La Battaglia di Algeri (The Battle of Algiers)

Italy, 1966
Director: Gillo Pontecorvo
Writers: Pontecorvo and Franco Solinas

The Battle of Algiers portrays urban guerrilla warfare so effectively it was screened at the Pentagon in 2003, just months after First Moron President Bush declared the Iraq War to be over. It turned out to be a prescient screening, though sadly not prescient enough to prevent the war from taking place. You can keep hoping history won’t repeat itself, but 9 times out of 10 you’re going to be crushed by the weight of a thousand yesterdays.

Algiers featured fantastic production for its time, shooting everything on location and with local actors. Sometimes you need to strain to see that sort of praise while watching an older film, viewing it through the lens of the present day. Not so with Algiers; the back-and-forth chases in the narrow streets of the city, the visual contrasts between the rebels and paratroopers, the desperate closeups and sweeping city shots all add up to a convincing visual experience, even today.  This is a movie that looks and feels just right.

The film is, notationally at least, about guerrilla fighter Ali La Pointe, who has perhaps the perfect guerrilla fighter name. In practice the film meanders quite a bit, going extended sequences without any La Pointe screen time. This is a curious decision, especially in light of several opening scenes that set up his character. The second half sees La Pointe largely supplanted in focus by Colonel Mathieu, played by the only trained actor in the film (Jean Martin).  Mathieu is the best-developed character in the film…he’s quotable and likable and is the only one to impose logical reasoning on the unfolding events.

The common thread between the two adversaries, and the real meat of the film, is a non-stop kaleidoscope of violence.   Pontecorvo portrays it with an even keel; with the exception of a couple harrowing mob beatings, there is a methodical quality to each killing.  I thought the characters, and consequently motivations, got a little too buried by the events.  This makes it harder to give the story high marks, but for a documenting, actually-there sort of feel, Algiers strikes gold.

Style: 9
To give Algiers anything lower would be doing a disservice to its place in history. Very authentic from start to finish, making for an engaging and believable viewing experience.

Substance: 6
There is something to be said for being objective, but Algiers is sometimes a little too objective. In journalism you are taught that the most important question is not “who” or “when” but “why,” and that’s the question Algiers takes great pains to ignore. Moreover, the lack of a real story structure is highlighted by a somewhat lame postscript, into which much of the “moral” is crammed. On the plus side, Colonel Mathieu stands out as a developed and interesting character.

Overall: 8
I could go with either a 7 or 8 here, depending on how much I downplay the lack of a real narrative. Ultimately I think Algiers does an exceptional job of bringing the viewer into a time and place, and the narrative is almost secondary to the experience. It is very much left to the viewer to draw any conclusions from the relentless violence, but in this day and age, doesn’t it sort of speak for itself?

Team America: World Police

2004, United States
Director: Trey Parker
Screenplay: Pam Brady, Trey Parker, Matt Stone
Story: Brady, Parker, and Stone

It’s a truism in film that comedy is harder than drama; as Bob Dylan said, “it takes a lot to laugh, it takes a train to cry.” And yet, why do I feel that most people laugh relatively easily? There are certain things in Team America that most people find funny, but I do not. The way Kim Jong Il, the movie’s chief antagonist, pronounces “L’s” as “R’s” I do not find to be funny. The some three-minute song built upon this comedic device, “I’m So Ronely,” doesn’t even force a grin.

Matt Stone and Trey Parker have their original moments, both in Team America and their other creations. But generally their approach to humor is similar to most mainstream comedians (think Will Ferrell), believing that inappropriateness is equivalent to comedy. Look, I like inappropriateness just as much as the next guy, but you have to DO something with it. There is a scene where Team America’s leader demands that a team member perform guy-on-guy sexual favors to earn his trust. This is worth a chuckle, perhaps, but then the team member proceeds to do just what was requested, taking up another minute or two of screen time. Most people think the joke of “seeing” the act stands on its own, but I disagree. The scene ultimately amounts to seeing something inappropriate, and there’s nothing interesting or clever about that. Whether you think that’s a question of personal taste, sophistication, or snobbery I leave up to you.

A lot of Team America relies on the novelty of puppets doing ridiculous or foul things. There is no attempt to hide the strings, for example, which is somewhat comical. There is a scene of puppet sex, which was also done a year previous in the smarter and funnier Broadway play Avenue Q. A few jokes are pretty amusing, such as the recurring reference to “acting” like it’s some sort of special power. But the satirical aspects of the film fall well short of the mark, oftentimes because the parody is so thin as to be imperceptible. For example, I can’t figure out why I’m supposed to laugh at Michael Moore blowing himself up to take out the Team America base. What is the satire here? That Michael Moore is really liberal? This is the kind of scenario I might have thought up in homeroom in Junior High, complete with a sketch in my notebook. Actually, it sounds funnier under those circumstances, but as an adult film-goer I expect a little more.

Style: 4
The puppets are surprisingly uninteresting. You might think the creators were trying to parody Thunderbirds, but instead it comes off as an homage. At least the use of puppets is theoretically fairly fresh, and the film has a look like few others.

Substance: 3
In a similar vein to the comments above, the story of Team America seems like it’s trying to be a satire. But rather than exaggerate Hollywood plot devices, Team America simply follows their beaten path – since when was emulation sufficient for parody? Generally, I found most of the humor to be pretty uninspired, but a few clever bits keep things afloat.

Overall: 4
I think comedy is tough, and Team America has the added disadvantage that it tries to unabashedly do nothing but. There’s a good premise somewhere in this movie, and some genuine humor to be found, but most of it didn’t do much for me.

The Band Wagon

The ratio of smiling faces to non-smiling faces is much higher in older movies. In The Band Wagon, everyone seems to be having a grand old time; just look at the extras in the early dance number, “Shine On Your Shoes.” The best, most important smile in such a wall-to-wall smilefest is Fred Astaire’s. Though this legendary dancer’s choreography is a little slow and somewhat quaint by today’s standards, he brings a rare enthusiasm to each step – his face, as well as his feet, help make his talent so infectious.

“Shine On Your Shoes,” in which Astaire pairs with real-life dancing shoeshiner Leroy Daniels, is my favorite musical number from The Band Wagon. Soon after comes “That’s Entertainment,” the movie’s most famous song; unfortunately, the music rapidly goes downhill from there. There is a sort of quantity over quality approach here, and many songs are transparently crowbarred into the plot (having been drawn from the hodge podge of tunes MGM owned the rights to).

Astaire’s character, Tony Hunter, is trying to get back into stardom with a new musical, called “The Band Wagon.” Apparently the fictional “Band Wagon” is a bizarre succession of numbers, going from a typical Broadway opener about it being “a new day” to a song about hayrides to a song about dancing babies – keep in mind, all this for a musical supposedly about a mystery novelist. My bewilderment and general dissatisfaction with the film culminated in an extended sequence in which Astaire plays a private eye. While this is truer to the previously proposed plot, it is also drawn-out and derivative, and does not at all jive with hayrides and dancing babies.

The Band Wagon tries to be a great film in fits and starts. Astaire has charm and plays a winning role. The writing is sometimes good in a way that seems unique to older movies, rising to theater-like philosophy (one Astaire line: “here we are, the only animals given the greatest means of communication, human speech. And all we do is snarl at each other.”)

Style: 6
Astaire uses his talent to its fullest in the quality opening numbers, and his charm helps keep the rest of the film afloat. At the same time there are a great many musical numbers that simply do not fly as entertainment today, most notably the slightly disturbing “Triplets.”

Substance: 5
I started off liking the central premise to Band Wagon, but the quality of the plot devolves as it goes on, and leads to a confused and insubstantial ending.

Overall: 5
I just don’t know what to make of this film. It’s not a great musical, as even the best song is rather mediocre. I kinda like the movie’s premise, as well as the chemistry between Astaire and leading lady Cyd Charrise, but there isn’t enough pull to the ending. Even adjusting for the time period, I have a hard time giving Band Wagon an above-average score.

Astral Weeks

I learned a lesson from Bruce Springsteen’s Born to Run: when an album is universally critically acclaimed, and I don’t like it even after multiple listens, it’s worth checking out the lyrics.  When I first listened to Born To Run with the lyrics in front of me, it was a revelation.  It transformed my perception of the album from an overrated mediocrity into a top 5 masterpiece that jockeys for the distinction of my favorite album ever.

Well, the effect wasn’t nearly as dramatic with Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks, but it was still there.  And, you know, in retrospect…duh.  Morrison is known for being as much as poet as a songwriter, and these eight tracks are far more remarkable lyrically than musically.  Morrison’s imagery is a little more daring than that of a Springsteen, but less cohesive as well.  There are images and feelings in these songs, and the latter in particular lends them some sense of purpose, but actually putting an answer to the recurring question of “well, what does it mean?” is not always easy. Nonetheless let me give it a quick little go.

Fittingly, the first track is a thematic parallel to Born to Run’s opener Thunder Road.  Astral Weeks, the song, is vaguely about impossible lust, a lust so immediate and irresistible that the singer relents the notion of ever being with her (she has a kid, after all), and starts talking of seeing the girl in heaven, the one place where his love could be consummated.  Thunder Road is perhaps a tamer ode, but smacks of that same desperation.  They are both outstanding songs, but Morrison’s poetry is the greater here; his quiet insistence that he “ain’t nothing but a stranger in this world” is beautiful beyond the Boss’ more urgent supplications to “Mary.”

Astral Weeks is fantastic, but for my money it’s the best song on the album.  The follow up, Beside You, is a more tumultuous surge of visions, and aside from the rather soothing chorus, I have difficulty picking out a narrative.  (I think it’s noteworthy that Morrison uses the image of finger pointing here again, as he did in Astral Weeks.)  The third track, Sweet Thing, is one of Morrison’s better known cuts from this album.  It has some interesting lyrics (I like “hey it’s me, I’m dynamite”), but there is no change in tone, no thematic surprise like those in Astral Weeks or Cyprus Avenue, and the impact of his wordplay is thus somewhat lessened.

Cyprus Avenue and Madame George, tracks four and six, are of a kind; Morrison admits they’re both strictly stream of consciousness. They have a certain wistful beauty to them: a longing for the life of “the mansion on the hill” in the first, and a long, dreamy goodbye in the second. Madame George is particularly inscrutable, and I’ll gladly buy you a drink if you can explain to me why the titular character has to go away (I have the vague notion that the cops took her, but I have no idea why).  These two mini-epics are separated by The Way Young Lovers Do, the most upbeat and straightforward track on the album, and which I suspect is somewhat underrated.

Track 7, Ballerina, is my least favorite track.  The lyrics aren’t all that special (the recurring simile of “stepping up like a ballerina” is a little goofy), and Morrison’s musicianship is not enough to buttress 7 minutes worth of song.  Slim Slow Slider, the closer, regains a more moody tone, and repeats how a girl he passes by is dying, somehow, in a way that is suggested to be both slow and subtle.  I thought this song could have been fleshed out a bit more, but instead it ends very abruptly, after only 3 minutes.

Altogether this album does have some of the most daring and poetic lyrics I’ve encountered, but I’m not sure it justifies the somewhat weak compositions and nonsensical tendencies.  As always, I’m sure another few months’ perspective will work wonders.

Babel

2006, United States
Director: Alejandro González Iñárritu
Screenplay: Guillermo Arriaga
Story: Arriaga and Iñárritu

With this review, I return to my alphabetical journey through Roger Ebert’s Great Movies list. Bring on the B’s!!

Babel is in the same spirit as Paul Haggis’ Crash. Both films deal with disparate cultures and interweaving story lines, and both seek to emphasize basic human similarities rather than differences. Crash may be cheesier than Babel, but I also felt it was a more complete film with a fuller message. That isn’t to say Babel is bad, or even that the difference between the two is significant, but it betrays that Babel’s payoff isn’t quite what I had hoped for.

Drama-wise, there are a number of good elements in this movie. It opens with two boys playing with a high-powered rifle, an interesting dynamic that predictably leads to mischief. Another, particularly strong plot thread takes place in Mexico and builds fluidly from innocent intentions to catastrophic consequences. A desert sequence somewhere near the U.S.-Mexican border is the film’s emotional apex, conveying a true sense of desperation in a situation gone horribly awry. Oddly, I didn’t find the movie’s main plot thread, starring Brad Pitt, to be especially compelling. It moves along well enough but feels a little diluted; at the end of the movie I found I knew surprisingly little about Richard Jones or his wife Susan (Kate Blanchett).

In fact, this is a movie that is pretty good at withholding information. A number of plot threads wither away towards the end, without granting us the satisfaction of a full conclusion. I don’t mind that decision in the abstract, but there’s just too much left unsaid in Babel. Besides the ideas that are just insufficiently explained (the ending to the Japanese storyline has a couple of these), there is not a motivating moral or feeling in the closing scenes. What is the purpose, for example, of bringing the movie full circle when a phone conversation refers to a much earlier scene? Though there is a nice juxtaposition of moods and perspectives, I’m still not cognisant of a more unifying idea, of what has been learned, and I think a film like this really benefits from that kind of higher structure.

Style: 7
I liked Iñárritu’s directing here. He does some interesting camera work in the desert scene, effectively conveying the feel of endlessly placing one foot in front of the other. This is also a visually diverse film, jumping from blue, blurred cityscapes to tan, clear deserts, which keeps the eye interested. Babel won the Academy Award for Best Original Score, but I can’t say I really noticed the music. It seemed like decent guitar-y tunes.

Substance: 7
The Mexico story is the strongest of the four, and does a great job of raising the stakes. The other plot threads are done well enough, but the character struggles are perhaps stretched a little too thin, and they do not end with any kind of unifying, or otherwise highly satisfying, conclusions.

Overall: 7
Babel is clearly a quality film with some very well-done elements. It ended worse than it started, however, because ultimately the story lines really don’t mesh all that well. The greatest forms of art have a structure that is simultaneously hidden and manifest, and Babel doesn’t rise to those elusive levels.

Zelda: Twilight Princess

I just beat this game on the Wii over the weekend, and I have to say I was impressed. My favorite Zeldas will always be the first one for the NES and Link to the Past for the SNES, but TP slides in at third. It seems like Nintendo took a good, hard look at the strengths and weaknesses of previous installments and tried to make the best Zelda game possible. I think they came pretty damn close.

The most apparent lesson learned is the treatment of the overworld. One of my complaints with Ocarina of Time was that the overworld was nothing more than a big field. Even the now-archaic original Legend of Zelda had a great deal of nuance to its overworld; a single screen was information-dense, with lots of character and frequent secrets. Ocarina’s world, though 3D, was comparatively simple. After Ocarina Nintendo moved on to Wind Waker, and I had the opposite complaint – the world was too big, and it took forever to navigate it. Changing the wind became tedious, and fighting enemies from a friggin boat was just obnoxious.

Twilight Princess is a harmonious mix of the two and the most successful 3D interpretation of Hyrule. The world is huge, with a variety of interesting little locales. It’s also much easier to get around: you get a horse early on, and there are lots of warp locations (that you must earn, of course). I think this is the Hyrule Nintendo wanted to create for Ocarina, but could not due to technical limitations. I’d also add that Twilight Princess is a Zelda for the Massively Multiplayer Online era – I got the impression that the scope and character of World of Warcraft was an inspiration for Twilight Princess.

The game play has evolved admirably from Ocarina. Ocarina invented Z-targeting, and Twilight Princess perfects it. Combat is a joy in this game, a little tougher than it was in Ocarina and undeniably deeper. This is because TP takes some of the innovations from Wind Waker and better incorporates them into the interface. For example, instead of simply hitting “A” to do a special attack, you have to dodge twice and then swing the Wiimote. This not only makes combat faster – you’re no longer waiting for enemies to give you an opening – it also makes it more satisfying. There are seven special moves that add to Link’s arsenal, and they all useful in some situation or another. In short, the combat is both deep and rewarding. I will say I was more annoyed than most people by the Wiimote’s sensitivity (or lack thereof), but it was not a huge hindrance.

To add a final possible TP inspiration to the list, I’d suggest Capcom’s Resident Evil 4 also makes its mark. TP is a relatively darker Zelda game. There’s no kid Link (thank the goddesses), for one, and some of the palaces are downright spooky. Some of these ancient dungeons, with their broken-down complexity, recalled RE 4′s attention to detail. The overall tone of the game is generally spot on. There are nice touches, like Link communing with a previous Legendary Hero (appearing as an armored skelton) to hone his skills. While the ending falls short of Link to the Past or Ocarina of Time, the final boss fights might well trump these predecessors. The sense of style for these fights is again quite high, though they were also too easy for my taste.

Finally, there are the dungeons. While it’s mostly familiar fare – direct descendants of the Ocarina era – the quality of each location is consistently high. The puzzles are sometimes pretty devious (the dreaded Water Temple makes its return, and it is again one of the tougher dungeons) but not unfairly so. Actually, there was one part where I had to cheat, and I take umbrage to the lack of direction for this particular room (bonus points if you can figure out which room it was). But everything else is handled quite well. The game’s big gimmick, wolf form, actually doesn’t figure into the game play too prominently. After a while you’re given the choice of using wolf or human form, but Link’s Bond-esque array of gadgets makes that choice a no-brainer to me. The gadgets, by the way, are cooler than ever.

Altogether I appreciate the amount of thought that went into Twilight Princess, and I’m left with nitpicks but no substantial criticisms. It seems Nintendo is really pushing forward the franchise revolution started by Ocarina of Time, and for the first time in a while I’m eager to see where they’ll go with it.

The Devil Wears Prada

2006, United States
Director: David Frankel
Screenplay: Aline Brosh McKenna
Story: Lauren Weisberger

I love how in these movies no one recognizes Anne Hathaway is fucking ANNE HATHAWAY until she puts on some gaudy trinkets and spins around a couple times. Granted, her audience consists of a pair of fashion-obsessed…well, women, who seem to actually believe beauty is tied to how trendy your outfit is. This is all a long-winded way of saying Anne Hathaway is quite pretty, but I’ll also say that The Devil Wears Prada saw me forming the opinion that she’s really not a great performer. She doesn’t have much range of expression, and tends to abuse her (admittedly lovely) smile like a pitcher overly in love with his fastball.

No matter, she’s passable enough in her nice girl role, and the overall acting quality is significantly upped by Meryl Streep’s flawless performance and Emily Blunt’s charming supporting role. They are perhaps reasons number one and two to see this movie, which has its fair share of smart dialogue as well (thanks in no small part to Blunt’s execution). The story is instantly familiar, with the needed twist of taking place in an unusual world, that of high fashion. As a pretty slovenly, decidedly unfashionable…well, man, I found myself grinning at the ridiculousness of this alien landscape of belts, boots, and, uh…chemises (?)

While I liked Prada for its comedy, the central plot line didn’t really evolve into much. We all know the decision Hathaway’s character, Andy, will make at the end of the movie, so there’s no sense of anticipation there. And I found I really didn’t know what Andy was thinking, or what she felt bad about, or WHY, exactly, she’s suddenly so welcoming of fashion after years of indifference. These are subtleties that are handled better in subtler movies…a bit of character-driven dialogue might have sufficed. The music didn’t help matters, often blasting out cheery tunes right after scenes that (one would think) were meant to make you feel bad.

Style: 5
Prada is unexceptionally directed, though it’s somewhat interesting to be taken “behind the scenes” of the fashion world. Designer bags, dresses, and shoes are flung left and right across the screen. Streep and Blunt are both fun to watch in their well-realized roles, but the music often confounds the mood, and seems ill-chosen.

Substance: 6
A solid 7 for its comedy, but more of a 5 or 4 for its drama. I can’t tell who’s most responsible, but the main character did not feel particularly real to me, which is important with such a predictable plot. Incongruously, two of the most important supporting characters (played by Blunt and Stanley Tucci) felt much more real, and manage it in less screen time.

Overall: 6
I liked this movie, and I’d recommend it. Some outstanding elements are held back by more pedestrian or negative ones, but if you choose to emphasis the former you’ll be all set.

15 Songs I Like Perhaps a Little Too Much

I was going to make a top songs list, but it’s hard to make such definitive claims when there’s so much music I haven’t heard. Also, that list would force me to write about songs everyone likes and knows about, like Stairway to Heaven and, ummmm…Beat It. But I felt I should post something this week, so let’s give this modified topic a whirl.  In alphabetical order, here are a few songs I like more than most:

Anna Begins by Counting Crows: On a combined lyrical and musical basis, I think this is a top 5 song for me.
Corduroy by Pearl Jam: Pearl Jam’s most under-appreciated gem.
Electricity by Captain Beefheart: I’d have liked to put something from Trout Mask Replica here, but I like this old (oooold) school music video too much.
Good Vibrations by the Beach Boys: Historians will look back at this improbably joyous song as evidence that the 20th century wasn’t totally barbarous. BONUS: Girl Don’t Tell Me is the best Beach Boys song no one ever hears.  It’s not even on the Youtube map, which is tantamount to being completely forgotten.
Hungry Freaks, Daddy by Frank Zappa: Unquestionably the best use of a kazoo, ever.  Still sounds fresh.
Laika by Arcade Fire: Does this have anything to do with the space dog?  I have no idea.  I love Arcade Fire.
Mod Lang by Big Star: Vanishingly few people have heard Radio City, let alone this song, but it’s a rock and roll buried treasure. Link goes to September Gurls, which is also good.
Monkey Gone to Heaven by the Pixies: Really cool harmonizing make this the best song off the Pixies’ best album.
Night by Bruce Springsteen: A pulse-pounding anthem to the agony and ecstacy of a hard day’s work.
Rock and Roll by the Velvet Underground: Why is this song never mentioned in discussions on the greatest guitar riff ever?
Someday by Sugar Ray: Maybe there’s something wrong with my brain, but I think this is a fantastic song with dreamlike qualities.
The Mummers’ Dance by Lorenna McKennitt: Is there somewhere, anywhere else I can get good techno-celtic music?  Have I been missing the meetings or something?
The Real Me by the Who: Wow, Roger Daltrey can still rock it! Quadrophenia is an unappreciated album, but this song is a top 5 Who track.
The Rover by Led Zeppelin: Wrongly buried in the Zeppelin depth charts.
Tomorrow Never Knows by The Beatles: Along with Eleanor Rigby, catapults Revolver into the realms of all-time great albums.  Ringo’s best drum work.

The Last Temptation of Christ

1988, United States
Director: Martin Scorsese
Screenplay: Paul Schrader
Story: Nikos Kazantzakis

Wow, what a hard movie to review. As a nonbeliever in the divinity of Christ, I approach a movie like this based purely on its storytelling elements (as opposed to, say, how “right” or “wrong” the interpretation is). In spite of my best efforts, however, I had difficulty accepting Scorsese’s Jerusalem at face value, more so than I would with most stories. Much of that difficulty comes from how the characters react to Jesus. Though there are miracles in this movie, there is no debate about the implication of those miracles. The apostles do not seem to wonder how a man is able to rip his own heart out of his chest. Judas does not seem to consider the implications of double-crossing a man that has divine powers. Treating this film as fiction, it is hard to reconcile events with reactions, and the mystery of Christ with a greater universal design.

Of course, I’m being obtuse. This is a film that assumes you are familiar with Christ’s story and to some degree will not question it. It is also a film that is not really interested in the reaction of the plebs or apostles, save perhaps Judas. The driving consciousness is Jesus Christ, and his emotions and thoughts dominate every moment on screen. It is a character study of sorts, a film that asks how Jesus could be both a man and God, and how he comes to accept his own paradoxical nature. As a character study, Temptation works fairly well. Willem Defoe is a convincing Christ, and he portrays a man that is constantly caught between exquisite pain and staggering wonder. He has the voice and the look of someone that men would follow.

Even so, I found the film lacking in some ways. The effects are terribly dated, to the point of appearing deliberately cheesy, even for 1988. Perhaps a serious attempt at portraying the devil daunted Scorsese, and he thought it best to stick with the basics. A greater issue is that the film didn’t have the emotional pull I would have hoped for. Because Christ is the only real character in this film everything depends on the viewer becoming emotionally invested in him, and it is difficult to understand or empathize with a man that spends much of his screen time essentially debating his sanity. In contrast, I find the religious elements of a film like Ben-Hur to be quite powerful precisely because I am deeply invested in the characters.

This whole coin could turn on the viewer’s religious bent. I think if nothing else Temptation is a very interesting movie, and believers in particular might find it an enlightening watch. I also think Temptation is an important milestone in Scorsese’s body of work, reinforcing my belief that he is the most versatile American director ever.

Style: 6
The effects are remarkably unconvincing to the 21st century viewer, but I do like the overall visual tone of this movie; the stark landscapes befit the story’s surreal qualities.

Substance: 7
The dialogue is generally quite good, and has a bit of philosophy with substance. It’s hard to make much sense of the story taken on its own terms, but it makes for a creative character study. I really didn’t care for Harvey Kietel’s rather flat portrayal of Judas.

Overall: 6
I like Temptation because it’s unlike any movie I’ve ever seen. It is a little bizarre and a little profound, and Defoe does very well with such a difficult role. But I did not find it to be a moving film, and it’s hard to imagine wanting a repeat viewing.

Boh lee chun (Gorgeous)

1999, Hong Kong
Director: Vincent Kok
Screenplay: Jackie Chan, Yiu Fai Lo, Vincent Kok
Story: Ivy Ho

It is fitting that I post this after my Dragon Lord review, as Gorgeous is a spiritual successor of Chan’s 1982 effort. To whit, they are both predominantly romantic comedies that are extremely sparse on plot and redeemed only by a couple interesting action sequences. Befitting a newer film, Gorgeous has the more impressive choreography – though, like Dragon Lord, perhaps not as much action as you’d like or expect.

Gorgeous culminates in a spar between Chan and Australian martial artist Bradley James Allan, which single-handedly elevates the overall quality of the film. The melee devolves into a lame-brained comedic “dance” at the end, but up until that point it’s an exciting blend of wall jumps, bicycle kicks, and traded blows. A warm up match midway between the film impressively showcases Allan’s speed and agility as well.

For the fight scenes and the fight scenes alone I would endorse Gorgeous to any action fan. The rest is predictable romantic comedy drivel, with the irritatingly-vapid Qi Shu (who, to her credit, looks like an Asian Keira Knightly) playing Chan’s love interest. Even Tony Leung playing a homosexual, which sounds pretty great on paper, fails to push the comedic envelope on any level.

Style: 6
Excellent choreography for the Allan-Chan matches make for some of Chan’s most enjoyable action scenes (I would probably put the film’s final fight only a notch below the climax in Drunken Master 2, my favorite Chan scene).

Substance: 3
Chan’s easy smile lends a certain authenticity to the romance, but overall there is very little of substance here. The comedy is worse than that in Dragon Lord, but at least the plot hangs together a little better, even if it’s horribly padded and something we’ve seen a thousand times already.

Overall: 3
Lack of innovation makes me ornery, and Gorgeous is a film that presents the viewer with nothing but tired situations and characters. The comedy is strictly by the book (“look! the gay guy put fruits on his face!”), the romance is boring even in its incubation, and the numerous side plots transparently stretch out a film that has no real ideas motivating it. I like Chan as an actor in spite of myself, and the action scenes are absolutely worth seeing by themselves, but altogether Gorgeous is so cookie cutter that it skirts viewer-insulting territory.