Revisited: The Black Dahlia (Brian De Palma, 2006)

I've loved Brian De Palma's maudit The Black Dahlia since I first watched it over a year ago, and each viewing proves more rewarding. It's the ideal blend of the director's uncompromising independent streak and the visual sumptuousness of his glossiest studio work, a fake-out work of genre prestige that is slowly consumed by the inconsistencies and hypocrisies it allows to creep out from around the edges.  With racial tensions filtered through that sun-bleached bone of an actor Josh Hartnett and its critique of misogyny played out in gazes, The Black Dahlia is often guilty of what it attacks, but that also permits De Palma to trace his themes to their fullest extent. Roundly dismissed as a sloppy mess, The Black Dahlia may be one of the great American films of the previous decade, and certainly one of its maker's finest moments.

My full article is up at Spectrum Culture.

Kiss of the Damned (Xan Cassavetes, 2013)

At its best, Xan Cassavetes' narrative debut Kiss of the Damned mines the more frigid waters of Eurohorror for stately atmosphere and erotic longing. At its worst, its longueurs have no real charge underneath them to make that atmosphere last, nor can it reconcile its careful composition with the sloppier handheld movements that attempt to juice up the action but come off as pretentious collage. You can only cut away to an arterial spurt so many times before it starts to get wearisome.

My full review is up now at Spectrum Culture.

Netflix Instant Picks (5/10/13—5/16/13)

Still trying to piece together some recommendations after the May 1 turnover, so it's another week of new streaming titles for me. I go for a Lars von Trier that still leaves me feeling conflicted, a highly praised work of modern horror, and a mainstream but still confrontational coming-of-age tale from Alfonso Cuarón. Check 'em out over at Movie Mezzanine.

Something in the Air (Olivier Assayas, 2013)

Something in the Air is the weakest of the last three films Olivier Assayas has made, but underneath its ostensible nostalgia and self-pity is a wry critique of revolutionary youths who quit the struggle because they did not realize what an impact they truly had. May '68 failed in its stated goals, but the youths who come of age in its wake face a radically altered set of possibilities, many of them scarier in their uncertainty than the status quo broken up by their predecessors (albeit not in the way they wanted to break it up). It's yet another fine entry from one of the world's best working filmmakers, and a slyly subversive work that belies its lack of "revolutionary syntax."

My full review is up at Movie Mezzanine.

Netflix Instant Picks 5/3/13—5/9/13

Netflix lost a devastating amount of films at the top of the month, so I devoted all of last Friday's picks to what got added in a pathetically meager offset. It can't make up for the mass expiration, but I found a few titles that managed to catch my eye.

Read my and Corey's picks at Movie Mezzanine.

An Oversimplification of Her Beauty (Terence Nance, 2013)

Occasionally frustrating in its hard-to-follow density, Terence Nance's An Oversimplification of Her Beauty is nevertheless a strikingly innovative work from an independent artist who not only warrants the kind of celebrity support attached to this project but, more importantly, survives the potentially counterproductive hype such patronage brings. A postmodern deconstruction of the "friend zone" concept, Nance's film indulges his self-pity but ultimately critiques it with a vivid, constantly evolving film that attacks his myopic viewpoint from multiple angles, even from the perspective of the desired woman marginalized in his fantasy into simply the girl who rejected him. It's as exciting a work as I've seen in a while, and I can't wait to see what Nance does next.

My full review is up at Spectrum Culture.

Pain & Gain (Michael Bay, 2013)

As an introductory statement of theme, Daniel Lugo’s (Mark Wahlberg) maxim “I believe in fitness” invokes “I believe in America” less than “I was born a poor black child.” An improbably charismatic bodybuilder who has internalized boilerplate self-motivating one-liners as Zen profundity, Daniel’s drive contrasts sharply with the limitations of his milieu, his can-do attitude employed only to surge recruitment for the gym where he works as he continues to collect a meager paycheck for his troubles.

Danny (and most of the other prominent characters given a voiceover) constantly references the pull of the American Dream, but he his ostensible commitment to hard work is merely a smokescreen for a shortcut to wealth in the form of a plan to kidnap and extort a particularly loathsome client, Victor Kershaw (Tony Shaloub). Victor mirrors Daniel’s physical achievements with financial ones, his boasts of assets triggering something primal in Daniel. One man’s dedication to honing his body as a sign of his discipline pulls in pathetic wages while a lanky, out-of-shape twerp sits back and enjoys the good life. As Daniel later tells Victor, he does not merely want want Victor wants, he wants Victor not to have it.