In no particular order...
Blue Velvet
Blade Runner
2001: A Space Odyssey
Dune
Phase IV
Brazil
The Texas Chain Saw Massacre
The Shining
Night of the Living Dead
Zombi 2
Rosemary's Baby
The Lair of the White Worm
Un Chien andalou
The Trial
Eraserhead
El Topo
Santa Sangre
The Mirror
The Stendhal Syndrome
Fantastic Planet
Sisters
La Prisonnière
Comment Wang-Fo fut sauvé
Liquid Sky
The Tracey Fragments
Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans
Persona
The Dreamers
Breathless
Crazy Love
Tokyo Decadence
Citizen Kane
The Seventh Seal
Chimes at Midnight
Satyricon
Requiem for a Dream
Rhapsody in August
The Adventures of Baron Munchausen
The Neverending Story
Pulp Fiction
Taxi Driver
Léon: The Professional
Touch of Evil
Cul-de-sac
Pierrot le fou
Détective
The Great Silence
Koyaanisqatsi
Baraka
F for Fake!
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Eric
Brian Reinbolt - psicosismark@yahoo.com
Those three overrated numbers were dialed and like the cowards they are, they left in true hypocritical fashion leaving behind their usual victim, he walked one foot after the other not knowing where to go.
The clear blue sky began to disappear into breezy darkness; admiring the fields close to him on the country road he noticed several houses before him at the end of the road, would this be his final destination?
Passing the houses he saw lights in each window that inside contained families who were just happy to be alive, just happy to exist without worrying about fragile egos or what others might think of them, on this particular evening the majority of the citizens within the dated community were attending another bland social event that seemed to never grow tired of itself.
He was caught off guard by a car at the end of the road coming towards him shining its front lights in his face as if to say “I am the ipidomy of intimidation”.
As it slowly approached him it really came to no surprise that Eric saw the five sided symbol on the side of the rusty old car and he stopped to go over the events in his head as they happened.
Eric Pines grew up in a family of low values, a sort of day by day contradiction in which each member in a literal sense was a character of their real identities and any bystander not familiar with the family could immediately point at them and gain the ability to somberly find out their true personalities.
As depressing as they were to live with Eric chose to be with them because these were the only people he knew, the only life he could live, years of abuse from these characters bruised and battered his self esteem to the point nightly visits from authorities were nothing new.
Remembering the events proved to be too painful for Eric and he reluctantly returned home, he noticed the sheriff’s car sitting in the driveway in hopes to talk to the family that called upon his services, of course they were long gone by now as the sporting event in town was far too important than human emotion; Eric approached the house.
The sheriff exited the back door of the house and stopped to look around with his flashlight, as he looked up on the roof he saw two red lights, he looked closer to inspect what they were as a shape surrounding the lights began to form before his very eyes, the sheriff stood horrified as fangs slowly raised to reveal remnants of saliva dripping onto the floor below him, a low pitched snarl made his heart beat faster.
The figure leaped onto the sheriff and sunk its fangs into his face ripping apart his skin and leaving him for dead and as the sheriff’s mangled body withered in pain and begged for mercy Eric had a better idea entering the garage to locate his father’s saw, to the dismay of the sheriff Eric began slicing into the bone causing blood to spurt on the family deck, when he was finished he cleaned up the bloody mess and set the table as the family would be having steak that night.
Those three overrated numbers were dialed and like the cowards they are, they left in true hypocritical fashion leaving behind their usual victim, he walked one foot after the other not knowing where to go.
The clear blue sky began to disappear into breezy darkness; admiring the fields close to him on the country road he noticed several houses before him at the end of the road, would this be his final destination?
Passing the houses he saw lights in each window that inside contained families who were just happy to be alive, just happy to exist without worrying about fragile egos or what others might think of them, on this particular evening the majority of the citizens within the dated community were attending another bland social event that seemed to never grow tired of itself.
He was caught off guard by a car at the end of the road coming towards him shining its front lights in his face as if to say “I am the ipidomy of intimidation”.
As it slowly approached him it really came to no surprise that Eric saw the five sided symbol on the side of the rusty old car and he stopped to go over the events in his head as they happened.
Eric Pines grew up in a family of low values, a sort of day by day contradiction in which each member in a literal sense was a character of their real identities and any bystander not familiar with the family could immediately point at them and gain the ability to somberly find out their true personalities.
As depressing as they were to live with Eric chose to be with them because these were the only people he knew, the only life he could live, years of abuse from these characters bruised and battered his self esteem to the point nightly visits from authorities were nothing new.
Remembering the events proved to be too painful for Eric and he reluctantly returned home, he noticed the sheriff’s car sitting in the driveway in hopes to talk to the family that called upon his services, of course they were long gone by now as the sporting event in town was far too important than human emotion; Eric approached the house.
The sheriff exited the back door of the house and stopped to look around with his flashlight, as he looked up on the roof he saw two red lights, he looked closer to inspect what they were as a shape surrounding the lights began to form before his very eyes, the sheriff stood horrified as fangs slowly raised to reveal remnants of saliva dripping onto the floor below him, a low pitched snarl made his heart beat faster.
The figure leaped onto the sheriff and sunk its fangs into his face ripping apart his skin and leaving him for dead and as the sheriff’s mangled body withered in pain and begged for mercy Eric had a better idea entering the garage to locate his father’s saw, to the dismay of the sheriff Eric began slicing into the bone causing blood to spurt on the family deck, when he was finished he cleaned up the bloody mess and set the table as the family would be having steak that night.
The Danse Macabre
Brian Reinbolt - psicosismark@yahoo.com
I peaked outside the cabin to look at the moon but instead found myself glancing too early, forced to watch the sun go down I became fascinated at the overabundance of leaves with all kinds of colors, oranges, reds and green that fell swaying ever so slowly until they gently hit the ground at the precise moment the sun disappeared into the landscape.
A dark and hazy tint took over the sky as lightning bolts crushed the hope of getting a glimpse of anything even remotely resembling the glowing crater, I couldn’t explain why I so desperately needed to see the object, days went by but only rain fell as I hungered.
I wandered out despite the wind roaring in my face, struggling to fight off the piercing rain drops I kneeled by the well and dropped the cup down the hole, wheeling it up again to take a sip, I could see my reflection in the water at the bottom of the hole, my skin was frail and had sunken into my face to the point my cheekbones protruded in an abnormal way, frightened by my own appearance I ran inside the cabin to wait ‘til the rain stopped and the morning arrived.
All was clear when the sun rose from the landscape. A crow sat on the lowest branch of the tree staring menacingly and cawing just above the wet grass where worms dwelled squirming their way through the Earth’s surface, I remembered my reflection and I had not intended to be a part of that surface anytime soon so that night I waited again, looking up I could see the drops falling rapidly towards my face, cold against my cheek I picked up the rifle and put it in my mouth.
I peaked outside the cabin to look at the moon but instead found myself glancing too early, forced to watch the sun go down I became fascinated at the overabundance of leaves with all kinds of colors, oranges, reds and green that fell swaying ever so slowly until they gently hit the ground at the precise moment the sun disappeared into the landscape.
A dark and hazy tint took over the sky as lightning bolts crushed the hope of getting a glimpse of anything even remotely resembling the glowing crater, I couldn’t explain why I so desperately needed to see the object, days went by but only rain fell as I hungered.
I wandered out despite the wind roaring in my face, struggling to fight off the piercing rain drops I kneeled by the well and dropped the cup down the hole, wheeling it up again to take a sip, I could see my reflection in the water at the bottom of the hole, my skin was frail and had sunken into my face to the point my cheekbones protruded in an abnormal way, frightened by my own appearance I ran inside the cabin to wait ‘til the rain stopped and the morning arrived.
All was clear when the sun rose from the landscape. A crow sat on the lowest branch of the tree staring menacingly and cawing just above the wet grass where worms dwelled squirming their way through the Earth’s surface, I remembered my reflection and I had not intended to be a part of that surface anytime soon so that night I waited again, looking up I could see the drops falling rapidly towards my face, cold against my cheek I picked up the rifle and put it in my mouth.
Night Room
Brian Reinbolt - psicosismark@yahoo.com
Room twenty five by a cold cement tile covered hall with white suits and dim lighting I lay, looking down at the floor covered in a shadow from the umbrella on the door knob, its creeping subtleness makes it hard to shut my eyes.
The sink in the bathroom sounds as if it's breaking the plaster with each drop falling like a bomb piercing my ears and causing an echo of distorted voices I care not to hear any longer.
I can't remember why I ended up here nor do I know what my ailment is but I assume it has to do with my trip into what I perceive to be hell, being the area where I fell into obscurity amongst something I thought would never be possible. In many ways it was a lot like tonight in that it was cold, damp, the moon shining through the curtains in full view, except the sounds of rats squirming in the darkness was overwhelming my ability to focus on a way out of the trap that befell me.
As I knocked away the spider webs that seemed to stick to something beneath me that I can only describe as several smooth round rock shaped circles I furiously tapped at my flashlight revealing a tunnel filled with human skulls, looking up, the rain poured down on my face hitting my cheek and surrounding me with water as suddenly I was in a canoe gliding slowly through a tunnel until I came out on the other end observing old and elegantly designed buildings with people of all kinds of shapes and features looking on, grinning back with the plastic they were made of.
I looked up and the sun blinded me as I awoke in room twenty five with an umbrella hanging ever so slightly from a door knob. Well that is my story and I have told it repeatedly to no reaction, they don't seem to care anymore as they never utter a word wheeling me down the hallway every day since.
Room twenty five by a cold cement tile covered hall with white suits and dim lighting I lay, looking down at the floor covered in a shadow from the umbrella on the door knob, its creeping subtleness makes it hard to shut my eyes.
The sink in the bathroom sounds as if it's breaking the plaster with each drop falling like a bomb piercing my ears and causing an echo of distorted voices I care not to hear any longer.
I can't remember why I ended up here nor do I know what my ailment is but I assume it has to do with my trip into what I perceive to be hell, being the area where I fell into obscurity amongst something I thought would never be possible. In many ways it was a lot like tonight in that it was cold, damp, the moon shining through the curtains in full view, except the sounds of rats squirming in the darkness was overwhelming my ability to focus on a way out of the trap that befell me.
As I knocked away the spider webs that seemed to stick to something beneath me that I can only describe as several smooth round rock shaped circles I furiously tapped at my flashlight revealing a tunnel filled with human skulls, looking up, the rain poured down on my face hitting my cheek and surrounding me with water as suddenly I was in a canoe gliding slowly through a tunnel until I came out on the other end observing old and elegantly designed buildings with people of all kinds of shapes and features looking on, grinning back with the plastic they were made of.
I looked up and the sun blinded me as I awoke in room twenty five with an umbrella hanging ever so slightly from a door knob. Well that is my story and I have told it repeatedly to no reaction, they don't seem to care anymore as they never utter a word wheeling me down the hallway every day since.
Touriste
Brian Reinbolt - psicosismark@yahoo.com
Do you remember that day?
The one where you stood by the window of the balcony and looked at the street below you as the sun shined down it's brightness upon you?
I remember it well, it was an old apartment with white painted exterior covering its old age and even though the carpet was dimly red and the vintage glass windows stained from decades of neglect I still respected what you added to the place or better yet I respected the place and the time, in France circa the nineteen sixties any apartment was considered a treasure and still is to this day, you can't get a better quality home with such history and craftsmanship attached to it.
Do you remember what you did after walking in from the balcony and adjusting your skirt?
Well let me refresh your memory, you sat down on the floor and began watching the boxing match on television, not a flat screen and certainly not your top of the line fancy bells and whistles ordeal, no this was a basic silver oval set with two tennis balls on top to keep grandfather happy, you know how he loved tennis.
As you tried on clothing throwing it on and off repeatedly until you found the dress that would suffice I couldn't help but admire your stunning beauty from the corner of the room as the light reflected off of you just perfect.
After putting on your best hat you wanted to go to town square as to not spoil such an attractive day and me being the type to never refuse a pretty girls request, we did and while we walked the street I couldn't help but look about the giant and narrow buildings above me, buildings with designs as if a small child built them with his imagination and made them as tall and thin as he wished, despite being worn with time they had a youthful embrace about them.
I looked back and for a split second thought that I had lost you but you only wondered over to the fountain pond where the children sailed miniature boats to the delight of parents who chose to sit on the nearby benches and engage in deep philosophical conversation, I'm not sure what they uttered amongst each other but I didn't care because I had no worries, I was with you and as you saw your reflection in the pond below I would be lying if I didn't think the image staring back at you made you perplexed.
I pointed to my watch and never frown you ran over to me and we fed the birds on the cobblestone street admiring the sun go down.
On our way back to the apartment as the street lights led our way I knew nothing lasts forever and it was time to let you go, I saw the moon's reflection in the window belonging to the store I dropped you off at, you smiled back still as pretty as could be and I shed a tear knowing it could be the last time we would see each other, I knew I had to get back to grandfather because after all he was the one lending his hand for this trip and without him I wouldn't be able to recall the last time I saw Paris.
Do you remember that day?
The one where you stood by the window of the balcony and looked at the street below you as the sun shined down it's brightness upon you?
I remember it well, it was an old apartment with white painted exterior covering its old age and even though the carpet was dimly red and the vintage glass windows stained from decades of neglect I still respected what you added to the place or better yet I respected the place and the time, in France circa the nineteen sixties any apartment was considered a treasure and still is to this day, you can't get a better quality home with such history and craftsmanship attached to it.
Do you remember what you did after walking in from the balcony and adjusting your skirt?
Well let me refresh your memory, you sat down on the floor and began watching the boxing match on television, not a flat screen and certainly not your top of the line fancy bells and whistles ordeal, no this was a basic silver oval set with two tennis balls on top to keep grandfather happy, you know how he loved tennis.
As you tried on clothing throwing it on and off repeatedly until you found the dress that would suffice I couldn't help but admire your stunning beauty from the corner of the room as the light reflected off of you just perfect.
After putting on your best hat you wanted to go to town square as to not spoil such an attractive day and me being the type to never refuse a pretty girls request, we did and while we walked the street I couldn't help but look about the giant and narrow buildings above me, buildings with designs as if a small child built them with his imagination and made them as tall and thin as he wished, despite being worn with time they had a youthful embrace about them.
I looked back and for a split second thought that I had lost you but you only wondered over to the fountain pond where the children sailed miniature boats to the delight of parents who chose to sit on the nearby benches and engage in deep philosophical conversation, I'm not sure what they uttered amongst each other but I didn't care because I had no worries, I was with you and as you saw your reflection in the pond below I would be lying if I didn't think the image staring back at you made you perplexed.
I pointed to my watch and never frown you ran over to me and we fed the birds on the cobblestone street admiring the sun go down.
On our way back to the apartment as the street lights led our way I knew nothing lasts forever and it was time to let you go, I saw the moon's reflection in the window belonging to the store I dropped you off at, you smiled back still as pretty as could be and I shed a tear knowing it could be the last time we would see each other, I knew I had to get back to grandfather because after all he was the one lending his hand for this trip and without him I wouldn't be able to recall the last time I saw Paris.
Caught
Brian Reinbolt - psicosismark@yahoo.com
As I gazed down I noticed the moon's reflection spiraling ever so slowly in the water before me, the wind swayed as the crickets chirped but the only sound I was concentrating on was that of my own breath, I could only stop and gaze for a moment to catch it because out of the corner of my right eye I saw him run across the alley in between the corporate structures that prop our society like pieces of shit floating in a pond of superficial waste, like a scared child he kept running, goofy grin intact almost as if he knew the punishment that threatened his very existence, I took my gun out of my coat before losing my hat to the wind.
I quickly chased after him again, step by step I ran but with every inch he was able to escape my grasp until he disappeared into the night, I wasn't ready to give up and I didn't, I was in severe pain like usual, side aching, bones cracking underneath my rigid skin worn by years of fighting the norms that this cesspool around me has set.
Fighting the urge to stop and fall to the ground like a ton of bricks I paced on until I caught his foot which became elongated, stretching out to a sickening thinness, I firmly grasped his ankle before the charcoal like substance evaporated into the night leaving remnants of suite on the street below.
In my apartment while resting my wounds I heard a knock coming from the hallway, I unlocked the hatch connected to the door sneaking a glimpse of who was on the other side; I glanced at a woman with tears rolling down her cheeks, covered in suite.
I quickly slammed the door shut and hid in the corner but the knocking and screaming continued into the wee hours of the night.
The night as it progressed flowed by ever so slowly with the clock ticking as if time was standing still, I heard the pot on the stove steaming as sweat ran down my face but I couldn't for the life of me remember making tea let alone at this time of the night, I looked out the window and down below at the field outside as its stalks swayed back and forth while the moonlight covered it in a blanket, it's funny this happens once in a great while, the city is usually what I see, I live in the city and I wish she would stop knocking.
This is television isn't? I'm not here, I can't be.
As I gazed down I noticed the moon's reflection spiraling ever so slowly in the water before me, the wind swayed as the crickets chirped but the only sound I was concentrating on was that of my own breath, I could only stop and gaze for a moment to catch it because out of the corner of my right eye I saw him run across the alley in between the corporate structures that prop our society like pieces of shit floating in a pond of superficial waste, like a scared child he kept running, goofy grin intact almost as if he knew the punishment that threatened his very existence, I took my gun out of my coat before losing my hat to the wind.
I quickly chased after him again, step by step I ran but with every inch he was able to escape my grasp until he disappeared into the night, I wasn't ready to give up and I didn't, I was in severe pain like usual, side aching, bones cracking underneath my rigid skin worn by years of fighting the norms that this cesspool around me has set.
Fighting the urge to stop and fall to the ground like a ton of bricks I paced on until I caught his foot which became elongated, stretching out to a sickening thinness, I firmly grasped his ankle before the charcoal like substance evaporated into the night leaving remnants of suite on the street below.
In my apartment while resting my wounds I heard a knock coming from the hallway, I unlocked the hatch connected to the door sneaking a glimpse of who was on the other side; I glanced at a woman with tears rolling down her cheeks, covered in suite.
I quickly slammed the door shut and hid in the corner but the knocking and screaming continued into the wee hours of the night.
The night as it progressed flowed by ever so slowly with the clock ticking as if time was standing still, I heard the pot on the stove steaming as sweat ran down my face but I couldn't for the life of me remember making tea let alone at this time of the night, I looked out the window and down below at the field outside as its stalks swayed back and forth while the moonlight covered it in a blanket, it's funny this happens once in a great while, the city is usually what I see, I live in the city and I wish she would stop knocking.
This is television isn't? I'm not here, I can't be.
Speed Racer (2008) – Review
Brian Reinbolt - psicosismark@yahoo.com
I'll be honest, I went into this film thinking it was going to be nothing more than a big media corporation bonanza with money pouring from the celluloid itself, what I walked out with proved to be the result I expected but somehow I wasn't as offended as I thought I would be and it turned out to be a good catering to the masses (if there is such a thing), in that it delivered an array of visual effects never before seen on the screen and should be at least given a chance based on that fact alone.
This film defies categorization as the style used is definitely unique and very exclusive to this story; directors Larry & Andy Wachowski should take a backseat to the real craftsmen of the project; the editors, yes without them the Wachowski's live action vision of the sixties Japanese Anime would not have been able to come to fruition in the way it did.
The directing structure itself; it's all over the place, in the opening act it proves hectic and over juxtaposed but by the time we see Speed grow into a young adult it matures into a well balanced mix of pop art interspersing everything from news telecasts, dazzling retro billboard-esque imagery with CGI utilized broad sky backgrounds the likes of what you would see in the streets of Japan if you were to walk in it in day or night and view the electronic neon lights or clouds above and it all flies by at a rate comparable to the original animation characters' mouths.
Veterans; John Goodman, Susan Sarandon & Christina Ricci play their roles perfectly and the actor on display with the brightest future is the man playing Speed Racer himself; Emile Hirsch who delivers a good convincing performance and will probably go on to be the next mainstream actor. If you watched the anime like I did with English voice over during the mid nineties Cartoon Network airings or if you watched the original dating back to its syndicated U.S run, it stays true to the original story and shouldn't offend purists, in fact I see this as a victory to all fans of the original.
My only complaints would have to be the running time; clocking in at 135 minutes it doesn't necessarily move at a snail's pace but by the middle of the film you do start to realize you have been sitting for a bit; this was also one of the only flaws of the Wachowski brothers previous films such as "The Matrix" & "V For Vendetta".
The other gripe is the fact Susan Sarandon is playing the pre feminist role of the good mother who wouldn't dare defy any man in her way is a little tacky and proves that even if you involve people as un-commercial as the Wachowski's in the end you still have studio executives dabbling their fingerprints in certain places which is kind of hypocritical because the films main message is anti corporation with a do it yourself mindset but yet at times I couldn't help but notice the product placement.
All in all it is a good time to kill a few hours and in my case take in something that you wouldn't normally rush to view but after the fact end up pleasantly surprised.
***1/2 out of *****
I'll be honest, I went into this film thinking it was going to be nothing more than a big media corporation bonanza with money pouring from the celluloid itself, what I walked out with proved to be the result I expected but somehow I wasn't as offended as I thought I would be and it turned out to be a good catering to the masses (if there is such a thing), in that it delivered an array of visual effects never before seen on the screen and should be at least given a chance based on that fact alone.
This film defies categorization as the style used is definitely unique and very exclusive to this story; directors Larry & Andy Wachowski should take a backseat to the real craftsmen of the project; the editors, yes without them the Wachowski's live action vision of the sixties Japanese Anime would not have been able to come to fruition in the way it did.
The directing structure itself; it's all over the place, in the opening act it proves hectic and over juxtaposed but by the time we see Speed grow into a young adult it matures into a well balanced mix of pop art interspersing everything from news telecasts, dazzling retro billboard-esque imagery with CGI utilized broad sky backgrounds the likes of what you would see in the streets of Japan if you were to walk in it in day or night and view the electronic neon lights or clouds above and it all flies by at a rate comparable to the original animation characters' mouths.
Veterans; John Goodman, Susan Sarandon & Christina Ricci play their roles perfectly and the actor on display with the brightest future is the man playing Speed Racer himself; Emile Hirsch who delivers a good convincing performance and will probably go on to be the next mainstream actor. If you watched the anime like I did with English voice over during the mid nineties Cartoon Network airings or if you watched the original dating back to its syndicated U.S run, it stays true to the original story and shouldn't offend purists, in fact I see this as a victory to all fans of the original.
My only complaints would have to be the running time; clocking in at 135 minutes it doesn't necessarily move at a snail's pace but by the middle of the film you do start to realize you have been sitting for a bit; this was also one of the only flaws of the Wachowski brothers previous films such as "The Matrix" & "V For Vendetta".
The other gripe is the fact Susan Sarandon is playing the pre feminist role of the good mother who wouldn't dare defy any man in her way is a little tacky and proves that even if you involve people as un-commercial as the Wachowski's in the end you still have studio executives dabbling their fingerprints in certain places which is kind of hypocritical because the films main message is anti corporation with a do it yourself mindset but yet at times I couldn't help but notice the product placement.
All in all it is a good time to kill a few hours and in my case take in something that you wouldn't normally rush to view but after the fact end up pleasantly surprised.
***1/2 out of *****
The Dark Knight (2008) – Review
Brian Reinbolt - psicosismark@yahoo.com
Remember Tim Burton’s 1989 big screen adaptation of Batman? It left an imprint on my childhood and to this day is one of my favorites, while it wasn’t the greatest film ever produced it was indeed a turning point in major studios accepting directors who weren’t afraid to think outside the box and who were able to paint their own canvas of storytelling just as effectively as already established heavyweights without alienating the audience.
Just like Burton’s Batman got people re-interested in one of the most durable and ageless comic book titles in existence director Christopher Nolan’s “The Dark Knight” has done the same but with such haunting reality that it may have leaped out of its own restrictions to become on par with the best of the best that film has to offer, starring the terrific “Christian Bale” as the caped crusader, “Maggie Gyllenhaal” substituting in place of “Katie Holmes” as Rachel Dawes (the only character not in the original comic book story arc) and an impressive lineup of villains with “Heath Ledger” as The Joker and “Aaron Eckhart” as Two Face, the mood is exactly like the title indicates; dark… and brooding.
I was very surprised at its subtle ability to move me, from the wide exterior shots of Gotham’s finest surveying his city, the excellent performance of Heath Ledger’s portrayal as the insanely disturbed Joker to the replication of real life issues that we deal with on a daily basis such as twenty four hour news cable outfits spreading fear by reporting up to the minute information on every kind of political spectrum available, it has everything going for it.
After the opening scene that involved the Jokers goons robbing a bank shooting each other one after the other until there is only one left in a comedic fashion (obvious tip of the hat to the infamous Kids in the Hall sketch; “Seven Things to Do”) it picks up where “Batman Begins” left off with Bruce Wayne still early in his career as a crime fighter and still collecting his thoughts while evaluating if this is truly what he wants to do with his life, he quickly realizes that the good deeds he has taken up are affecting his health like a few scenes in particular where butler Alfred is attending to the wear and tear his master has received from his late night crime fighting escapades while another has Wayne falling asleep in an important business meeting.
Wayne also finds his devotion to cleaning up the streets is not appreciated as much as he had hoped by the people surrounding him causing friction between the media and the focal point of his life; Rachel Dawes, the on screen love interest of the hero, she plays a crucial part in Batman’s motives throughout as he’s depending on an answer to a question that he presented to her in the prior film of the new franchise in which he asks “If I decide to retire from fighting crime would you be mine forever?”.
Things become complicated when a high rank political figure by the name of Harvey Dent (dubbed Two Face by his supposed friends due to the fact his decisions rely on the flip of a coin he carries with him) has become the new man in Dawes life which ignites sparks of jealousy between Wayne & Dent engaging in a war of wits, as this is transpiring a new villain calling himself The Joker takes the city by storm and establishes himself as a ruthless psychopath with a knack for anarchy and “upsetting the system” as he puts it.
Ledgers final performance on screen before passing away at the early age of 28 and just before the film went into the early stages of editing is a tour de force and only reminds us of the complete tragedy that his untimely death was. This man was going to go on to be the main attraction of his medium but went out while he was just starting to scrape the surface of his peak.
The Joker shown in this story is my favorite part of the feature and its obvious Nolan installed beliefs (albeit more sinister and twisted) of the punk rock scene of the late seventies into his character traits, in a scene where The Joker visits a disfigured Harvey Dent (that was entirely Joker’s fault) he is seen dressed in nurses clothing and a wig while throughout the film can be heard spouting intelligent but sadistic psychological based whims at his opponents, anyone familiar with anti-commercial advocates such as The Sex Pistols “John Lydon” or other influential society shaking figures (who told the truth at the disapproval of certain politicians) such as Nirvana’s “Kurt Cobain” will right away catch on to what The Joker in The Dark Knight is about, in a way he’s the anti hero you want to love but cant because of his despicable actions like the several scenes in which he explains why his smile is permanently scarred to his face, each time he offers a different back story and the more he explains it to his victims the more unsettling it becomes.
In closing I highly recommend this to anyone wanting to indulge themselves in a 152 minute roller coaster ride of all kinds of emotions, you won’t be sorry and I have a feeling we’ll be looking back at this one for years to come as in my opinion it truly is the most mature piece of work the “comic book to film” genre has produced.
****1/2 out of *****
Remember Tim Burton’s 1989 big screen adaptation of Batman? It left an imprint on my childhood and to this day is one of my favorites, while it wasn’t the greatest film ever produced it was indeed a turning point in major studios accepting directors who weren’t afraid to think outside the box and who were able to paint their own canvas of storytelling just as effectively as already established heavyweights without alienating the audience.
Just like Burton’s Batman got people re-interested in one of the most durable and ageless comic book titles in existence director Christopher Nolan’s “The Dark Knight” has done the same but with such haunting reality that it may have leaped out of its own restrictions to become on par with the best of the best that film has to offer, starring the terrific “Christian Bale” as the caped crusader, “Maggie Gyllenhaal” substituting in place of “Katie Holmes” as Rachel Dawes (the only character not in the original comic book story arc) and an impressive lineup of villains with “Heath Ledger” as The Joker and “Aaron Eckhart” as Two Face, the mood is exactly like the title indicates; dark… and brooding.
I was very surprised at its subtle ability to move me, from the wide exterior shots of Gotham’s finest surveying his city, the excellent performance of Heath Ledger’s portrayal as the insanely disturbed Joker to the replication of real life issues that we deal with on a daily basis such as twenty four hour news cable outfits spreading fear by reporting up to the minute information on every kind of political spectrum available, it has everything going for it.
After the opening scene that involved the Jokers goons robbing a bank shooting each other one after the other until there is only one left in a comedic fashion (obvious tip of the hat to the infamous Kids in the Hall sketch; “Seven Things to Do”) it picks up where “Batman Begins” left off with Bruce Wayne still early in his career as a crime fighter and still collecting his thoughts while evaluating if this is truly what he wants to do with his life, he quickly realizes that the good deeds he has taken up are affecting his health like a few scenes in particular where butler Alfred is attending to the wear and tear his master has received from his late night crime fighting escapades while another has Wayne falling asleep in an important business meeting.
Wayne also finds his devotion to cleaning up the streets is not appreciated as much as he had hoped by the people surrounding him causing friction between the media and the focal point of his life; Rachel Dawes, the on screen love interest of the hero, she plays a crucial part in Batman’s motives throughout as he’s depending on an answer to a question that he presented to her in the prior film of the new franchise in which he asks “If I decide to retire from fighting crime would you be mine forever?”.
Things become complicated when a high rank political figure by the name of Harvey Dent (dubbed Two Face by his supposed friends due to the fact his decisions rely on the flip of a coin he carries with him) has become the new man in Dawes life which ignites sparks of jealousy between Wayne & Dent engaging in a war of wits, as this is transpiring a new villain calling himself The Joker takes the city by storm and establishes himself as a ruthless psychopath with a knack for anarchy and “upsetting the system” as he puts it.
Ledgers final performance on screen before passing away at the early age of 28 and just before the film went into the early stages of editing is a tour de force and only reminds us of the complete tragedy that his untimely death was. This man was going to go on to be the main attraction of his medium but went out while he was just starting to scrape the surface of his peak.
The Joker shown in this story is my favorite part of the feature and its obvious Nolan installed beliefs (albeit more sinister and twisted) of the punk rock scene of the late seventies into his character traits, in a scene where The Joker visits a disfigured Harvey Dent (that was entirely Joker’s fault) he is seen dressed in nurses clothing and a wig while throughout the film can be heard spouting intelligent but sadistic psychological based whims at his opponents, anyone familiar with anti-commercial advocates such as The Sex Pistols “John Lydon” or other influential society shaking figures (who told the truth at the disapproval of certain politicians) such as Nirvana’s “Kurt Cobain” will right away catch on to what The Joker in The Dark Knight is about, in a way he’s the anti hero you want to love but cant because of his despicable actions like the several scenes in which he explains why his smile is permanently scarred to his face, each time he offers a different back story and the more he explains it to his victims the more unsettling it becomes.
In closing I highly recommend this to anyone wanting to indulge themselves in a 152 minute roller coaster ride of all kinds of emotions, you won’t be sorry and I have a feeling we’ll be looking back at this one for years to come as in my opinion it truly is the most mature piece of work the “comic book to film” genre has produced.
****1/2 out of *****
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