they’re running out of time and that every year that goes by is another year closer to death. The lyrics from “Bitter Earth” reflect this philosophy on life. “Lord, this bitter Earth, yes can be so cold/today you are young, too soon you’re old.” The interspersing of children playing definitely shows how the carelessness of youth is very short-lived and adulthood brings the harsh reality of working to pay the bills and other problems. As people grow older, they become more complicated. Whether it’s holding down a job to pay the bills, sexual needs or dealing with the complexity of human relationships, being an adult requires so much more than it does being a child; that’s why so many people fear adulthood and age in general.

Sheep is a film without an immediate conflict, despite having potential conflicts within it. Conflict is usually required in a plot because dissonance is created when a plot unfolds and drives the film forward. Most dreams are static and Sheep stays true to the nature of dreams because it doesn’t move forward and just stays in the same place. There’s really no beginning, middle or end, but instead just dream sequences depicting life or imitations of life. In the Thompson’s Cineaste article, he compares and contrasts Burnett’s two films, Sheep and My Brother’s Wedding and mentions how the presence of conflict affects a film. “…it has something Sheep doesn’t have—an immediate conflict. When Pierce’s best friend is released from prison, Pierce is forced to choose, finally, between his upright family and his friend’s criminal ways” (Thompson, 25). In general, many films are about people living their uneventful lives when something unexpectedly pops into their lives and makes their lives interesting and usually causes some type of conflict. The conflict makes way for the plot, which will drive the rest of the film and steer the film to its conclusion or climax. Thompson writes that “Pierce is forced to choose…,” and Stan is not forced to choose anything in Sheep mainly because he chooses to not invite conflict.

It’s clear that Stan loves his family, but he’s lost in connection with them because he’s lost his sense of self. He’s not working towards anything in his life. His desire to be wealthier is evident when he says, “I’m not poor, I give away things to the Salvation Army. You can’t give away things to the Salvation Army if you’re poor.” When people want to be more than what they are or want to achieve something, they become restless. They end up just waiting for something to come along and they end up not appreciating each day of their life and living in the moment. Stan is waiting for something, even if it’s a conflict. There are already potential conflicts waiting to be grasped, but Stan is waiting for a conflict worth grasping that could lead him to a life of wealth.

Some critics have referred to Burnett’s films as elegies and that they are. Elegies are sorrowful poems and through the reliance of mostly facial expressions and wistful jazz music, Sheep is an elegiac poem that tears the heartstrings, but in a very subtle way. The fact that the film is in black-and-white shows that Stan’s world is drained of life and energy. The use of poetry in Sheep comes in literal form when Bracy starts rapping after Gene’s car gets a flat tire while Stan and company are on the way to the racetracks to make a bet on a horse. “Man, I’m out here singing the blues, got my money on a horse can’t lose, and you’re out here on a flat. I always told you to keep a spare, but you’s a square. That’s why you can’t keep no spare. Now how are we going to get there?” These rhyming couplets sum up the entire film. Bracy is communicating that every time something that could rescue everyone from their misery, there’s something thwarts it. Also, when Bracy raps “I’m out here singing the blues,” he’s referring to not only his lamenting, but of the blues music that serves as the soundtrack to Sheep and as the crying voices of the characters.

If the characters in Sheep are viewed as people that the audience can relate to and care about then there’s one question to be asked: what does the future hold for Stan and his family? It makes the audience wonder what could cure Stan’s depression. One could assume that serious cash flow would definitely make Stan feel better, but in the meantime, Stan’s depression will increase and possibly bear tragic fruit. Since Stan spends his day killing sheep, surrounded by lifeless sheep corpses and cleans up all the blood, it wouldn’t be unusual if Stan’s became quite morbid. There are elements of Sheep that are prime material for a macabre Stephen King tale. Decapitated sheep heads being squeezed along with the big lifeless black eyes of the sheep staring like the glass eyes of stuffed animals are prime examples of the gruesome present in Sheep. There ingredients are all there.

Whether the meaning of Killer of Sheep is understood by analyzing the film as a collection of dream sequences or by analyzing as if the images are depictions of real-life, the message of Sheep is conveyed. The message is of regular people going through life in a monotonous routine where they go up nor down, yet have a better chance of going down than up. After watching Sheep, it remains in the psyche as if seeing someone’s life drift past you like a ghost.

Death Comes Unexpectedly

Capri is the final disintegration of Paul and Camille’s relationship happens. It’s no coincidence that it is in Capri when Jeremy “Jerry” Prokosch reappears. Jerry is a catalyst in the death of Paul and Camille’s relationship. Their relationship was already on the skids and would be doomed even if Jerry wasn’t in their lives. The scenes in and around the villa are some of the most beautiful scenes in Jean-Luc Godard’s 1963 film Contempt, yet also some of the most symbolic. The film documents the beginning of the end for a young French couple who symbolize the decline of the experimental artistry of European filmmaking.
When Paul arrives at the villa in Capri, he looks for Camille and can’t find her. He walks up to the roof to continue looking. As he walks up the roof, the camera stretches out into a wide shot. When he reaches the roof and is standing atop it, the wide shot presents Paul as a man who’s alone. Paul is this small singular figure standing in the middle of a wide roof. This wide shot symbolizes Paul’s aloneness. It’s also a foreshadowing of the ending of Contempt: Camille and Jerry are together while Paul is at a distance somewhere else. Paul is standing on the roof of the villa while Camille and Jerry have sex inside the villa. When Camille and Jerry head to their deaths, Paul is someplace else. When Paul leans over from the top of the roof, he senses that Camille and Jerry are close by. This setup is nothing new because from the moment Paul let Camille ride in Jerry’s car at the beginning of Contempt, Paul has been sensing something between Camille and Jerry. It’s very much a self-fulfilling prophecy because Paul was the one who let the relationship between Camille and Jerry happen. Paul constantly had the choice to prevent Camille from going with Jerry, even when she looked at Paul with a desperate face that said, “Please don’t let me go with him.” Maybe the reason Paul did nothing to save his marriage even when he was given the chance is that he wanted to live his life as if he’s in one of his screenplays. He needs melodrama in his life in order for him to live out a dramatic storyline.
When Camille and Paul are each separately on the villa’s roof, they are both filmed alone, which makes the roof seem to be a place that both of them use for solitude. The roof is a huge contrast to the confining space of their apartment. Camille and Paul take advantage of the spaciousness of the villa’s roof; this is made evident visually by the huge long-shots that look like the camera decided to stretch its arms out.
The scene when Paul is climbing the stairs up to the roof of the villa in Capri brings to mind scenes from Alfred Hitchcock’s 1958 film, Vertigo. In Vertigo, when James Stewart is climbing rooftops as well as he went and he and Kim Novak move upwards to the top of a bell tower. Maybe Vertigo influenced Godard to make Contempt because the similarities are clear; it’s ironic since Vertigo is such a very American film that influenced the entire thriller/mystery film genre. Both Contempt and Vertigo feature women who are objectified by men. It’s probably no coincidence that it was rumored that Godard originally wanted Novak to play the role of Camille. Novak would have been interesting, but Bridgette Bardot’s French Camille adds a crucial layer of complexity to Contempt. The film is a commentary on European filmmaking versus American filmmaking, so the French nationality of Camille and Paul is essential to the film’s meaning and impact. The French nationality of the couple is supposed to contrast against the American nationality of Jerry and the American film industry that Jerry represents.
Before arriving at the villa in Capri, Paul, Camille and company were on a boat filming the Fritz Lang’s The Odyssey-inspired film. Jerry wanted to take Camille on a ride with him back to the villa, and Paul let Camille ride back. This scene is a repetition of the beginning of the film when Paul allows Camille to ride with Jerry in his sports car back to Jerry’s house. This repetition of scenes is comparative to Guy in Rosemary’s Baby selling out his wife and child for fame and fortune. Paul is willing to let his wife to ride alone with a man he doesn’t even like just so he can further his career. Paul essentially participates in a self-fulfilling prophecy because he certainly must have suspected the relationship between Camille and Jerry. Also, most men would not let their beautiful wives be alone with a sleazy American actor. It’s like Indecent Proposal without all the parties being aware of the terms.
After Camille and Jerry return from having sex to meet Paul in the villa’s living room, Camille just sulks around. She sits down on the sofa with a sour frown on her face. Camille and Jerry look a bit disheveled, which could indicate that they were having sex or at least rolling around somewhere. After Camille sits down, Jerry proceeds to ask Camille over and show her something while Paul is in the room watching. Paul and Camille essentially flaunt their relationship for all to see, especially for Paul to see. Camille and Jerry have different reasons for making Paul suffer and feel foolish. Camille is trying to get attention from Paul. She resented the fact that Paul allowed her to ride alone with Jerry. She felt like a tool, a doll passed around. Camille was angry with Paul and became bored with him. Jerry wanted to humiliate Paul because Paul wanted to stay faithful to the source material of The Odyssey-inspired film, while Jerry wanted to create a loose adaptation of The Odyssey. Jerry’s direction was indicative of his American sleaziness and the American film industry. Paul thought the American industry corrupted anything it touched and made films into capitalist products instead of pieces of art. Jerry spoke to Paul’s want for money. Paul wanted to have his cake and eat it too. He wanted the riches and wealthy way-of-life that commerce brings, but he wanted to remain traditional in his approach to screenwriting. Jerry resented Paul’s opinion as much as Paul resented Jerry’s opinion. When Fritz Lang said that “In today’s world we have to accept what others want,” that statement applies to the film industry as well as Paul’s marriage. In the film industry, there are so many cooks in the kitchen compromises must be made. In Paul and Camille’s marriage, Camille seems to be the one who has to accept what Paul wants. Paul also uses Camille as a pawn in his chess game of becoming successful.
The irony of Contempt is that as much as Paul resents the American film industry and American-associated sleaze and slickness personified by Jerry, Paul emulated American film culture. The fact that Paul wore a hat and with a cigar in his mouth while he took a bath shows how much Paul was influenced by American film culture or Hollywood. When he was wearing the hat and had the cigar, he was trying to be like Dean Martin from the Rat Pack. Even Camille was a tool that Paul used to achieve the Hollywood image, the life of a movie star. Camille was blond and beautiful; she was a blond bombshell. When Paul saw Camille in her black wig, he said that he prefers her better as a blonde. Of course he would prefer Camille better as a blonde because all the hot actresses were blond like Marilyn Monroe. This is another example of Paul embracing Hollywood culture. For most of Contempt Camille looks like a Barbie doll being passed around for people to play with her. Lang is the only man in Contempt who doesn’t treat Camille like an object. This connection between Lang and Camille may exist because of Lang’s respect for women and how he views women as if they were Greek goddesses or like the soft and pure women in Sandro Botticelli paintings.
While in Paul and Camille’s hotel room, Camille constantly fought against the stereotypical female role that Paul was pushing her into. When Paul sits on the couch, he expects Camille to remove his shoes from his feet, but she leaves him to do it himself. The traditional female role requires a woman to take off her husband’s shoes for him since he’s had such a hard day at work. Camille rejects her assigned sex role again when she volunteers to sleep on the couch after she and Paul start fighting.
In Contempt, Paul said that Ulysses used the Trojan War to get away from his wife. By writing the screenplay for Lang’s film based on The Odyssey, Paul was using the Trojan War to escape from his wife. He was immersing himself in his work and pretty much being self-centered. Paul always claimed all the work he did was done for Camille and so that they could both live happily and wealthily, but as Camille said, Paul uses her as an excuse. If he fails at what he does then the blame can be placed on Camille. Camille got tired of being the excuse, or rather bored.
It’s in Capri where Camille becomes an object or rather like a roaming cat looking for a home. She walks around sullenly like a cat. She lies nude on rooftops. She’s just waiting for someone to have to sex with her or notice her in a sexual way. Camille is not even a person anymore.
Contempt is a film about death figuratively and literally: the death of a relationship, the impending death of film as an art form and the death of human beings.

Ghost Town and The Apartment both Contain Ingredients needed for the Recipe for Happiness

The 2008 film Ghost Town and the 1960 film The Apartment are both films about lonely and depressed people. The two films are like opposite sides of the brain that connect as a unit. Both films reach the same goal, but in opposite ways. Ghost Town and The Apartment act just as a multiplication problem would by reaching the same answer regardless of what position they’re in.
Ghost Town, directed by David Koepp, is about a lonely and depressed dentist named Bertram Binkus (Ricky Gervais) who takes his discontent with life out on the world. A woman comes into his life (Tea Leoni) and could possibly change his life for the better.The supernatural comes into play, hence the title Ghost Town but giving away any more details would ruin the movie-watching experience.
The Apartment is a film about an insurance statistician C.C. Baxter (Jack Lemmon) who lets the executives at the company he works for use his apartment for their extramarital affairs with hopes of becoming an executive himself. Baxter falls in love with a woman (Shirley MacLaine), and the plot thickens from there.
Ghost Town is more in the vein of a Billy Wilder film like The Apartment. Both films are categorized as romantic comedies, but both films are also dramas, or rather comedy-dramas. As far as comedy goes, both films have light-hearted humor, but the male leads are from two very different comedic breeds. Gervais’ style of comedy is dry and distinctly British always delivered deadpan, while Lemmon’s comedy is warm-hearted humor usually always delivered with a smile, or at least a smirk.If anyone resembles Lemmon, it’s the female lead Leoni. Leoni is like a female Lemmon because she exudes warmth whether being laugh-out-loud funny or shedding convincing tears.
Both Binkus and Baxter have awakenings on life, but from opposite sides of the spectrum. Binkus discovers that being mean to people will not make him happy or a more complete person and Baxter discovers that letting people use him will not make him happy or a complete person. Discovering the cruelties of people and discovering the goodness of people are both essential ingredients within in the recipe for happiness. Those are two components that help create a balance. Both films show that one cannot be a truly whole person without both of those components. The difference between Gervais and Lemmon is that Gervais is not aspiring towards anything. Gervais is an example that money isn’t the answer to happiness. Lemmon is aspiring towards something. He’s a likeable guy and a people-pleaser who people use for their own purposes. Lemmon doesn’t become depressed until after The Apartment gets settled.
Leoni proves her versatility as an actress. She has the ability to be a tragic drama queen, while also able to perform Lucille Ball-worthy slapstick as she proved on her 1990s television sitcom, “The Naked Truth” and in the big-screen comedy remake, Fun with Dick and Jane alongside Jim Carrey. The film has its jokes, but it is essentially a drama and a character study told with some humor. A drama or character study that uses a healthy dose of humor is unheard of in today’s film industry. For the most part, dramas are always extremely self-serious without a hint of lightness, and the comedies are always goof fests. It’s either one extreme or the other, there’s no middle ground. Leoni is one of the tools that causes Gervais’ awakening on life. In a way, Leoni plays the film’s heroine. By treating Gervais kindly like a human being, Leoni helped him realize the good in people.
Shirley MacLaine adds a different female presence to The Apartment. MacLaine plays more of a passive role. The only way she contributes to Lemmon’s awakening is by simply existing being the cute and friendly elevator operator. If anything, MacLaine acts as a victim for the majority of The Apartment. Leoni plays more of an active role in her male character’s awakening. Leoni also plays a comedic and dramatic role, while MacLaine mostly plays her role straight-faced. Usually MacLaine plays sardonically funny roles, but she plays her role in The Apartment as a waif, a damsel in distress. The situation of MacLaine’s character is closer to Gervais’ situation. She’s depressed, but aspires to be happy and fools herself into thinking a married man is going to leave his wife for her.
Both Lemmon and Gervais go through processes of better understanding humanity. Gervais learns that assuming the worst in people won’t make him a full and happy person. Lemmon learns that being nice and pleasing to the point of being a pushover will not make him a happy person.

‘Phone Booth’ needs to be Smashed then Reconstructed

At some points Phone Booth is unintentionally a comedy of errors, and other points it is a half-baked thriller of errors. In order for the film to work, it needs to be reconstructed, from the script to the casting. At 81 minutes, the film functions as almost a film short instead of the suspenseful character study it has the potential to be.

Directed by Joel Schumacher who helmed two of the Batman franchise films, the film focuses on fast-talking New York publicist Stu Shepard (played by Colin Farrell), who is supposed to be the everyday asshole. Stu finds himself immediately trapped in a phone booth where he is then forced to examine his asshole life all at the hands of an unseen sniper.

The audience is supposed to be opposed to Stu because he’s supposed to be a bad person and the audience is supposed to feel glee when Stu is forced to examine his sleazy existence in a sometimes humiliating way. That’s fine, but the only problem is Colin Farrell isn’t the sleazy type. Regardless of his actions, Farrell comes across as too innocent and puppy dog-like to portray a detestable character. A better casting choice for the role of Stu would have been Ben Affleck. With Affleck’s untrustworthy plastic smile, he plays sleazy, bravado-heavy characters well, yet always seeming like an inexperienced boy beneath all the posturing. Farrell’s accent alone doesn’t sound anything like a New York accent. Instead Farrell speaks in an unknown accent with occasional Irish flavorings.

Phone Booth is full of archetypical characters that never transcend the clichés they represent. The scenes with the street prostitutes on 8th Avenue are pure camp. The prostitutes are mouthy and look like the Halloween version of a prostitute: completely tacky and sleazy, but nothing more than that. There’s no personality under all the trashiness. The scenes are campy because the actresses give exaggerated performances of what they think a prostitute should be. I’ve never met a prostitute, but I doubt that they’d be as idiotic as the ones in the film, who act like chickens with their heads just cut off. I’m not saying the prostitutes have to be sugary sweet like Julia Roberts’ prostitute in Pretty Woman, but at least the prostitutes should be dynamic.

The cops in the film come across as annoying assholes. They come across as not knowing which end is up. They’re empty archetypes too just like the prostitutes because they never transcend stereotypes. They’re just objects there for the purpose of saying “put your hands up.” The cops never come across as heroes, but as annoyances.

The format of Phone Booth as it is would suit the stage. It would probably have more impact if it was adapted into a stage play. Audiences watching the scenes unfold as a stage play would connect more with the characters, especially the main character of Stu. On a stage, the cast would acting in closer quarters and would be physically closer to each other. The closeness would allow the character of Stu to connect with his fellow characters through eye contact in one frame, which is what audience’s view a play in. There are no camera angles in a play. Each member of audience can focus on whatever they want, but at least they’re given that choice. A film tells the audience what they should see by giving the audience only one option depending on who the camera is on. Most of the camera shots in Phone Booth are close-ups or medium shots. The film’s lack of long shots shows that Schumacher was trying to achieve a claustrophobic effect, which he does. However, the limited setting mirrors the film’s stunted storyline.

The static setting of Stu in a phone booth for the majority of the film is one of its major flaws. The static setting gets boring after only a short time. Static settings have worked in films like Hitchcock’s Lifeboat and Rope, but static settings only work in films that have characters with depth. If the 81-minute film was made longer in length, the plot could be extended. If anything, the film should have more of a back-story, which means that Stu shouldn’t enter the phone booth until much later in the film. Too much of the information about Stu is told to the audience and not shown. For instance, Stu cries when he is forced to admit to his wife his infidelity, but the audience is given no reason to believe he cares about his wife at all because of the lack of a back-story.

Phone Booth would have worked better as a character study that leads up to a dramatic and possibly horrific climax a la Taxi Driver. The climax shouldn’t have been the entire film. The climax shouldn’t be a substitute for the plot. As a character study, the film could have made Stu Shepard the audience could feel sympathy for. One of the best literary effects is to make the audience’s sympathies towards characters change. Often one character inspires sympathy at the beginning, and the character who initially seems the least sympathetic ends up being the most sympathetic character in the story. Everything in Phone Booth is static, from the characters and plot to the setting. This film should be renamed Static, it would be much more appropriate.
The film has potential to be a decent film, but only if the script is completely rewritten with casting changes. Schumacher is a director who likes color and he uses color to create a flashy New York City. The visuals are there, but the script is not.
It wouldn’t be a bad idea to remake Phone Booth with a reconstructed script and better casting. It would hardly be a remake because if would essentially be a whole new film with the phone booth premise being an aspect of the film, and not the film’s focus. The focus should be on the main character Stu, not on the phone booth who steals the entire spotlight. If remade, it might be a wise idea to chuck the Phone Booth title in favor of a brand new title.

The Candyman is a Ghost of America’s Dark Past

Myths and urban legends are self-perpetuating. That self-perpetuation is what makes myths and urban legends powerful. If people believe in something then that makes it present in someone’s mind. in the 1992 horror film, Candyman, the title character is a myth who gains his power through people believing in him and ultimately fearing him. To feed the film’s racial subtext, Candyman is a symbol of how slavery and the racism in America it spawned is a ghost that keeps haunting Americans regardless of their race.

Candyman centers around Chicago grad student Helen Lyle (played by Virginia Madsen) who’s doing a thesis paper on urban legends and how black people, especially in ghetto areas use urban legends as excuses for their poverty and lives of crime. She enters Chicago’s infamous Cabrini Green projects and learns of the Candyman myth. She soon believes in the myth and that’s when her life takes a turn, and in typical horror/slasher film fashion, the body count starts rising.

Candyman is first and foremost a supernatural ghost story that is rooted in reality. Bernard Rose adapted Clive Barker’s short story, “The Forbidden” and links the supernatural to modern race relations in America. Race is something that people try to ignore or deny, and Candyman acts as a symbol to remind people that race is a very real thing. The film subtly implies that Candyman made the black people of the ghetto commit crimes. His wrath mirrored the wrath of black people, and the cycle continues.

The racial element of the film concerns the immortal racism of America, and how the macabre past of slavery haunts Americans. The Candyman acts as a vessel of anger because of his gruesome death at the hands of racists during the later part of the nineteenth century. He is a symbol of the anger that black people in ghettos like Chicago’s Cabrini Green projects featured in the film. In a way, the film suggests that the black people of Cabrini Green keep the myth of Candyman going because he’s a link to the past that. Some people try to forget the horrors of slavery and act like it doesn’t exist or just doesn’t matter. The fact that the urban legend of the Candyman ends up being real is meant to prove to nonbelievers that the horrors of slavery and racism are real. It proves that the struggles of being a black person in America are real and that black people are not just using their race as an excuse for being poor or committing crimes.
When Helen first arrives in the Cabrini Green projects with her colleague Bernadette, she interviews a black single mother living in her apartment.

Bernadette is a light-skinned black woman, while the single mother is of a darker skin tone. Bernadette can barely look the woman in the eye. Bernadette’s been around upper-crust and highly-educated people who are mostly white that she’s kept herself at a distance from the ghetto. When she’s face-to-face with the ghetto, it scares her. From the moment Helen and Bernadette arrive in Cabrini Green, Bernadette acts nervous and scared as if the boogeyman is going to pop out at any moment. In reality, she fears that a gun-toting thug will attack her, rape her and probably kill her. Even if when someone visited the ghetto and they didn’t see any violence or anything particularly menacing, they’d still hold onto a stigma of the ghetto. That stigma represents the violence and fear associated with black people. The stigma concerns beliefs about the way black people look physically to stereotypes of black people being violent and oversexed, which makes the fact that Candyman is a black man interesting.

The Candyman (played by Tony Todd) was the son of a slave who was educated the best schools because he had a talent for painting. He was killed because of his relationship with a white woman and the fact that she was pregnant with his child. Tony Todd plays Candyman as a man of breeding with his carefully enunciated words and deceptively authoritative voice that hums like bees. For a character who’s meant to be scary, Candyman is nonthreatening, save for the bloody hook that replaced his severed hand. The inclusion of Candyman’s back-story shows that Candyman is not even really a villain, but a victim.

Candyman uses his voice to hypnotize people. His voice is an instrument that haunts with its deep, melodic tone that is just as romantic as the interaction between Candyman and Helen. The reason Helen tears up pretty much every time she sees Candyman is because her belief in him is such a real thing; she believes in him with her soul.

Candyman is a ghost and as a ghost, he wanders from decade to decade, era to era. In Lafcadio Hearn’s prose-poem, “A Ghost,” he sums up the concept of a ghost well. “I refer to the civilized nomad, whose wanderings are not prompted by hope or gain, nor determined by pleasure, but simply compelled by certain necessities of his being,--the man whose inner secret nature is totally at variance with the stable conditions of a society to which he belongs only by accident.”

The piano music that plays while Candyman asks Helen to become immortal, a feeling of haunting is summoned, as well as mystery. This scene is made up of intense seduction and eroticism. The piano music tinkles as if it’s concerning a taboo subject, which the scene is. The interracial chemistry between Candyman and Helen is apparent. Although interracial romance is viewed as still somewhat taboo, the combination of Candyman and Helen is perfect. Candyman’s hook-for-a-hand acts as a direct phallic object and contributes to the film’s eroticism. The hook is direct because Candyman strokes Helen’s thigh with the hook and proceeds to grope her groin, implying penetration.

The murals on walls, including the mural of Candyman on a building’s wall suggests the importance of storytelling and oral tradition, which is very common in black culture. The past haunts minorities living in America more than non-minorities.

Helen’s realization that the Candyman is real is meant to be the equivalent of a white person accepting and realizing the difficult plight of being a black person living in America. Candyman is an allegory that intends to communicate that racism is still alive and kicking in America, despite the America having its first black president. As sad as it sounds, racism in America is immortal, just like Candyman.

The old crime code imprisons Craig’s drug dealer in Layer Cake

The feeling of being trapped when wanting to escape from a dangerous world is what the film Layer Cake explores, which is brought to life thanks to the penetrating acting talent of Daniel Craig.

Layer Cake paints the picture of a good-willed cocaine dealer who wants to leave his life of crime, but like the crime code declares: once you’re in, there’s no getting out.

The ruggedness of the British crime world depicted in Layer Cake matches well with Daniel Craig’s rugged, yet regal face. That oxymoron is important because the central meaning of the film is that Daniel Craig’s nameless drug dealer is a piece of elegance amidst a world of sloppy violence.

Craig plays his drug dealer character as a tortured soul. When his drug dealer is ordered to execute a man, Craig does the deed, but it has insomnia-inducing effects on him. It’s his conscience that’s in the way.

The fact that Craig’s drug dealer does not belong in the crime world is pointed out countless times throughout the movie. One of the instances is when crime boss Eddie Temple (played by Michael Gambon) tells Craig that he is a “bright young man” with “potential.” That bright potential can be seen immediately in Craig’s wide ice-blue eyes. Another instance of Craig’s diamond-amongst-slime status is the fact that Craig’s only act of violence in Layer Cake is reluctantly killing a man with a silenced gun.

The drug dealer that Craig portrays is a man who has gotten involved with the wrong crowd, which is the theme of so many movies about good-willed heroes. Craig reaches out to touch the world he longs to be apart of when he meets a club girl named Tammy (played by Sienna Miller). Craig and Tammy have a genuine attraction to each other. Unfortunately, Craig’s foreplay with Tammy is interrupted by the endless demands of Craig’s profession.

Unlike a film like Kill Bill, which has scenes that are not sequenced chronologically, Layer Cake tells a coherent story from beginning to end. There are plot points that are shown on camera, but not referenced until thirty minutes later. But the point is the storyline is not over the audience’s heads. The film’s plot points are piled smoothly on top of each other like an intricate, yet simply delicious “layered cake.”

The cinematography of Layer Cake is as rugged and elegant as Daniel Craig’s character. The film’s juxtaposition of camera frames speaks its own language that is as expressive as the dialogue. There’s an intense close-up of Craig’s blue eyes that penetrates through the screen. The viewer can almost see through to Craig’s soul. It is appropriate to say that the film’s visuals are a lesson in rugged sleekness.

The plight of Daniel Craig’s drug dealer seems to be headed towards happiness, but the viewer gets the feeling that the old crime code of being in and never getting out will chain Craig forever. It seems that what Layer Cake is conveying is that Craig’s drug dealer will find happiness only in death.

"Heathers" is an inventive film that makes some satiric, but serious statements on this little thing we call Life

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Tarantino tackles World War II by way of Brad Pitt...

Brad Pitt must really be feeling southern because in his latest film, "Inglorious Bastards" directed by Quentin Tarantino, Pitt is a cucumber-cool Sergeant with a nondescript southern accent who commands an army in the style of "Full Metal Jacket," but not as severe. Based on the film's recently released trailer, Pitt's sergeant is nothing like the mean and abusive Sergeant Hartman from "Full Metal Jacket"; Pitt's character is more like the Ken doll version.

The trailer looks interesting, and judging from the blood splatters displayed with the text interspersed between scenes from the film, "Inglorious Bastards" is certain to be bloody and fueled by revenge. Revenge as a central theme is nothing new for Tarantino, but it's especially interesting to see what philosophies Tarantino includes since the film's premise is an American army on a mission to torture and kill and "dismember" Nazi soldiers. If I'm not mistaken, this is the first time Tarantino is tackling a part of world history like World War II.
This film looks to be controversial, and I'm looking forward to it. I won't say that I'm excited, but I'd definitely go to the theaters to see the film, mainly because it's directed by Tarantino, who I'm a big fan of.