“my movie”

Recently, many people have inquired about the movie I wrote and filmed titled “The Fiction.” I have skated around the film and how the journey personally has changed me and fulfilled a dream in many blog posts. But I definitely wanted to dedicate a certain type of structure and concise content to it. I just feel it deserves that sort of intention.

A month or so ago, I started writing a blog post about my story with the film and how it came to be and my feelings on it etc. I was planning to package all this information nice and neatly into a post. The problem with that is by midway through the first section “a visit with my agent” I was at 3500 words. It’s pretty clear that even if this is going to be a blog post, it will be broken up into many sections. I tried seeing what I could trim to make things a little more “acceptable” but honestly, this isn’t something I want to trim. I want to put into words what happened and how I honestly felt throughout the process. If for no one else, for myself.

Since the length is currently much longer than I was expecting, I also toyed around with the idea of making it a book and publishing it on kindle. I’m not sure if anyone would really be interested in how I made a film and my thought process throughout the journey. So I really have to take some time and see if this would appeal to many or just me.

Either way, the beginnings of writing about it has been an awesome experience, and I hope others enjoy reading it when it is ready in whatever form it comes in.

#6 The Godfather

Top 10’s – FAVORITE FILMS

#6 – The Godfather – FRANCIS FORD COPPOLA, 1972

What’s to state about The Godfather that hasn’t been clearly pitched from one mouth to one’s ears? But here I go jumping into a crowded sea of opinions…

The single most shocking aspect to me is how people take The Godfather for face value. I imagine because The Godfather’s face value is so boldly printed. But even if you cant decipher Coppola’s epic metaphor for the corrupting effects of capitalism and the falsehood of the American Dream, you will still come away with one of the most memorable cinematic experiences of your life. The Godfather is an enthralling film with its rich and deliberately paced screenplay that boasts line after line of memorable dialogue, deep and engaging performances and characters studies, contrasting cinematography by the great Gordon Willis of dark and menacing interiors and bright and beautiful exteriors, realistic art direction that brings the 40’s and 50’s to life and a haunting score by Nino Rota, with Carmine Coppola leading the band in the wedding sequence and playing the lovely piano tune during the mattresses montage. This grand fresco of America is a spectacular meld of blockbuster entertainment and masterful artistry, making it accessible to both film buffs and casual viewers.

While watching the film as a I grow older in my movie watching life, I began to noticed many deep similarities with Luchino Visconti’s celebrated adaptation of The Leopard (an acknowledged influence on the film). Not only do they share some of the same themes, were both shot in Sicily, have large scale party sequences (the opening wedding and ballroom finale) and had the same composer, but many characters in The Godfather seem to be directly inspired by the earlier film, including:

The Corleone Family = The Salina Family.

Both are patriarchal families fighting to keep their power, values and influence alive as the newer and younger generation threatens to replace them, against an epic and period backdrop (the Risorgimento and post war America).

Don Vito Corleone = Don Fabrizio Corbera.

They are both powerful and influential heads of their respective families, and the two see their power and influence going down the drain as their older and more traditional ways of doing things are being replaced. In Vito’s case, it is the emergence of drugs, which goes against his every philosophy, and his refusal to aid Sollozzo very nearly costs him his life. In Fabrizio’s case, it is the rise of the middle class and the fall of the aristocracy.

Michael Corleone = Tancredi Falconeri.

Both see that the Dons’ way of doing things are finished and adapt to the changing times. Tancredi sides with the middle class to maintain his influence, while Michael sees the uglier side of America and becomes a ruthless and coldhearted monster to maintain his power.

In true Coppola fashion, The Godfather shows how honor, respect and morals were replaced with large scale corruption and violence throughout America. Hollywood, the justice system, the government and religion, among others, are not spared and are shown to be corrupt from the inside out. The irony here is that while Vito is a mob boss, he has a soul and stands by his beliefs and his family, while the “legitimate” organizations have sold their souls and will do whatever it takes to satisfy their greed. One of the most brilliant scenes in the film is when Clemenza and Rocco murder Paulie. The Statue of Liberty is faintly visible in the background, a symbol of the two faces of America. Even in Sicily, symbolic of a world untouched by the greed and corruption, where Michael attempts to start a new life with Apollonia, who is innocent and pure, they are destroyed by capitalism’s reach. With nothing left to live for, a changed Michael begins working for his father and becomes the don. I still think that Part II has more of an impact, but Coppola gives us a true and unforgettable portrait of the 20th century that is even more relevant today than it was upon release.

The Godfather, and the same goes for Part II, has the best cast ever. Marlon Brando‘s central performance is justly imitated, and he has that huge presence that only a few actors have achieved. This proves to be the film’s biggest downfall, as the film takes a huge nosedive when he is shot down in the street and has no speaking lines for the next 75 minutes. But Al Pacino, James Caan, Robert Duvall, Richard S. Castellano and Abe Vigoda fill the big hole left by Brando and give outstanding performances. Caan, playing the role of Sonny Corleone, taps into the beast that De Niro found in Raging Bull, and his performance is a masterpiece of kinetic energy. There are also moments of tenderness, such as when he comforts his wife and sister, that allow us to sympathize with him more easily, as well as adding more depth to his character. Robert Duvall is the exact opposite of Sonny as Tom Hagen, the calm and calculating consigliere and unofficially adopted son of Vito. He is very likeable and charming, while very deserving of respect. Castellano and Abe Vigoda play Vito’s two capos, Peter Clemenza and Salvatore Tessio. Castellano is loyal, humorous and very deadly, while Vigoda is more strategic and level headed. Most people say that Pacino’s performance in Part II is his greatest, but I think he gives an equally mesmerizing performance in Part I. Considering that this was only his third performance for the screen and that he has to subtly transform from a loving and caring man who is an outsider to the cold blooded killer that he becomes, I’d say he does a remarkable job. Talia Shire and Diane Keaton don’t get a lot of screen time, nor do they make a significant impression until Part II, but they do a fine job with what they are given.

The final conversation between Michael and Vito and Vito’s subsequent death scene never fail to make my jaw drop every time I watch the film. Their acting is so amazing that you don’t even think that they are acting at all. They have literally become the characters, and I have a feeling that even Robert Bresson would have been proud. Brando gives the impression of a man who is content with his life and family and has found peace with himself. Also, notice how the lighting is exceptionally similar to the Sicily sequences, as if the don has returned to his roots. Vito finds happiness, while Michael is the opposite.

Much of the film’s power comes from the cinematography by Gordon Willis. The gloomy darkness of the Corleone compound hints at the dark business that goes on underneath. These interiors are often framed through doors and windows to illustrate how the men live in two worlds. Willis also uses the entire depth of field to strengthen the narrative, themes and characters, such as when Sonny’s wife spots him leaving with the maid of honor in the background while she is in the foreground. As with the Leopard, the Sicilian scenes are shot and lit to appear as a romantic and mystical, almost fantastical place that heavily contrasts to the cold, bleak and somber look of New York. When coupled with Rota’s gentle love theme the sound and images unite like peanut butter and jelly.

The studio wanted a low budget B movie gangster picture, and Coppola wanted The Leopard. Despite the low budget, Coppola still found room for his artistic expression and managed to give the film an epic feel to it. The metaphorical capitalism content is hidden between all the action and drama. I’ve read the annotated script and his notes for every single scene, and it shows how he used all the departments to his advantage. Plus, he also learned to use every opportunity to externalize the character’s emotions and take advantage of problems with the production and lucky accidents and work them into the narrative. His and Mario Puzo’s screenplay is just about perfect, balancing action with character, but there are scenes from the shooting script that were never shot but should have been, and scenes that were deleted that should not have been. They would have slowed the pace down, but from what I read they would have added so much to the film.

The Godfather is among the best films ever if only for the fact that it is able to suck you in completely to this world. It is long but never plods and always builds with every scene. Indeed, each early scene is somewhat of a set-up for something later. The actors all play it so straight and smooth, everything is completely convincing. And Gordon Willis’ dark, moody photography adds to the drama, evoking hidden agendas and secrets. Nino Rota composed one of the most famous of all movie themes, and here it seems to tell us that life is going to get bad and we should have listened to Don Vito. This film put Coppola on the map and made him a director to reckon with. Just like alike the Corleone’s. The one aspect of The Godfather that hit me so hard on my first viewing was all the similarities between my life and the film. I certainly am not drawing a parallel to the murders and the bold lifestyle, but the little nuances. The little girl dancing on the feet of the older man at Connie’s wedding. The family eating pasta with an overloaded dinner table. The unconditional love that family members show. Similarities are what makes movies work on a personal level for me. As for this film, most scenes are like holding up a mirror to my childhood.  Enough cant be said regarding The Godfather. From performances to editing it is pure cinema and all heart.

5 – 1 coming in 2014.

INTERMISSION

#7 The Shining

Top 10’s – FAVORITE FILMS

#7 – The Shining – STANLEY KUBRICK, 1980

Despite its massive popularity, The Shining is one of the most challenging cinematic works of all time. Kubrick masterfully controls and manipulates space and time to create an endless maze of possible meanings that defies interpretation, and yet most people think that there is nothing to interpret. Kubrick’s masterpiece completely transcends the horror genre in a bloody collision of past and present that is rife with immense psychological, historical and architectural complexity. It is impossible for me to comprehend someone watching the entire film and coming out of the experience thinking that it is just a “perfectly straightforward horror movie”. That truly depresses me. James Healey stated in his review that you “could write a whole essay on the subtext and symbolism on The Shining”, but I’m certain that not even a hundred essays would do the complexity of Kubrick’s film justice.

Based on Stephen King’s 1977 “ best selling masterpiece of modern horror”, The Shining follows the adventures of the Torrance family as the father, Jack Torrance agrees to be the winter caretaker of the Overlook Hotel. But, as America’s bloody history reigns down upon them, Jack who is under the influence of the ghostly elite, descends into madness and attempts to kill his wife and son in an orgasmic finale of pure terror. Although initially critically panned and nominated for two Razzie awards, The Shining has grown in stature since its release and is now regarded as one of the greatest horror movies ever made. Going even further, I’d say that it is unquestionably one of the great pinnacles of cinema. Filled with extreme attention to detail and heavy symbolism in every frame, and demanding the utmost patience and concentration from the viewer, The Shining is Kubrick at his all time greatest and most intricate and complex. His complete command of every single aspect of the production is supreme, making this film highly important for aspiring filmmakers such as myself, and it boasts tremendous performances from its cast and what is arguably the greatest and most overwhelming soundtrack ever assembled for a movie. It has been criticized for severely departing from King’s novel, but books and films are two different mediums, and each have their own unique ways of telling a story, so they cannot be compared. Kubrick only used the basic foundations of the books he adapted into films, and this movie is no different.

I’m not sure if there has ever been a film in the history of cinema more endlessly analyzed and debated than The Shining. Theories range from the film being a commentary on the genocide of the Native Americans (as Bill Blakemore theorized in his essay “The Family of Man”), which I believe is the truth, to an exposure of the supposedly fake Apollo 11 Moon Landings, which is something I cannot wrap my head around, but knowing of Kubrick I can’t rule it out completely. The deceptively simple plot of madness and isolation has startling undercurrents of sexual abuse, racism, and male aggression, plus there are numerous ambiguities such as whether or not the ghosts are real and the final photograph of Jack at a 1921 ball. Ultimately, I think The Shining, at it’s most basic level, is a tale of how humanity is doomed to it’s primitive nature, with the photograph representing the cyclical nature of history and the unstoppable evil unleashed by man upon one another. But, there are even sinister meanings under the surface.

The film’s most important line, which was removed in the two hour European cut, is spoken by Philip Ullman, the manager of the Overlook, as he and the Torrances tour the Colorado Lounge. He says, “This place has had an illustrious past. In it’s heyday it was one of the stopping places for the jet sets, even before anyone knew what a jet set was. We had four presidents who stayed here. Lots of movie stars.” Wendy asks, “Royalty?”, and Ullman replies, “All the best people.” According to wikipedia, the jet sets were “an international social group of wealthy people who traveled the world to participate in social activities unavailable to ordinary people.” Sound familiar? You could argue that The Shining, Full Metal Jacket and Eyes Wide Shut constitute a trilogy of films that reveal Kubrick’s disdain for the elite and their corruptive effects on and brainwashing of the individual, which Jack’s plunge into madness and murder illustrates. He once said to his wife, “Never, ever go near power. Don’t become friends with anyone who has real power. It’s dangerous.” I could go on and on about the pyramid and eye symbolism that appear throughout the film, and most of Kubrick’s work in general, but then this review would be even more overlong than it already is. Whether or not you agree that Kubrick was in fact exposing and condemning the Illuminati or the Freemasons or whoever the he conceptualized had power, you would do yourself a major disservice to think this film didn’t have underlining meanings and intentions.

What I am sure of is that The Shining is arguably the best directed movie of all time. Everything, from the symmetry, color, tone, framing, pacing and more are absolutely perfect, and I love the way Kubrick disorients us with Garret Brown’s revolutionary Steadicam work, a strong use of mirrors and reflections, beautiful and impossible set design and subtle moving furniture. He also manages to get career best performances out of Jack Nicholson and Shelley Duvall. Nicholson is simultaneously drop dead funny and ferociously mad, and Duvall conveys real fear and weakness, probably because Kubrick made life on the set a living nightmare for her. I also think it is the best photographed film of all time. Barry Lyndon looks prettier, but The Shining is much more technically impressive, and watching the Blu-ray for the first time is a revelation. The Overlook Hotel is a labyrinth of evil, and the terrifying, almost psychedelic, imagery really brings the horror and malevolence of Kubrick’s vision to life. The Room 237 and maze chase sequences in particular are jaw dropping.

The Shining has a slow measured pace, but always stays interesting and entertaining. It’s a consistent slow burn. I really don’t know how Kubrick does it. He creates a movie that is relatively slow by today’s standards, yet the movie doesn’t feel like an old film with a plodding pace. It’s constantly interesting and continuously revealing tidbits of info, and so compelling in the performances, that we are sitting on the edge of our seat the entire time, wanting to know what’s going to happen next. Personally, The Shining had me at a young age. I wish I couldn’t type that, but it’s true. Ever since that first viewing I was hooked, and possibly a little messed up. But mostly hooked. I’ve gone through stages of being scared senseless, to just enjoying the perfect camera work to trying to decipher the hidden meanings. But in all those stages, one thing remains. The mark of true horror. I’m merely not talking about horror like in films, but horror in our daily lives. Kubrick has a way of really making me not feel safe when watch this movie, weather I am young, a teen or now in my later 20’s. But in the end, what is horror? Horror is facing the illogical nature of madness and being trapped in it. Our dreams are the most illogical experiences that we encounter on a regular basis, so it makes sense that Kubrick would tap into that collective experience for this film. I can’t think of a film that better expresses what it feels like to be in a nightmare.

#8 Signs

Top 10’s – FAVORITE FILMS

#8 – SIGNS – M. Night Shyamalan, 2002

There’s nothing new about alien invasion. Our society fairly obsessed with the extra-solar, the paranormal, and all things out of this world. But, just as he did in his two previous efforts, The Sixth Sense and Unbreakable, director/writer M. Night Shyamalan takes this usual Hollywood subject matter and finds a way to once again make it extraordinary.

M. Night’s Signs, stars Mel Gibson as Graham, a former Reverend questioning his faith and beliefs after the recent death of his wife in a fatal accident. With him, is his brother Merrill (Joaquin Phoenix) who has come to stay while Graham learns to cope with the realities of raising two small children on his own. But Signs doesn’t waste a moment on setup, jumping right into the meat of the thing, preferring instead to interweave character development into the fabric of the story itself, rather than taking some artificial “get to know the preacher” break. Graham’s crops have been damaged, trampled down to construct perfect geometric shapes which only take form when seen from the sky. Crop signs, which as everyone knows are a hoax. Dismissing them as such, Graham moves on, but things only get worse, leaving him questioning his beliefs still further and eventually fighting for his family’s life.

Signs is a deeply personal and intentionally “small” film. Which is why it is near and dear to my heart. There is something about small film “feel.” Call it intimacy if you like. Set in a small town, in a small farmhouse, wherein lives a small, slightly damaged family, Director M. Night clears out distractions of momentous world events; choosing instead to focus on how those gigantic events outside effect this tiny, faith challenged family within this movie’s small world. We’ve seen massive alien invasions before, M. Night doesn’t go there. We’re watching how one family, alone in the universe, copes when the entire world is falling apart. When danger is on their doorstep, when Armageddon is just around the corner, what will one small family do? How did they cope, the night the aliens came and all the world outside was going mad?

Questions of faith, belief, and hope are all raised and explored in Signs. The beauty of Signs, and indeed everything M. Night does, is his abject determination to make his stories about MORE than just some cliche Hollywood plot device. Yes, Signs is about aliens, and yes it’s intense, scary, and all the other great things you’d expect to get only from a true master director like Alfred Hitchcock. But it’s also about faith. It’s about family. It’s about personal connections with people and how those ties allow us to cope with loss. It’s about finding meaning and hope in life whatever we might face. Because of that ability to entwine deep rooted meaning right in along with the action, terror, and excitement of his films. In my opinion with Signs, M. Night Shyamalan has created one of the great masterpieces of modern suspense-thrillers… again.

Signs is War of the Worlds for real. It’s your world if the unthinkable, unbelievable, Hollywood stories you’ve watched on TV for so many years actually happened. What would you do? Where would you go? What what it take for you to believe and how would it ultimately affect the way you personally see the world? Reality is M. Night’s gift, and he brings it tied up with a mind blowing, sci-fi/thriller bow.

This is a film to simply let yourself get caught up in. Go in knowing nothing and let M. Night, Gibson, Pheonix, and the rest take you into their world right along with them. Nothing is wasted. Just look at the way each moment, each device is used. The way he uses the TV, the baby monitor, all of it to develop these organically real moments for this family, these PEOPLE. The sharp nervous laughter, the emotional edge this film is constructed on… all of it pulling you deeper to make you really identify with the the reality of an unreality. Just look at the way he directs this family, the way M. Night lets them interact… the way he gets so much out of child actors time and time again.

The magic behind this film is present and intact. The idea feels familiar, even the music is intentionally crafted to hearken back to memories of late nights at home watching “The Twighlight Zone.” But Night and crew use all of that to twist you and pull you and take you places you’ve never really been before.

When this film ended, and the credits rolled for the first time, I just sat. Sat and stared. Watched the names roll by and the audience file out. I just knew I witnessed something special and  I needed to see it again. More than any other filmmaker at that time, M. Night Shyamalan connected with his audience and his characters in a totally unique way to transport us so effortlessly into the world of “what ifs. ” See it and believe. See it and question: What if you were there?

My life changed when I first watched Signs. I have no problem making that statement. It was and still is everything I could ever want in a film. Trailers and commercials expose this crop circled movie as a supernatural thriller, but M. Night Shyamalan himself is careful to note that the center of the movie is really on one’s faith rather than crop circles, aliens, or anything related to such. ‘Signs’ is a mixture of things: humor, emotion, frightening elements, and a factor found in some of the scariest of movies–silence. With pure intelligence, It is no way a stretch to call this movie Shyamalan’s Hitchcock film. The isolated location, the small cast, the tight script. This all points to where Shyamalan works best. I mentioned the word faith earlier and make no mistake about it, Signs is a film about faith, not aliens and not crops.

We all are aware of faith. Whether we acknowledge it or not has no regards on it’s existence. Mel Gibson’s character is dropped exactly in the thick of that situation. We are meant to ride the journey with him. We grow with him, we root for him and at some points, we despise him. But most importantly, we never lose him. Signs effectively evokes you to laugh, cry and be frightened. As does an exercise in faith, ask Graham Hess.

in defense of m. night shyamalan

The idea that M. Night Shyamalan is ‘box office poison’ isn’t confirmed by the facts of his fourteen years in the Hollywood limelight.  In fact, through a mix of luck and random happenstance, the man has managed to all-but-avoid actual box office destruction.

For better or worse, the general public knows who M. Night Shyamalan is.  His name on the marquee reflects that you’re not going to get a conventional genre film, that there may be something else up its sleeve.  Maybe there is a twist; maybe there is just the occasionally off-kilter sensibilities that he brings to his mainstream fare.  After Earth disappointed partially because it looked somewhat generic.  Putting M. Night Shyamalan’s name in the credits alerts audiences that there will be at least something a little different about this would-be star vehicle.  M. Night Shyamalan’s name in the credits would have signaled that this was not necessarily a conventional summer blockbuster.

For the general populace who don’t rigidly follow the industry, alerting them to the fact that the director of After Earth also directed The Sixth Sense and Signs won’t immediately bring to mind that he also directed The Last Airbender and Lady In the Water.  When 20th Century Fox trumpeted that Planet of the Apes was ‘from the director of Batman and Sleepy Hollow‘, audiences didn’t immediately think, “Hey, it’s also the guy who directed that Ed Wood movie I didn’t see and that Mars Attacks! that I didn’t think was funny!” M. Night Shyamalan has taken his licks critically, but actual commercial disaster has mostly eluded him. To most general moviegoers he’s still that guy who directed The Sixth Sense, a movie that still holds up as far more than just its twist epilogue nearly fifteen years later, and Signs, that  alien invasion Mel Gibson movie that scared the crap out of them in theaters eleven years ago.

His two out-and-out blockbusters are of course The Sixth Sense ($293 million domestic, or basically the top-grossing horror film/thriller of all time) and Signs ($232 million domestic, following a $60 million opening weekend).  And the one in between, Unbreakable, was an $80 million superhero deconstruction, which ironically came right on the cusp of the modern comic book film fad.  It received mixed-positive reviews and opened with $46 million over Thanksgiving 2000 and ended up with $248 million worldwide.  Unbreakable, in my opinion his masterwork, wasn’t a box office world-beater, but a profitable venture for all involved and considered either his best or his second best film by most. Most prefer The Sixth Sense, but both are among the mainstream American best films of the last fifteen years.

But the one after Signs, which by the way still works as a deliciously fun and thoughtful popcorn thriller? M. Night’s next film was The Village. Well, *that* one was a stinker, right?  Well, no.  While I’d argue it was not a thriller but a somber political metaphor, the false marketing, based entirely around M. Night Shyamalan’s marquee value (no big stars like Bruce Willis or Mel Gibson to help him out), was enough to scare up $50 million on opening weekend.  Yes the film was rejected by audiences and flamed out with $115 million domestic, but the $60 million “period piece” still earned $256 million worldwide.  Next came his only out-and-out flop, which was both a blessing and curse commercially speaking.

With no stars larger than Paul Giamatti and a marketing campaign that couldn’t really pretend it was a Signs-type thriller, the creepy bedtime story Lady In the Water remains M. Night’s only bomb.  The $70 million picture, his first away from Disney, opened with just $18 million (pretty high for a Paul Giamatti vehicle, but very low for a Shyamalan film) and closed with $72 million worldwide.  If you ask most people to rattle off M. Night Shyamalan movies, they probably wouldn’t even remember that one.  So while M. Night takes the commercial hit, his artistic reputation is mostly intact since so few outside his fan base actually saw the thing.

But The Happening was a bomb, right?  Sorry, nope.  The $50 million 20th Century Fox thriller, starring Mark Wahlberg and Zooey Deschanel, was advertised not just on M. Night’s reputation as the helmer of The Sixth Sense and Signs, but also on the tease of this film being his first R-rated venture. In a time when the industry was terrified of the R-rating, it was genuinely hilarious to see Fox use it as a selling point.  So the film, sold mostly on Shyamalan’s reputation, opened with $30 million over opening weekend.  The film was a quick-kill hit, ending its domestic run with $64 million, but thanks to Fox’s overseas muscle, it earned $163 million worldwide, or about triple its budget. Like it or hate it, it was another hit for Shyamalan. Now we get to the film that arguably should have ended his career, the stunningly terrible The Last Airbender.

I can defend Paul Giamatti’s performance in Lady in the Water and I can defend some of the kookier visuals and quirkier dialogue in The Happening, but The Last Airbender is basically indefensible. But it was not a flop in any sense of the word. Released in summer 2010, the Paramount adaptation of an allegedly quite-good animated adventure series was ravaged by critics (myself included), but audiences still flocked to it.  We can debate how much of that $69 million five-day opening weekend was due to Shyamalan versus the appeal of the Nickelodeon cartoon.  And we can arguably say that a better received film would have started a new franchise, since $319 million worldwide on a $150 million budget is pretty much what got G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra an eventual sequel.  But the film still had Shyamalan’s trademarked visual pizzazz and Shyamalan had his third-biggest box office smash of his career.

So now we get to After Earth, a film that is being discussed as a big flop as far as summer movies go.  Well, the good news for M. Night Shyamalan is that he’s nowhere to be found on the advertising materials.  Since opening weekend is less about quality and more about marketing, one cannot fault Shyamalan for the $27.5 million debut weekend since he wasn’t actually used to market the picture.  Now looking at his past opening weekends, I still question Sony’s wisdom of hiding his name, since everything save Lady In the Water has opened at what would respectively be considered a healthy debut weekend.

Out of eight mainstream studio releases since 1999, seven of them have been solid hits, with two outright smashes and at least three qualifying as rock-solid financial winners. The Last Airbender is objectively a box office hit but arguably counts as a miss because its poor quality killed a promising franchise. But his only pure flop (Lady in the Water) was also his least commercial enterprise, and a film that pretty much all-but film nerds have forgotten about over the last seven years.   So we have a director who by this point in time arguably *should* be considered box office poison but isn’t because his films keep making money in spite of themselves.

The Village and The Happening may have been considered ‘bad’, but to most general audiences they were merely a mediocre movie-going experience never to be mentioned again (save for mocking the whole Mark Wahlberg talks to plants thing).  And they both opened above expectations purely on Shyamalan’s name.  The Last Airbender is a terrible film, but A) it made money and B) the parents who took their kids to the PG-rated adventure only cared that their kids had a good time.  His good films were hits and most of his bad films were mostly hits too.  Artistic disappointment, sure.  But box office poison he is not.

After Earth may be a flop, but it’s tough to argue that hiding the one unique element, a director who is a known entity to general audiences and whose films generally make money and open well, was a good idea.  For most moviegoers, M. Night Shyamalan is still the guy who made The Sixth Sense and Signs.  That’s not necessarily a good thing for him artistically, as we must take stock in the fact that he hasn’t made a great movie in eleven years, but it’s been his commercial shield for nearly a decade. And it’s why Sony made a mistake not using his marquee value as they promoted After Earth in America last weekend.

With all that said. #8 may have something to do with M Night….

#9 The Prestige

Top 10’s – FAVORITE FILMS

#9 – The Prestige – Christopher Nolan, 2006

More than magic, revenge, science, or romantic intrigue, Christopher Nolan’s “The Prestige” is a film about duality. It is about the doubles, twins, copies, clones, role-players, brothers, rivals, and partners that lurk both externally in the world and internally within individuals’ souls and psyches. The film is about the two opposing sides of the coin and the obsessive wars raged between those opposing sides – both when the sides compete against one another on life’s multiple stages over career and fame, and when the sides compete most personally inside one’s self over regrets and decisions poorly made.

The narrative of “The Prestige” is nonlinear and provocative, pulling the audience along on the coiling journeys of the film’s two protagonists. Its secrets are revealed slowly, and its momentum builds at a measured pace. In concert with the film’s visuals, the story is hypnotic and completely engrossing. The cast here, the likes of which is a rarely witnessed, excitingly assembled and never-ending source of aligned-stars amazement, deftly carries the tale. Jackman, Bale, Caine, Serkis, Johansson, Bowie, and Hall are the ideal conduits for the story.

The results of all of this is breathtaking. Nolan’s film scores triumphantly across all technical and artistic levels, and “The Prestige” is as rewarding on the second, third, or tenth viewing as it is on its first. While some decry the film as offering cheap tricks and narrative illusions, it may be this segment of the audience that is simply not be watching closely.

Two passionate magicians, Robert Angier and Alfred Borden, are having massive success with their brilliant illusions. But when one of their magic shows goes horribly wrong, the two turn against each other, plotting and out witting the other person. It becomes an obsession, and consequences occur.

The Prestige is simply thrilling. Fast paced, mesmerizing, and doesn’t feel even a bit long- despite the over 2 hour run time- The Prestige has you hooked from the very first shot. The plot is so intricate, weaving together 3 different times in the two magician’s lives. This is at first overwhelming, but the picture grows clearer and clearer, but it doesn’t make things any less unpredictable.

The tone of the film is dark, and indeed, there isn’t a true protagonist. There are main characters- in the form of the two magicians- but they both seem morally incorrect. In a way, this might suggest that one doesn’t connect to either one in sympathies or emotion, and yet, one feels for both. Both seem in the wrong- and deciding which one is more at fault may simply come down to a “he started it” conclusion- but at the same time, they are both characters we sort of root for. We never really choose one fully over the other, as their is still an emotional anchor for each (but to keep spoilers out of this review, I won’t discuss this element further).

Everything about this film is so smart, and so well done. The characters are flawlessly developed, and the story is original, unique, and gripping. I’ve already said plenty about the twists of course, and the intricacies with the interwoven stories. I’m shocked and appalled that this film did not receive so much as a nomination from the Academy for editing, as it is so skilled and precise. I’m not the kind that pays attention to the editing, but in a film like this, it’s crucial- far more so than most action films.

The Prestige is personally everything I ever need from a film. It follows its own rules. Has a original story and most importantly it demands attention. The Prestige is a roller-coaster of a ride with intriguingly intertwined subplots and masterful time switching, which makes it one of a kind and an ultimate masterpiece. The uncanny feat of Christopher Nolan to manifest a motion picture, which forays the realms of Mystery, Thrill, Sci-fi and Fantasy, is truly exemplary and makes the movie a contemporary classic. The movie is a tapestry of twists and turns, which evinces its overwhelming potential to bewitch the masses and gratify even the most obscure viewers. The questions that it continually asks of the viewers can only be answered after repetitive viewings, with each viewing seeking utmost attention of the viewer. The only question that I would ask of the viewer is: “Are you watching closely? ”

Masterfully deceptive, and deviously assembled. The Prestige succeeds as a mystery, a drama, a thriller, and a mind-bender, while placing heavy focus on the characters themselves. Just one bit of advice- a caution if you will: Don’t over think it, just absorb it all. Pay attention, and you will be greatly rewarded.

#10 Manhattan

Top 10’s – FAVORITE FILMS

#10 – MANHATTAN – WOODY ALLEN, 1979

In “Manhattan,” Woody Allen’s New York is a world brimming with artists, poets, musicians, writers, intellectuals and psychoanalyst. It’s an oasis of art galleries, museums, books and neurosis. Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue” fills the air as Gordon Willis’ superb black and white photography paints a majestic world of urban beauty. The black and white images instill a sense of character with every image we see. The city itself is the main character in this film with everyone else in a supporting role.   John Baxter in his excellent biography on Woody states accurately, “While the opening montage recalls the unblinking succession of images with which Antonioni closed L’Eclisse in 1962, Allen’s use of the city as a character exactly parallel’s Fellini’s treatment of Rome in La Dolce Vita.” Baxter also notes other similarities including the ending “in which Marcello Mastroianni tries to talk to the girl on the beach, only to find they can’t communicate.” This easily parallels Isaac’s attempt to mend his relationship with Tracy just as she is leaving for London.

It’s one of Woody’s best written scripts, co-written by Marshall Brinkman, this was the third film they wrote together and the last time until they made “Manhattan Murder Mystery” in 1993. After “Interiors,” Woody promised his backers he would make a funny film…like his earlier works. “Manhattan” is not quite that, it’s more a comedy/drama than a flat out comedy like “Bananas” or “Sleeper.” This is a film about relationships, broken relationships, lost relationships. The film centers on Isaac Davis (Wood Allen), a 43 year old TV writer attempting to write his first serious novel. Isaac is having an affair with a seventeen year old high school girl named Tracy (Mariel Hemingway). Isaac’s best friend, Yale (Michael Murphy), a college professor, though married to Emily,  is having an affair with Mary Wilke (Diane Keaton) a neurotic writer who is currently reviewing Tolstoy for an intelligencia magazine as well as writing novelizations of movies on the side. The tale takes a turn when Yale decides to break off his affair with Mary in hopes of saving his marriage. Isaac, with Yale’s knowledge, begins dating Mary, discarding the impressionable young Tracy who is heartbroken. A subplot involves Isaac’s problems with his caustic ex-wife Jill (Meryl Streep) who left him for a woman, taking their son, and is now writing her own book, “Marriage, Divorce and Selfhood,” a tell all about their life which Isaac fears will expose his sexual idiosyncrasies, a fear she does nothing to deny. A final twist occurs when Yale realizes he wants Mary back, abandoning his wife. Isaac, now alone tries in vain to win back Tracy who is leaving for London that same day.

I had not seen “Manhattan” in many years until I watched it again recently, yet I always considered it one of my favorite Woody Allen films. Other favorites, I have always watched over and over again, “Annie Hall,” “Manhattan Murder Mystery” and “Broadway Danny Rose” and more recently “Match Point” to name a few, yet I always skipped over this one. A fear began to build up that maybe, just maybe, the film could not live up to my memories, so I continued not watch it preferring to savor those precious memories and not be disappointed.  Well, my fears were happily unjustified, “Manhattan” is an exceptionally multifaceted film, smoothly transitioning between comedy, romance and drama like an exceptional multi course meal at an expensive restaurant.

Isaac is surrounded by people with broken relationships, his ex-wife Jill, Yale his best friend whose having an affair with Mary who had split up with her best sexual partner ever, Wallace Shawn in a hilarious bit appearance. With Tracy, Isaac has a chance at true love, if it is even possible between a 43 year old man and a 17 year old girl. Isaac is the only character, other than Tracy, in the film who believes in monogamy which he expresses when he tells Yale, “I believe people should mate for life, like pigeons and Catholics.” Tracy cares for Isaac deeply, and though she is younger than everyone else she possesses an innocent kind of maturity, and maturity of any kind is something Isaac lacks.  His fatal flaw was not seeing Tracy as special or treating their relationship seriously which comes back to haunt him later when he finally realizes that despite their age difference, he might have blown he one chance at true love.

The film’s real love story, the true romance though is the one between Woody and his town, Manhattan. The opening montage of black and white shots are love letters to the one consistent lover in his life photographed on a canvas so lustrous as to make the entire borough look like one of the great wonders of the world. The entire film is one big love affair with the characters visiting one iconic New York location after another; row boating in Central Park, shopping at Zabar’s, the Guggenheim Museum, the 59th Street Bridge and on and on all to the melodic beauty of Gershwin’s “But Not For Me,” “I’ve Got a Crush on You” and “Someone to Watch Over Me.”

The cast consist of one fine performance after another by Michael Murphy, Meryl Streep and Anne Byrne.  Highlights though belong to Diane Keaton and Mariel Hemingway both who give inspired performances. A word about Woody, he is always accused of playing the same character and to an extent that is true, the mannerisms and nerdiness are always there. However, in the final scene of the film between Woody and Hemingway there is a underlying depth to his character, a restrained realization; he knows he missed his opportunity at true love yet he is desperately, selfishly, attempts to hold on to a time that has passed. Woody does this without any overly histrionic behavior, it low key and a thing of beauty.

No one can question Woody Allen’s status as one of America’s premier film directors, and anyone well-versed with his works should not hesitate before nominating ‘Manhattan’ as his finest film. This movie is a masterpiece; visually and intellectually shot in a stylistic black and white widescreen format, the cinematography of ‘Manhattan’ is breathtaking,

The heartfelt angst and bittersweet hopelessness of the characters are uncamouflaged even by the sleek cinematographic style of the movie. This movie is Woody Allen’s valentine to the city he has such a symbiotic relationship with. Speaking of relationships; that’s what we were really dealing with here. Who hasn’t been through some tough times with the opposite sex, that lead to a bitter yet hopeful end for at least one of the parties involved.

But as a wise person once told me: “endings are what matters” and the ending of this film is as sweet and realistic as it could get, people who lied to themselves reveal their true feeling. Tracy’s concluding lines confirm “the brain is the most overrated organ”, and how ironic that it comes from Woody Allen, in what remains his greatest film, so intelligent, but most importantly, sweet.

future countdowns

I am big fan of lists. Whether it be everyday to do lists, or countdowns. Something about arranging things in an orderly manner has a comfy feeling to me. Any hows, from time to time I like to do countdowns. So it’s only proper for me to usher those onto this blog. My first countdown will be films. A big disclaimer for me to get out there:  these are 100% opinionated lists. Completely created and maneuvered from a personal stand point.

Now that thats out there, stay tuned for my  #10 favorite film.

the real meaning of M. Night Shyamalan’s “Lady in the Water”

In light of M. Night Shyamalan‘s new film being released this past weekend, After Earth. I thought it would be right of me to share with the world (or a few faithful readers) one of the best movie analysis i’ve ever had the privilege of reading, The following was written thoughtfully and thoroughly by my cousin, Mike. All credit should be directed his way! This is a fantastic read, enjoy:

Shyamalan warned his audience to keep an open mind while watching this movie. He released a “children’s book” to help establish the fantasy before the movie came out. But the complexities of its meaning are hidden behind its “fairy tale” facade. And like all fairy tales, the depth of this masterpiece extends well beyond the simplicity at its surface. If you have the interest, the endurance, AND YOU HAVE ALREADY SEEN THIS FILM, please read on.

This is a story of one man’s struggle to regain his faith and sense of purpose by overcoming emotional detachment and repression in the aftermath of an unfathomable tragedy.First, consider the name of the apartment complex – “The Cove”. A cove is a harbor along a body of running water, a sheltered inlet, like a driveway on a busy street. It is a place of seclusion, perhaps even a place to hide. The complex itself is U-shaped, and has a pool at its center. We can imagine that beyond the pool is the reality of the outside world, the “mainstream” of life. It is unknown, and something to be feared. Night has never made a movie that is so contained, so confined to a single location. The story takes place entirely within the Cove.Now imagine that the Cove is not a physical location at all, but a world that exists only in one man’s mind; and it is completely dependent upon and manipulated by his own psyche. People have commented on how the film’s location lacks detail, that it is too simple, nondescript, childish, and unrealistic.

This is not a flaw – this is by design. Cleveland Heep is its superintendent – its caretaker – its “healer”. And if the Cove is a product of one man’s imagination, then its tenants must be as well. Cleveland has a casual familiarity with all of them. And they depend solely upon him for the mundane daily maintenance of their home – we never see his boss or any other employees. Moreover, the name “Heep” itself might reflect not only the great burden he carries, but also the great number of different “tenants” that comprise his psyche. *It is interesting to note that the British use the word “cove” as slang to mean “fellow” or “man”. Similarly, the word “Cleveland” has its roots in Old English, meaning “cliff land”, and the Clevelands were known as people from the cliffs. It is perhaps an allusion to both Cleveland’s isolation and an image of instability, danger, and urgency – “bearing a great burden, teetering on the edge of a cliff”.

In this sense, “The Lady in the Water” is arguably the most unique, imaginative, and ambitious tale of inner conflict and perseverance ever filmed. The struggle takes place within the secluded confines of an apartment complex, the tenants of which are, in this metaphorical sense, the separate, unique aspects of one man’s damaged psyche. And each of them has a singular purpose in this fairy tale of faith, hope, and self-awakening. It is “a bedtime story”, one of a particular type that we tell each other and ourselves before we sleep. These stories give us hope, comfort, and peace. We call them prayers.

The Cove is a close-knit community, and its tenants all seem to have lived there for some time. In fact, only two characters arrive during the movie’s timeline – Story, the mythical narf, and Harry Farber, the movie critic (presumably named after legendary film critic, Manny Farber). And it is no coincidence that they show up at the same time – they are the dueling personifications of Cleveland’s consuming inner conflict.

Story represents Cleveland’s fractured and fragile faith in himself, in mankind, and in God. She is the hope for, and promise of, the belief in the unknown. Farber, by contrast, is the skeptic in Cleveland. His character is not simply a dig at Night’s movie critics. He is the oppressive influence which closes Cleveland’s mind and forces him to see within “the rules”, to accept that there is no originality left in the world, and nothing left to hope for. He defines the rules of Cleveland’s perception. Farber’s simultaneous arrival represents the saboteur in Cleveland’s mind. He is the embodiment of Cleveland’s debilitating doubt, generated to counter the arrival of Story – his savior, the inspiration for his burgeoning faith and redemption of purpose, presumably sent by God. While Story is the image of childlike purity and endless possibility, Farber is the closed, tamed mind of the adult, limited in imagination, and numbed by the sicknesses of society. These are the main figures in the conflict between doubt-skepticism and hope-faith. Note that Farber “must be very good” at his job in order to have been sent to this place from so far away. He is an appropriate counterpart to Story, who turns out to be of the highest and presumably most powerful status of her kind – a “Madam Narf”. He is no ordinary critic, she is no ordinary narf. And it is fitting, as both Cleveland’s tragedy and his purpose are extraordinary.

The Cove’s pool is a metaphor for a man’s heart, once again incorporating Night’s connection of purity and innocence with water. Cleveland initially senses Story’s presence in flashes – fleeting glimpses and the occasional sounds of splashing from the pool at night. Perhaps he has just enough faith left to recognize it when it is revealed. And he finds it in the pool, as one might find faith in the heart. She arrives naked, not only a reflection of the vulnerability of the fragile faith she represents, but a vision of the freedom and innocence that accompanies the purity of childlike inhibition. Far from able to embrace his faith, Cleveland is discomforted by her nakedness and gives her a shirt. His journal reveals to her the deep sorrow that presumably has led him to this place, and kept him lost from a life of fulfillment as a medical doctor. She reminds him that everyone has a purpose (a profound statement in the context of this story and its location). But watching Cleveland plead with Story to keep his secret from the tenants of the Cove, we witness the active repression of his pain and his debilitating inability to cope with the loss of his family. He cannot allow the separate aspects of his personality (the tenants) to experience the tragedy. Moreover, his crippling stutter (absent in her presence) is symptomatic of what appears to be Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Unable to experience the inspiration, the “awakening” of her presence, he decides to help her complete her task and protect her from the “scrunt” sent to kill her.

Cleveland is guided throughout by the character of Young-Soon, whose mother knows the ancient story behind this narf. Young-Soon is the child aspect of Cleveland’s mind that is willing to believe in fairy tales. Consider that as she translates the story to Cleveland from her mother, the two characters hear the story together for the first time. At one point, she even expresses a hope that the story is true. Her immaturity, her recurring childish exit line “bye, Mr. Heep”, and even her name suggest that she is a child (despite her noteworthy height), and thus more amenable to the tales of magic and fantasy that are normally dismissed by adults. Her mother is uncomfortable translating the story in its entirety until Cleveland presents himself to her as a child. But if she is part of the Cove, then so must be the story itself – perhaps heard long ago and buried in the subconscious, perhaps a complete fabrication, or possibly parts of both. It’s not surprising if you can accept that the Cove exists in the mind of a writer. Mrs. Choi is the elderly Korean woman from within the Cove (or invented by it) who becomes the source of this fairy tale. The adult psyche finds it easier to impede the conveyance of the unbelievable story by creating it in a foreign language and from the representation of a respected but unfamiliar source – the perception of a wise and holistic people unbound by Western convention.

The “scrunt” is the manifestation of the ills and evils of society, and the horrors of which man is capable, within Cleveland’s psyche. It is a monstrous form of the fear and anxiety that has denied Cleveland his ability to right his life since his crisis. It preys upon Story. It comes from outside the Cove, from the unknown reality beyond the pool, and it only fears the Tartutic. The Tartutic are the “justice” for which Cleveland cries out when the scrunt attacks Story on the night she should be allowed to leave freely. They might more accurately be thought of as “fate”, or as that which protects the course of predestination. They are the “should”.

The one man who can control the scrunt is the “Guardian”. Cleveland’s search for the guardian is the search for that part of himself that is able to face his fear, to “look it in the eye”. When he misidentifies this figure as himself and confronts the scrunt, it attacks him. But only the two new arrivals, Story and Farber, appear vulnerable to physical harm by the scrunt. It’s danger to Cleveland’s own character is not actual “death”, but the threat of the reinforcement of his fear and, consequently, his psychological dysfunction. Consider that when Cleveland is about to be attacked by the scrunt, he suddenly awakens (physically unharmed) with Farber standing above him, expressing his displeasure with some movie he has just seen, and arguing against the symbolic purity of water. Also consider that he is standing between Cleveland and the pool at the time, actualizing a metaphor of a man being denied the purity of his heart by his own skepticism and doubt. Cleveland actually credits Farber for having saved him from the scrunt. But Farber was not the savior – he was the trauma, the damage itself – the stifling of Cleveland’s belief, and the reinforcement of his doubt and inability to face his fear once again. It is a powerful crystallization of how Cleveland’s mind works against him.

Vick Ran (Shyamalan, himself), is “the writer inspired by the Story”. His first words to Cleveland – “The light over my desk is still broken.” You can’t write without light, and it’s something Cleveland has been putting off. But a light is not a difficult fix, and Vick does not seem to be in a rush to finish his book. Cleveland sees the book by chance while repairing the light, and initially dismisses its content after observing its title, “The Cookbook”. But he is soon reminded to never judge a book by its cover (how very appropriate).

Vick’s character is at least as important as Cleveland’s. The prediction of his future describes how his book will have a profound philosophical influence on the world, and how this socio-ideological impact would result in his own death. Vick draws an indirect comparison to Martin Luther King within the story itself; and we are reminded of other figures such as Christ, and of other doctrines, or “cookbooks”, such as the Bible. Vick represents the “purpose” that Story assures Cleveland he has not lost. He is the part of Cleveland’s psyche that is capable of accomplishing great things. Such endeavors, however, expose the psyche to harsh and potentially stifling criticism – the “murder” of the creative mind – something of which Night himself has faced, and continues to face, far too much.

Whether writing “The Cookbook” is the literal greatness, or purpose, of which Cleveland is capable, and whether the death of Vick Ran is the literal death of Cleveland Heep, is for the viewer to determine. But it is a reasonable conclusion, if you extend Cleveland’s role as the “healer” to meaning the “healer of mankind”. In this scenario, perhaps the pain of the tragedy he experienced would be the catalyst and inspiration for this doctor to attempt to change the world by writing a book. Conversely, it is conceivable that Vick Ran – the “writer”, the “purpose” – is the true subject of this story. He is the “vessel” of Story’s inspiration, and the only part of himself that Cleveland can correctly identify before being influenced by the skeptical, closed-minded Farber. He shares Cleveland’s sad and quiet demeanor, his self-effacement – “I’m nothing special”. He is single (as are just about all of the main players as far as we are aware), but cannot easily care for himself, to cook or clean, and relies on his sister in this domestic capacity. Of course, he would be unaware that he has ever had a wife or children, as would all but two of the other tenants in the Cove, since that information has been repressed, hidden within Cleveland’s “journal”. Cleveland Heep, the “healer”, may not actually be the man behind the psyche represented by the Cove, but only that part of the whole that is responsible for its healing. In this case, Cleveland’s task is to heal himself, Vick Ran – the healer of mankind. Therefore, Cleveland’s inability to satisfy this obligation until he, himself – “the healer”, is healed is the true meaning behind this story.

In his search for the remaining cast that is necessary for Story to return to the “Blue World” Cleveland seeks the advice of Farber, the man he erroneously identifies as “the person whose opinion he respects”. This path ultimately culminates in a party (a celebration of Farber’s arrival, no doubt!). And it is during what is, in essence, this celebration of skepticism and closed-mindedness that Story (Cleveland’s faith) is dragged off and nearly killed. The series of misidentifications illustrates not only Cleveland’s detachment – his inability to know himself, but also the destructive process of another symptom of Cleveland’s disturbed psyche – self-sabotage. So it is no coincidence that Cleveland cannot complete this task and accept that he is the “healer” (of Story, his faith) until Farber (his skepticism) is killed by the scrunt.

“The Guardian” turns out to be Reggie, who wears the dog tags of a soldier. He is a normal man that is not consumed with, but only partially occupied by, a need for physical strength. After all, Reggie’s true power is ultimately not physical. Reggie is a representation of both Cleveland’s strength and lack of strength. His intentionally one-sided muscular development not only suggests Cleveland’s inability to utilize (or even identify) his inner strength, but also indicates a systematic, “scientific” maintenance of an emotional imbalance and instability.

“The Interpreter” is originally thought to be Mr. Dury because of his proficiency with crossword puzzles. In actuality, the interpreter is his son, Joey. The selection emphasizes the ability of children to see things with a clarity and simplicity that becomes lost for adults as they become limited by social paradigms and restrictions. In fact, Mr. Dury at one point admits that his ability with puzzles and symbolism is limited to his crosswords. The loss of this childhood ability is poignantly illustrated by this father-son disparity – it is Mr. Dury that realizes that his son (presumably the child version of himself – “I’m gonna be just like my dad”) is the real interpreter. The idea denotes the endurance of important childlike notions in Cleveland’s psyche. It also refers to a psychological healing process that addresses the significance of childhood perceptions, and the subsequent development of emotions and coping strategies during childhood.

“Someone whose opinion Cleveland values” turns out to be the shut-in, Mr. Leeds. He is the only tenant who knows of Cleveland’s tragedy (the only other part of his psyche from which it has not been completely repressed). Mr. Leeds “has been here forever”. He sits in a dark room, surrounded by books, staring at images of war on television. His role is somewhat paternal – he refers to Cleveland as “son” (“don’t become what I have”), and encourages him to “not give up”. He somehow sees everything that’s going on around him in the Cove. He is Cleveland’s conscience, his conviction – what some would consider to be functions of “the Soul”. He is the inner voice, the moral compass that guides him. Even his name is significant. But he is the part of the Cove that has been most affected by the sins of mankind and the toxicity of society – “I wanted to believe more than anyone”. In what is essentially inner dialogue, he questions aloud whether man should be saved – and Cleveland answers that he should be. In this moment, Cleveland expresses a desire to live – to be healed, and to rebuild the trust to reattach himself with society.

The “someone with no secrets” is Mr. Bubchik, the man who is unaware that his wife reveals his secrets. He represents the undeniable reality of Cleveland’s weakness, his shortcomings, and his mortality. This candidness promotes a sense of honesty and comfort, a willingness to accept oneself despite one’s flaws. Mr. Bubchik represents that which Cleveland has no choice but to accept. And he provides Cleveland the opportunity to relieve himself of the guilt that has accompanied the burden of his secret. He cannot forgive himself for that over which he had no control – the inability to save his family – unless he is able to openly share it with himself.

“The Guild” consists of seven women, a group formed to protect a common interest. The number seven is prominent in religion and mythology – “The Seven Divine Women” (in Khasi mythology), “The Seven Sleeping Men” (in Christian mythology), “The Seven Mothers” (in Hindu mythology), “The Seven Virtues”, “The Seven Sacraments”, and so forth. And a group of women is a representation of Cleveland’s burgeoning sense of self worth – the empowerment of that which is generally perceived to be weak and undervalued (this is particularly true in many traditional Hispanic cultures which are known to be excessively misogynistic). The first scene of the movie (a clever foreshadowing) shows Cleveland trying to kill a “big, hairy” bug under the sink of a Hispanic family’s apartment. In the background, we see the family’s daughters brandishing makeshift weapons and squealing in fear of the bug. They make up five of the Guild’s sisters. The others include Anna Ran, Vick’s sister (who acts more as a wife or mother to him at times), and Young-Soon, who makes an early reference to her sister who married a dentist, and who is invaluable in guiding Cleveland along his journey of self-awakening. The Guild assists Cleveland through their “laying on of hands” in the climactic scene involving Story’s healing and his own catharsis. The image illustrates Cleveland’s need for emotional attachment (more typically associated with women and prohibited for men in Western culture) in order to connect with what he has repressed. Conversely, these women who provide emotional aid in this scene are armed and readily patrolling the pool’s perimeter in the next. It’s a testament to the power of women to both heal and protect.

The group gathers together to “bring strength to the moment” of Story’s (and Cleveland’s) healing and liberation. It is only then that he is able to reach catharsis. He reveals his tragedy to all aspects of himself, and releases the repressed pain and guilt that have kept him isolated in the Cove. It is at this moment that he is able to heal and embrace his hope and faith once again, leaving it safe and appropriate for the angelic Story to return to the Blue World on the wings of the Great Eatlon. Presumably, God’s angel has fulfilled her task to save a man – indeed, all of mankind (she is the Madam Narf) – and returned to heaven.

Shyamalan has called this his most personal film – an especially significant statement, considering how personal all of his stories have been. In fact, he has referred to them as his “children”. Criticism of “The Village” stripped him of his credibility for his prior three great and well-received productions. So he cast himself as the writer whose inspiration by the Story helps him escape his doubt and heal his faith. Is “The Lady in the Water”, then, the “story” of his healing? Or is it the story that healed him? Or is it both?This man is portrayed by many as an egomaniac. Yet he has done perhaps the most humble thing imaginable – he’s created a story of amazing depth and value, but he has left it for the viewer to tie together. In this sense, he has created an incredible scenario in which the story is actually critical of the viewer. He writes stories that he would appreciate, and that a select group of the audience (however small) will appreciate. And he allows himself to be bashed for its simplicity and banality by those who can’t appreciate his effort, content that this inability is criticism enough of his critics. Think of this scenario in the context of this movie! It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen in entertainment, and I only hope I’ve done it some justice.

Written by and all credit due to Mike.

Movies & My Childhood

When i decided that starting a blog made sense in my life,  i had to configure what was worth writing about. After an almost endless internal thought process, my passions started to become clear. It’s funny how aspects of your life stay with you. Friends certainly don’t, relationships for the most part fall by the wayside. Few things have been with me my entire life. The love of movies is one of them.

Being a young boy i remember the impact of movies and how the “larger than life” feel was a powerful one. My parents got divorced when i was a weird age. Not quite old enough to drive myself to and from at my will and certainly not young enough to be oblivious to what was happening around me. To the best of my knowledge, i coped with their divorce in many ways, one of the largest being film.

There i was, a 12 year old going from house to house with my backpack full of movies. While i had many friends at this period in my life, none of them were making the to’s and fro’s to my parent’s separate worlds.  The love of film entered my life because a void needed to be filled. Picture a train going its normal speed but with no stops. Just a continuous ride. Thats how i felt. For whatever reason, movies gave me my stop. My train station if you will.

The films in that backpack started to become essential to me. No matter what my ever-changing life could throw, those films always were consistent in being present. Always there, always the same and to a 12 year old who’s life was always being altered, that was a big deal.

(While the titles changed sometimes randomly) the staples were always accounted for. Rear WindowRopeClose Encounters of the Third kind, Vertigo among others. The characters in these films became my closest friends. No matter what i was going through, no matter what changed, no matter who entered and exited; these characters remained. There is something to be said about people in your life. Your “real friends” people say, are the ones that stick close through thick and thin. By definition then, mine were people i never met. Although they obviously will never know the role they played in my life, thankfully they were there when i needed them most.

Thinking back on those days, the emotions and results alike, i honestly can’t picture that time without film. One of my favorite aspects of movies is how they can be so, so personal to someone and nothing more than a mere 2 hours wasted in another’s life. The point is they reach. In that time in my life, i needed some reaching and was eager to reach back.

Film has impacting me to the extent of making my own. The words “The Fiction” will always be very special to me. I remember writing The Fiction and just the pure act of really writing a movie felt so close to home for me. I felt comfortable and familiar. When the decision to film came about, surprisingly i was even more comfortable. I won’t prolong this post on The Fiction as i suppose future posts will call “The Fiction” home, but to not mention it in this body of words would have been a serious crime  Sam Spade certainly wouldn’t have allowed.

Done right or not, movies speak. We are all so different that movies align properly with whom they choose. They do all of us justice or a disservice. They point something out in your life or simply remind you of a past memory. They make you appreciate or repress. While the final verdict of a film differs between us all, we can all agree on one thing; movies touch us in our own unique ways. I know they did for me. Much like the characters i befriended long ago, film will never know my love for it. But that doesn’t mean i’ll stop reaching. More importantly it means movies will never stop reaching back for me. And ill be there.