The Eel (Unagi, 1997)

One of my favorite actors is Koji Yakusho. He has a way of melting into his characters and becoming them in a very basic, natural manner. I hadn't realized he was in Unagi, (or had forgotten), so I was pleasantly surprised to witness another brilliant yet subdued performance on his part. Brilliant in 1997's Cure, acclaimed for his role in 1999's Charisma, 2000's Korei, his brief appearance in 2001's horror masterpiece Kairo, a Jeremy Irons-like duplicitous role in 2003's Doppelganger, his resume is one of the best. This was the first non-horror film I've seen of his. In Unagi, he plays Takuro, a white-collar salaryman who works in the city and resides in a small countryside village with his beautiful wife named Emiko. He has a long commute to and from his job and a seemingly dull or uneventful job (although we only get a minimal glimpse of it at the very beginning of the film). On a regular basis, he joins friends, acquaintances and perhaps colleagues to fish the sea on a pier outside of the close-knit village.

Takuro squeezes onto the same train everyday, probably in the same car... well, you get the idea of a regimented lifestyle, but one Takuro seems to willingly get by with. One particular day on the trip home, he pulls an anonymous note from his pocket and reads that his wife has been having an affair, usually whilst he is fishing. I wondered why the movie didn't set the affair to coincide with him being at work, but it makes more sense when you see it. He makes his walk down the narrow road to his home and greets his smiling wife. He ditches his suit , accepts a prepared, boxed dinner (lovingly wrapped) and leaves per usual for much fishing. It's eerie to hear Emiko ask "How long will you be gone?" as a viewer because we obviously know what's happening. Takuro doesn't miss a beat and responds that he'll 'be gone as long as usual'. Takuro spends a shorter time at the pier tan usual and bids the others farewell. On the way, he reminisces about the anonymous note; it also mentions what type and color the man arrived in. When he arrives to his home, he does find a white sedan parked and half-covered with brush next to the house. He sneaks around the house to a window and peeks through the window. What follows is the reason he's sent to prison, where (at another unknown point) he catches and begins to confide in an eel (he's lost all trust in people) which he keeps in a prison fountain with help from a few guards. The guards allow him to keep the eel when his parole officer assumes custody of Takuro upon his release. Takuro begins to reestablish himself by purchasing a rundown barber shop in a tiny coastal town full of interesting characters and soon a mysterious woman enters the town. She brings a mix of disruption, controversy and maybe hope to the residents of the small coastal town and Takuro himself.

To Unagi's benefit (or not), the story is told with an array of styles. It doesn't stray form it's intention to take Takuros plight seriously, but at times, it seemed to go off on a tangent concerning other characters. I believe this was detrimental to bringing Takuro's redemption to fruition. I'm not saying that developing the other characters is a mistake, I'm just saying that in this case it worked against a complete resolution. Hell, for all I know, that could of been the objective all along; for the ending to remain open-ended and unresolved fully. With characters like Akira Emoto's character Tamotsu (Maborosi, Doppelganger) as Takuro's level-headed, wise, father figure-type new friend, could conceivably live on past the ending. The film as a whole has that sort of natural feel to it and an uncanny sense of taking place in two different eras. Add a touch of hilarity now and then to ease the dramatic air and this turns out to be a surprisingly great movie.

Piano Man (1996)

Boy, how do you say "train wreck" in Korean? What began with the makings of a good detective thriller, turned sour on a dime within the first half-hour of the movie. Piano Man begins with detectives ducking in & out of the inky folds of a rain-soaked night. They gather, under a canopy of umbrellas, beside a makeshift grave in a vacant gravel pit to study a horribly disfigured corpse. The detectives argue about who will take the lead in the case and whether or not they should wait for the forensics team, shouting at one another for their general incompetence or for ignoring the benefits a parallel investigation with the other departments will have for the case in hand. (Chaos during an investigation being a reoccurring theme in Korean Detective Thrillers.) When the body arrives at the morgue, the detectives discover that the killer left very little in the way of clues by scalding the face, yanking any dental work, skinning the fingertips and last but not least, stitching the victim's eyelids to it's forehead so they could watch! The investigation seemingly abandons any effort to I.D. the body and turns to a small, elegant, toy player-piano shoved into the chest cavity, where the heart had been ripped out. The killer initiates contact with one Detective Mi-ran (Seung-yeon Lee; eight years before starring in 3-Iron) to, for whatever reason, give her clues to help catch him. She receives that victim's heart wrapped as a gift, with a short note simply signed "PM". Yep, you guessed it; Piano Man. The lead on the case, Detective Yang, joins forces with Mi-ran on the case. But he has to battle his wanna-be detective son Jin-woo's interest, nay fascination with the case, his own alcoholism and a younger crop of detectives that balk at Yang's "old world" techniques.

The best way to describe Piano Man is as a crashing bore. The momentum and intrigue those first few scenes built came crumbling down due to mind-numbingly long scenes of little importance. For example, a 25 minute scene concerning the killer's method of procuring black-market license plates. Whatever momentum it managed to recoup, dissolved away again by similar inane, superfluous story-lines. The most egregious error of the movie is the fact that we're given Piano Man's (Min-su Choi) identity within that first half-hour. We then sit through two long, painful lounge acts from a character that comes from nowhere and goes nowhere, and to top it off, she's accompanied by the killer on piano, but, as I've already pointed out, by now we know he's the killer. I also can't not mention Piano Man's sudden, inexplicable obsession with Billie Holiday, or obvious plot/set similarities with the story of The Phantom Of The Opera. But in the end, the less we knew about his motivations, the better it would have been. Sadly, his all to hackneyed motivations come into play later on in the film, which is yet another lesson in tedium. But even then, as he continues to keep Detective Mi-ran informed of his "work", those motivations are completely abandoned for wildly inconsistent or at the very least, unconvincing ones. Called a "mildly entertaining time-waster" in another review, Piano Man I'll agree, is just that.

Besides the very opening scenes, there's quite honestly very little to be positive about here. Yu's message concerning police ineffectiveness is a competent, well worn one. He also takes a Freudian look at parent-child relationships early on in the film and comes back to it later, which does add a touch of credibility to the movie as a whole. I'd recommend skipping Piano Man altogether and tracking down infinitely better Korean crime-thrillers such as Tell Me Something and Memories Of Murder.

Noriko's Dinner Table (Noriko no Shokutaku, 2005)

Sion Sono's 2½ hour tour-de-force follow-up to Suicide Circle (Club), Noriko's Dinner Table, might be a touch overwrought at times but I think every ounce is completely necessary for what Sono intends to accomplish. Both bracketing and running concurrent the events in Suicide Circle, Dinner Table (a story that nearly defies a written portrayal), is about 17 year–old Noriko Shimabara finding solice from her tired, small town home/existence in Haikyo.com's community forums as poster "Mitsuko", culminating in her running away from home in the midst of an electrical blackout; opportunity arrives in many forms. Noriko meets with forum mod Ueno54, a.k.a Kumiko, and without a place to go, is adopted into her family. As her storyline progresses, Sono then turns to Noriko's sister Yuka Shimabara's attempts to rationalize and discover the whys of Noriko's departure, which leads her to Tokyo as well. Maybe for the same reasons. Sono then turns to their father, then Kumiko for two more facets.

I've been vague not only because it would require spoilers (although I could argue there are no spoilers) but the film is told from different perspectives and gets a bit meta, lending to lengthy connections and reasons/motivations for everything that happens to the girls and their parents. Midnight Eye's review doesn't even attempt to parse the film; Mandiapple gives it a go. I'm doing this over lunch, at work, so time is an issue for me. In the end, I'm thoroughly satisfied with both it's originality and the connections with Suicide Circle. Yet, this is more a film among itself; think Miike's Black Society Trilogy.

I had reservations about the amount of Noriko's (sometimes third-person; unreliable?) voice-over narration, there's a lot, but those were allayed as Sono carried the essential narration into the other characters' contributions. Sono packs a hell of a lot into this film, including a few, not false mind you, semi-conclusions that honestly deepen his story with each progression. I dare say this could be Sono's masterpiece. We'll see.

You wanna know how I got these scars?

Not being a comic book fan has its advantages, but when it came to Christopher Nolan's The Dark Knight I've come to think it wouldn't have hurt to have been privy to some back-story. Then again the brilliance of Nolan's Kierkegaardian passage in the Batman Series is in its perceived contemporary tenets; rather, from what I'm told, the movie's deviation from source. I don't find fault here for obvious reasons. Dark Knight comes off a bit skittish, as if a dose of pedestrian might shatter the film's surface tension (it's no No Country), but once again it is comic book material. Where I soaked in every gallon of this movie can be found expressly in the wherewithal of Christian Bale, Heath Ledger (his first film called "Clowning Around"...you have to be kidding me), Aaron Eckhart, Gary Oldman, et al (peripheral characters included; with the possible exception of an ill-cast Maggie Gyllenhaal) insomuch as their respective gravities influence rather than dominate. Kudos to Nolan regular John Papsidera. A cast this good (and scrapped content?) might have warranted a run time closer to 3-hours. I'm thinking the next episode will be Joker-free... How could they...?

Other films have successfully posited the as bad as bad can get themes (J'ai pas sommeil/I Can't Sleep being the first that I thought of; and the aforementioned 'No Country') with a search for peace and/or escape, but none so mainstream, none so forceful (maybe a tad transparent), and none as controversial as The Dark Knight is turning out to be. For laypeople and aficionados alike. And this is where I saw it, btw.

A Streetcar Named Desire (1951)

Without putting the adaptation into historical context, (because I haven't researched the movie's history or the play itself), I have to say A Streetcar Named Desire seems one of the most realistic and honest acted (by all involved) films around. Brando himself seems to disappear into the role of the down-to-earth Stanley. Stanley and Stella make the quintessential Orleanian couple, for their time, as they live foot-loose but deeply in love with each other, and they know each of the other is the only one for them. They quarrel now & again but the fights are usually either rooted in fun or serve as foreplay. Things change for them when Stella's hoity-toity sister Blanche shows herself and begins living with the couple.

Stanley clearly doesn't enjoy Blanche's elitist attitude and how it's beginning to rub off on Stella; or maybe more precisely awaken Stella as she may have been before her time with Stanely. It would be interesting to know the time when Stanley and Stella met. I can imagine Stella being just as aggravated if one of Stanley's relatives suddenly began staying in the apartment with no prospects and no plan to leave anytime soon, but in this case, Stanley is at his wits end when Blanche's story (of the past several years before showing up) doesn't check out and Stanley exposes Blanche's past. Let's just say it's a sorted past and whatever the road she traveled to get to the point where she hopped from hotel to motel, depending on the kindness of strangers , she's a bit used and a little lost in the mind to say the least.

We do know some of her story about Stella leaving Blanche in a troubled situation at home as kids for New Orleans, but it comes off as patronizing Stella and more than a little selfish...the very thing Blanche believes of Stella! As a matter of fact, I can identify with Stella somewhat in that respect. Blanche meets a would-be gentleman and the entire situation blows up in many areas; with Stella & Stanley, Stella & Blanche, Stanley & Mitch, Blanche & Mitch...it's a regular royal rumble of sorts. Throw in some card playing buddies and a close-knit, cheeky neighborhood and 'Streetcar' stands as maybe the best adaptation from a play out there (with Glengarry Glen Ross way up there also).

Wall-E & Hancock (2008)

Had the chance to see Wall·E (director Andrew Stanton) this weekend, and I acted. Wall·E is one of probably thousands of trash-compacting bots bent on rearranging a planet choked of post-consumer flotsam and jetsam for Man's eventual (or supposed) return from 700 years of planetary exile; so choked is the plant, that not a single organic remains on the surface. We've all seen the trailers, so I'll keep this brief. The storyline itself is fairly simple, honest, and loaded with that special type of Disney iconography and unobtrusive symbolism; i.e. when the first specimen of organic life is discovered by EVE (or ee-vuh, as Wall·E pronounces it), it's held inside EVE's stomach, then, a light is produced at the left-chest. Like I said, it's a straightforward movie. Never mind the comparisons to E.T., I guess. Mix in some Playskool environmentalism and a few gags on human detachment and rife obesity and there we have it. It's been said a thousand times that the animation is amazing, but especially incredible is the opening Earth scenes, about the first 20 minutes; the remainder wears more cartoonish. The only other thing, and it is a petty criticism, is the Dislovian dialogue (Disney + Pavlovian, if you'll indulge me) between the two bots which is nothing but repetitive waahl-ee's and ee-vuuh's sprinkled with emotion. I wouldn't say it irritating, but a hundred times later it approached my tolerance level. I genuinely expected the many children in the theater to begin parroting at any moment. To my surprise not a single one did.

Also saw Will Smith, Charlize Theron, Jason Bateman, et al in Peter Berg's Hancock but I have no real thoughts on this one, probably because it's terrible. I'll simply paraphrase a chunk of my Paradise Villa (Park Jong Won, '02) review from nearly 3 years ago to the day:

The main problem is that it's just there. It takes itself too seriously to be considered a comedy; too dry to be camp (where it might have had a fighting chance); too base to be considered drama. It just doesn't have a home, so I was left detached and unconvinced in any case.

Had a great 4th of July extended weekend. Lots of fireworks, a few adult beverages, a bit of grilling, perfect weather; couldn't ask for more. Hope everyone did the same

301, 302 (aka 301/302, 1995)

301, 302 begins as a Columbo-esque detective knocks on a lovely woman's door. Why is he there? Because the woman in Apartment 301 was, presumably, the last person to see her neighbor alive. He asks several questions about who her neighbor, in Apartment 302, is and how she, "301", came to know "302". Naturally, as a new resident of the building, she doesn't really know anyone in the building at all. Naturally.

The woman in Apartment 302 is sort of a recluse, in a sense. She goes about her business, but seems, for all intensive purposes, to prefer the confines of her home. "302" is a lithe, almost gaunt, creature in her mid-30's who writes for a living. "301" (Eun-jin Bang) has only just moved into the space across the hall from "302" and immediately began renovating the smallish apartment to suit her immense love of cooking. Much to the chagrin of "302", who get to put up with the noise of reconstruction. Soon after, "301" invites herself into her new neighbor's apartment to become friend's and to share with her some fine cooking. "301" becomes tremendously adventurous with her cooking when she realizes that "302" (Sin-Hye Hwang) refuses even the simplest of dishes, and flat out refuses to eat dishes containing meat. "301" figures she can help her neighbor out with that. She disguises meals in order to trick "302" into eating some pretty exotic stuff, but only after some brief unpleasantness. Both woman soon become friendly with one another and quickly feel compelled to share stories of brutal childhoods and passionless marriages.

"301" also speculates (while talking with the detective as they both browse around "302"'s apartment) that "302" is sexually repressed because she won't enjoy the great food she cooks and brings her. This is mainly because "301" admittedly places her passion for the culinary arts and her carnal passions in the same category; which she does consciously and is partly the reason she is where she is. "302" dismisses that, but goes on to tell her story of a traumatic childhood that may shed light on the problem "301" desperately wants to remedy using food.

301/302 isn't exactly a thriller, as billed. Made in 1994 or '95 or'96 (depending on where you look), it probably shocked it's share of viewers. There are a few pretty graphic sex scenes (some tasteful; some not) and some brilliantly shot cooking scenes. The camera gets right in the pots and pans, blenders and colanders. It also gets mighty close to the people's mouths, at a few points, to graphically illustrate "301"'s succulent eats being enjoyed. A major theme I came away with was that a woman (like "301", for instance) shouldn't be taken for granted. Part of "301"'s story, as told to "302" through several well done flashback sequences, is how the life and passions of her marriage were wasted on an ungrateful, selfish husband. But that's not all of her story. The middle third is. almost exclusively. a brilliant and moving account of "301"'s trials and tribulations that surround her cooking; along how it mirrors and, at times, commands her life.

Along with all of this, there's humor (albeit black) sprinkled in to set up the movie's touted ending; which some may see coming fairly early. That shouldn't take away from a well written film. I suspect 301, 302 is a hidden gem that many have either overlooked or have never came across. I highly recommend it, in any case.

Drag Me to Hell (2009)

A cash out refi would have solved a lot of problems here.

The first impression Drag Me to Hell made on me was that this could be the the most creative horror film in quite some time, let alone stateside horror — the second was that there is some sinister groundwork behind the Raimi Bros' (Sam Raimi and Ivan Raimi) screenplay. I'm not talking about the demonic character called Lamia, or the crazy seance, or even the curse itself, I'm talking about the Christine character and her specific personal tribulations. Sure, in all likelihood the story is just a wild throwback to late 70s/early 80s cult horror like Phantasm, Psychomania, and House — or even earlier thrillers such as The Horror of Party Beach; but strip away the sizzling effects and colorful dialogue, and buried somewhere inside is some ominous kernel that set this script in motion.

The basis of Drag Me to Hell is as confounding as any that have ever propelled a film; a public shaming. To wit: an Eastern European gypsy (is there any other) is reduced to begging upstart mortgage officer Christine Brown (Alison Lohman) for a third, or was it a fourth, extension on her home loan — but with the pressures of the market and Christine currently angling for the newly vacant managerial desk, she regrettably denies the extension. Now enraged from having to humiliate herself, Sylvia The Georgian Gypsy Ganush becomes unhinged, launching into not so veiled threats which lead to Ganush ambushing Christine in the bank's parking garage — culminate in Grandmother Ganush placing a curse on Christine.

The mortgage device is as ham-handed as it is relevant, but more importantly it is just innocuous and pervasive enough to pass as passing motivation without a second thought. The remainder touches on every canon in B-horror film-dom, giving us everything from possessed handkerchief and a possessed dessert to foul-mouthed goat and the very act of being physically pulled directly into hell somehow all comes off as worthy.

As for the underlying nature of Drag Me, I' m sure that the Christine Brown arc is rooted in reality's soils — if only so much as to be based on the generic small town girl in the big city character, with a less-than desirable experiences abound. But all human tragedy and supposition aside, Raimi's film is most definitely a breath of fresh air for American comedy-horror, and for any fan who craves an accessible and excitable theater experience.