On the Quality of Things, #10
Wade's 2003 The State of the Cinema column

by Wade Stuckwisch
illustrations by Jacob Chabot

Recently it's been brought to my attention that reviews of movies are typically published at one of two times: A) to coincide with the release or screening of the film, or B) when the film makes its debut on video or DVD. In many ways I suppose this would make more sense than my usual habit of reviewing movies two to four months after their release, often times after the film has even departed from second-run theaters. I will admit that my current methodology does have some significant drawbacks. For example, when I was trying to recall whether I enjoyed or despised the recent gothy shoot-em-up "Underworld," I honestly couldn't remember. On the other hand, that may say more about the movie than my memory. (My best recollection is that, despite its many faults, the movie affirmed the impossibility of making a completely unwatchable film featuring Kate Beckinsale in a leather corset and catsuit playing a killer vampire.) With such an example in mind, I confess that perhaps I should have made a better effort to finish my fall movie wrap-up prior to the end of 2003. As an excuse, I've been preoccupied with completing applications to grad school (the favorite pastime of every overeducated and underemployed twentysomething). But this column is not some sort of "Consumer's Digest" for moviegoers and video renters. This column is about THE STATE OF CINEMA. And that, my friends, is eternal. Besides, the column is so late at this point that I might as well just present it as an end-of-the-year movie wrap-up, with special attention paid to fall releases, but relegating Oscar hopefuls to a future column. And winter only officially began a few weeks ago anyway. Suck on that, critical public!

But as to the state of cinema, particularly regarding the period of release from late August through much of November? In a word-and in this way not unlike much of 2003-lame. There were some vaguely luminescent spots in what was otherwise a long dark tunnel. "The Rundown" and "School of Rock" were both surprisingly enjoyable, redeemed by strong performances from enthusiastic casts. (Christopher Walken's tooth-fairy story in "The Rundown" is such an amusing piece of self-satire that it justifies the price of a rental on its own.) "Once Upon A Time in Mexico" never failed to entertain but I have a feeling Robert Rodriguez saw more in his script than any audience-goers will. "Runaway Jury" was an engaging fictionalization of the gun control battle, although I honestly wish there was more sentimental, manipulative conservative hogwash coming out of Hollywood to balance things out. (In the same vein, I firmly believe there should be more loudmouthed uninformed liberals on AM radio. Where's our Rush Limbaugh?)

And then there was "Lost in Translation."

"Lost in Translation" was by far the best movie I've seen all year. It was such a simple, understated film that its power could have easily slipped by unnoticed, if it wasn't for its disarming charm. Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson's shy, reluctant romance plays itself out so naturally in the film's alien microcosm of interconnected hotel rooms, bars and karaoke lounges that the film feels like it could have actually been shot by a distracted vacationer on a whim. (That is, if our hypothetical vacationer happened to be a singularly gifted cinematographer.) The "will they or won't they?" conflict of the film was resolved masterfully, even if it did take two endings to get it quite right. And how about that dual ending? All I know is, after seeing all these movies about gun-slingers, superheroes, mythical powers and exploding zombies, it was downright rejuvenating to see a film about two normal people (in an unfamiliar land and a slightly different social stratum, granted) exploring the magnitude of everyday troubles and situations.

Fall's release schedule also illustrated the continued popularity of horror in Hollywood-appropriately so, what with Halloween in October and all. Quality, however, varied widely. "Gothika" was… decent I guess, although far from memorable. I think the movie was too busy trying to be eight other movies ("The Sixth Sense," "The Ring," "Silence of the Lambs," etc.) to ever really find itself. I did enjoy Penelope Cruz's performance as the crazy Brad Pitt character, though. And if you've been longing to see nurses and women in prison in the same movie, you finally got your wish. On the other hand, "The House of the Dead" was-and I say this without equivocation-unspeakably awful. I find it incomprehensible that someone would make a horror movie, in this day and age, utilizing every single slasher flick cliché in the book-literally every one, from "Yeah, a little too quiet" to "I have a bad feeling about this"-without a hint of irony or humor. Bare breasts even fail to justify such a putrid waste of time. This fall also saw the debut of the Hollywood remake of "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre," a film notable, if anything, for its entirely callous approach to violence. I don't think I've ever seen another mainstream movie that focused so exclusively on presenting horror, death and dismemberment purely for entertainment. Even the horror movies of the eighties made superficial use of a loose theme of morality and karmic retribution to justify their killers' actions. The new "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" made little attempt to be scary or disturbing, or to comment on society, or to even be funny. Apart from one misplaced Christ image, the movie only existed for the pleasure of watching some maniac butcher a bunch of walking talking stereotypes for no good reason. I could accept that approach as some sort of existential statement, but that wouldn't explain why the filmmakers constructed the film's mayhem, even at its most disturbing, to be pleasurable in that "ooooh, ouch" sort of way. I'm in no way a staunch moralist, but in a mainstream Hollywood movie explicitly designed for major monetary profit, that level of detachment is just a little disturbing.

And then there was "Kill Bill."

First off, if you already hate Quentin Tarantino, this movie is not going to change your mind. This is Tarantino in pure, unadulterated, unjustifiably bloody excess, and it's a spectacle to behold. Many critics would probably have me flogged for comparing "Kill Bill" to something like Peter Greenaway's film "The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover," but the way Greenaway critiqued excess by using exquisite theatricity in his film is similar to how "Kill Bill" celebrates revenge with a lascivious glut of B-movie gore. Then again, with a slaughter this satisfying, who needs high-minded justification? Yes, the movie is basically an exquisite corpse assembled from the violent B-movies gracing the dark corners of America's better video rental stores. And yes, I could apply many of the same criticisms I just made of "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" to this film. But violent revenge is such a classic and universally popular theme in storytelling, as evidenced by "Kill Bill's" slicing and dicing of several domestic and international traditions of exploitation cinema, that a fitting tribute to revenge in its most base form seems overdue. There's also a certain honesty present in Tarantino's self-aware and sometimes deeply disturbing use of bloody revenge as entertainment. Part of me wishes that Tarantino would mature and exercise the cinematic and storytelling talents he displayed in movies like "Pulp Fiction" with a less id-drenched endeavor. Then again, after the reception "Jackie Brown's" story of feeble love and aging losers received from critics and fans alike, I can see why he chose to return with a samurai sword instead of an apologetic greeting card.

A few notable films tried to cash in on autumn's other major holiday… Pre-Christmas. Okay, retail outlets of America, I know I'm not the first to say this, but November 1st is way too early to start the holiday season. Twelve days of Christmas were ample. Twenty-three to twenty-nine days for Advent are tolerable. But fifty-five days is overkill. So whoever decided to release "Elf" on the first weekend in November gets a big bah-humbug from me-please, could we wait until a little closer to Thanksgiving for the year's first holiday movie? That said, "Elf" was a well-received holiday treat. The story was just tart enough to counteract its high sugar content, and Will Ferrel continued to show that he has a much wider comic range than just jumping up and down cheerleading or impersonating Alex Trebek. And how can you not love any movie with Bob Newhart? On the other end of the sweetness scale, but just as tasty, was the pleasantly bitter "Bad Santa." With all the treacle being served up prior to Christmas, it's nice to see a film that celebrates just how greedy people can be and just how rotten life can get without tacking some cheery fake moral to the end. And let's not forget "The Hebrew Hammer," a smart Semitic tribute to '70s blaxploitation and sardonic send-up of the eternal struggle to save Hanukkah from Christmas's evil clutches. With so much ill-conceived ethnic and disability humor passing as irony or wit these days (Look! Midgets are funny again! Hooray!), it's reassuring to see there's a crew of filmmakers out there who still know the difference between social satire and sloppy stereotyping.

Oh yeah… and then there was "The Matrix: Revolutions."

Many of your friends and neighbors will tell you that, however they felt about the third "Matrix" movie, it was better than "Reloaded." Do not believe them, because they are (and this is not my opinion, this is a statement of fact) wrong. I never thought that I held that high an opinion of the original "Matrix" or any other film in the trilogy, but "Revolutions" made me realize a whole new appreciation for its predecessors by inexorably poisoning the entire series for me. The most engaging thing about the original "Matrix"-what set it apart from other loud dumb action movies of today-was the world that the film took place in and its implications for our world, not "bullet time" or snazzy costumes. "Reloaded" was obese with self-indulgence, but there were still enough eccentricities and enigmas tucked into the far corners of the Matrix to keep it interesting-at least until some of those questions could hopefully be addressed or further developed in the trilogy's closing chapter. "Revolutions," on the other hand, was like watching a small child complete an intricate model, then gleefully smash it with a hammer. Removing the series from the virtual world of the Matrix only showed how boring and derivative all the movie's characters are outside of their slick hacker avatars. And since most of the battle for Zion revolved around recently introduced characters with no distinctive personalities, for me the epic clutter of the battle sequences was like watching firewood burn. (Oh, I'm sorry, "Tough Chick," "Salty Veteran" and "Brave Kid" were incredibly engaging characters, I apologize for ever even contemplating the previous statement.) Successful franchises like James Bond, the original "Star Wars" trilogy or the "Indiana Jones" movies remain memorable in no small part due to the audience's engagement with the characters. They may not have been the most original heroes and villains, but they were developed fully enough to seem more human. As for the Matrix, what really happened between Morpheus and Niobe, aside from some romantic ambiguity? What exactly makes Commander Lock such a prick? How does Trinity take her martini? Does Neo hate snakes? And why should I give a shit?

In assessing 2003 at the movies as a whole, I can't help but be disappointed. Some worthwhile films relegated to the art house circuit, like "Lost in Translation" or "Bubba Ho-Tep" might justify the year's consumption of celluloid as a whole. And with blockbusters like "Pirates of the Caribbean," "X-2," "Return of the King" or even "Terminator 3" in theaters, it's tough to write off the year as a whole. Still, the footage wasted on films as feeble as "Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle," as deplorable as "Hollywood Homicide" and as forgettable as just about anything else that made it to a multiplex forces me to think twice. Look, I'm not that tough a moviegoer to satisfy. Given a choice between "The Fast Runner" and "Cradle 2 The Grave," I'd choose the latter most days and never feel worse for the endeavor. (I've never seen "The Fast Runner," so please don't interpret that as a judgement of quality.) But seriously, who's going to remember "Dreamcatcher" or "Phone Booth" or "The Core" in two years? There was a time where I would watch just about any sort of movie, if I could do it for less than six dollars. But this past year has made me so sick of Hollywood's contentment to be bland and insipid that I'd rather stay home and stare at the fish tank than see another CGI car do somersaults over another green-screened comic book hero's head. It's possible that Hollywood has been cranking out a similar volume of lackluster product for years, and I just never noticed because I saw fewer movies. Either way, I think I will definitely be staying home more evenings and weekends in 2004. The glut of garbage I saw in 2003 disgusts me so thoroughly that I'm literally sick of movies in general. Sorry, Hollywood, but my resolution for 2004 is to go on a cinema diet. At least until there's something other than junk food on the menu.

-January 15, 2004