Archive for the ‘Reviews’ Category

  • Review: The Good, The Bad, The Weird

    3

    My first disclosure is that I luuuurve spaghetti westerns, and have done ever since I was a kid. But what about kimchi westerns? I ask this because I recently had the opportunity to view a Korean spaghetti western on a plane flight. Now, as you know, watching movies on a plane is a lose-lose proposition. The film has no doubt been edited for size and content and, with the constant humming from the engines, combined with the sardine-like ambience in Economy class, a good time is not guaranteed. Nonetheless, I persisted.

    The Good, The Bad, The Weird
    is film-maker Kim Jee Woon‘s homage to spaghetti westerns, and it’s a treat. An obvious allusion to The Good, The Bad and The Ugly, it is a filmfest of bullets, explosions and laconic coolness from the hero.

    Movie poster for The Good, The Bad, The Weird

    Some Western viewers have commented that the politics is confusing, so let’s get that out of the way first. The movie is set in the 1930s. The Japanese have installed a puppet regime in Manchuria, which has taken control of Korea. Of course, Korea wants independence. That’s it. Now, onto the movie.

    Petty robber Tae-Goo (Song Kang-ho aka The Weird) unwittingly comes into possession of a treasure map while robbing a train. Unfortunately for him, Chang-Yi (Lee Byung-hun aka The Bad), the leader of a band of bandits, has been paid money by the map’s original owner to retrieve the map and thus double-cross the Japanese official to whom the map had been sold. Do-Won (Jung Woo-sung aka the Good) is a bounty hunter who’s chasing down Chang-Yi and gets embroiled in the whole treasure map business. When the three discover that the map is genuine, tensions ratchet up. With the Japanese Army, and assorted other thugs, on their trail, will they have time to even escape with their lives, much less find the treasure?

    Oh, I haven’t had this much fun in ages. This movie is a treat from start to finish, from the writing (by Kim Ji Woon and Kim Min-suk, that even English subtitles couldn’t subdue) to the breathtaking landscape of Manchuria where the film was shot. Jung Woo-sung is terrific as The Good, a smooth, suave, sharpshooter of few words who’s totally focused on bringing Chang-Yi to justice. Unfortunately, being The Good, there isn’t much scope for Jung Woo-sung to give a totally over-the-top performance, but I’ve seen him on the covers of many other Korean movies, so may have to get some of those as well.

    The Bad, played by Lee Byung-hun, is brilliantly psychotic. As his character is completely off the wall, Lee Byung-hun is given ample opportunity to stretch the character as far as he could, and the result is intense and enjoyable. In fact, his portrayal of the teteeringly insane Chang-Yi reminded me of director Jerzy Hoffman’s treatment of Henryk Sienkiewicz’s With Fire and Sword. The character Jurko Bohun is portrayed as slightly deranged in the movie and is played with the same kind of unbalanced brilliance by Aleksandr Domogarov. I remain impressed with both actors.

    But the prize must go to The Weird, as portrayed by Song Kang-ho, a well-known, “self-taught” actor. His bumbling character, with its startling mix of rough compassion and ruthless brutality, is a classic, and the movie is worth seeing for this role alone. And the landscape of Manchuria, with those gorgeous sweeping shots, is a fitting fourth character to the action.

    Mighty Peking Man produces the best single-sentence review of The Good, The Bad, The Weird:

    “Above anything this film is trying to showcase, the action is what shines the most — it’s crisp, fast, inventive and brutal.”

    Being an veteran Asian film-watcher, he doesn’t think this is Kim Ji Woon’s best film, citing A Bittersweet Life as superior, but even he admits the film is damned stylish. You can read his full review here.

    But I’m not a veteran of Korean film-making. In fact, I believe this is the first Korean film I’ve ever seen. But it’s so good that I’m nominating it as my Film of the Year.

    RATING: 10 / 10. Brilliant! Even on a plane.

  • My thoughts on Harry Potter

    4

    I’ve classified this as a review, but it isn’t really. There are acres of reviews on HP around, and I don’t mean for this to be one more. But I just finished the last Potter book and thought I’d share my biased thoughts with you on it. Biased, because every reader comes to a book with her own baggage. And that baggage may even change from one reading of the same novel to another, but it’s still there. So here are my own clouded thoughts.

    Firstly, as I told J, reading Harry Potter for me is a lot like watching a trainwreck — painful but fascinating.

    It’s not the sentence structure that gets me (Rowling has nothing on Dostoevsky for convoluted phrase-crafting); it’s not the child characters (I like Harry and Hermione, although I think Ron is a putz, and Lucius is exactly as he should be); it’s more the adults.

    • I don’t like the concept of a little gang like Malfoy’s being allowed to run riot around the school with nothing beyond bland reprimands from the Hogwarts’ teachers.
    • I don’t like the idea of a teacher, any teacher, being allowed to terrorise a class with impunity.
    • The idea that Trelawney also is allowed to keep her position when she’s obviously completely incompetent just because she had one prophetic vision in the past is beyond pathetic.
    • I detest completely and utterly the whole power hierarchy and artificial house loyalty actions that rampage through the books.
    • And, last but almost at the top of my list, I abhor the way Dumbledore treats/treated Harry, pulling him out of scrape after scrape and treating him with such obvious indulgence it sets my teeth on edge.

    Yes, you can tell me it’s only a story, but there are social undercurrents are there that I Really Don’t Like. The idea that power will win over everything (whether it’s Snape over his class, or Dumbeldore over the whole school), regardless of whether it’s right or wrong; that egalitarianism is dead (not that it was ever alive in Britain, tbh); that anything is excused if you think you’re on the side of Good.

    Of course I’m painting in broad strokes — I’m blogging, not writing a thesis on the thing — but I find the series, as a whole, deeply disturbing. If I had a child attending Hogwarts who was neither Malfoy nor one of his cronies, or Potter or one of his cronies, the first thing I’d do would be to yank my child outta there and put her someplace else that doesn’t play its favourites so damned obviously and maliciously.

    At the foundation of the reason for this dislike is also the fact that I belonged to school houses through most of my childhood education. While it may be a delicious novelty for N. American children, it was a given for anyone growing up in a British system (our son is in one now (Blue house), though thankfully only for Sports).

    And it sucked.

    Just as in the HP books, points were awarded and subtracted for good/bad behaviour, sports results, anything else of merit, and the banners were arranged on their little tree (first place to fourth place) in front of the entire school at the end of each week so you knew exactly where you stood. It’s a divide-and-conquer strategy that I consider to be petty, hateful, and cynically manipulative.

    So that’s what I don’t like about Harry Potter. What I do like about it is one thing.

    Even subtracting everything else, the one redeeming quality that permeates the books is love. Love of parents for their children; love of mentors for their young charges. Up till this point, I didn’t think English people held any great affection for their children, to be honest. At least, it was never evident through their books. Whether Enid Blyton or Philip Pullman, Tolkien to Kipling to Ballard to Willans & Searle, there’s always been a distance between the children and adults I used to read about, an apparent aloofness bordering sometimes on active dislike that — quite frankly — puzzles those not brought up in that society.

    So it’s refreshing to read someone who’s not afraid to write characters who love, yearn, lose, gain, and grieve (okay, sometimes ad nauseam, but still …), and get support and strength from people quite alien in the average English children’s novel collection. Their parents. Or surrogate parents. Even the Malfoys are willing to defy Voldemort, in the face of worry for their son. I find that one solid thread through the series to be the saving grace of the books. The English have feelings. Who knew?

    (Even though I loathe and detest the school system in the HP books (can you tell?), I would not stop my children from watching the movies or reading the books. My personal dislike is, imo, not good enough reason to stop their acquisition of knowledge.)

  • Review: One Corpse Too Many by Ellis Peters

    6

    I’m not sure how a copy of Peters’ book made in into our library. Maybe it was the picture of Sir Derek Jacobi on the front. (Man, what an actor!) But I do dabble in mysteries from time to time and was happy enough to read this slim volume.

    It is the time of the civil war between opposing forces for the throne of England during the twelfth century. And Shrewsbury, where the novels are set, seem to be a nexus for the conflict. While tending to those who were executed for being on the wrong side of a particular battle, Cadfael the monk discovers that there are ninety-five corpses waiting to be blessed and buried, rather than ninety-four. He decides to investigate the death of the unaccounted body, certain the young man was killed by foul means.

    There’s something about the language used in these historical novels that appeals to me. Cotte, hose, trencher, tincture, cordial … the syllables themselves evoke a particular atmosphere that’s half the fun of reading a novel such as this. Cadfael is as secular as a monk can be without being a civilian. Ex-crusader, ex-sailor, sexually knowledgeable, open-minded, tolerant, he protects Godrick, a youth in his charge, Tolund, the dashing Saxon sympathiser of Empress Maud, and skips prayer times as appropriate, all without much of a qualm. It’s also obvious that Cadfael has a lot of respect for women and I appreciated how the female characters were cast in this novel.

    The one thorn in the novel for me was the “pricking of the thumbs” phrase which, I felt, turned up too many times. Already, the first time I encountered it, I was thrown into Bradbury’s Something Wicked This Way Comes (and none of that is Peters’ fault, I hasten to add), but the repetition of the phrase compounded that flip.

    Having said all that, my last thought was that all the good bits together–the evocative language, atmosphere, portrayal of women–was not really enough to have me actively seek out any Brother Cadfael mystery (although I wouldn’t say no to one if it dropped in my lap) until I discovered that my favourite character, Hugh of Beringar, becomes a regular after One Corpse Too Many, the second Cadfael book.

    Well, that changes everything! Hugh is bested in this book, but his good humour and sardonic wit overcomes his obvious sense of ambition, and he quickly became one of my favourites. Knowing that he’s in other books as well gives me the motivation to move Peters’ name a little further up the list of authors I look for when I walk into the bookstore.

    Summary: a good book to read when you’re already feeling relaxed. I might try searching out the videos as well. I do like Jacobi!

  • Review: The Dark Knight

    2

    J and I went to see The Dark Knight last night and got a big dose of Kids Behaving Badly. Despite that, I rather enjoyed the movie. J said he didn’t “enjoy” it, but it was well-made. I think we all know the plot by now, so let’s get down to the nitty-gritty.

    THE GOOD: It was like watching a graphic novel up on the screen. No talking down to the audience, no melodramatic little vignettes designed to appeal to a particular movie-going demographic (well, except at the end). I found the movie surprisingly intellectual and a worthy — if not better — successor to Batman Begins. Heath Ledger was very good as the Joker, as streets ahead of Nicholson’s Joker as that movie was ahead of the old Adam West series. I’m sorry I won’t be seeing him again in future Batman movies. I also appreciated William Fichtner as the Bank Manager; I thought he rocked.

    THE BAD: Did the director only just discover the circle-around-all-actors-and-make-the-moviegoer-dizzy camera technique? ‘Cos they overused that one, in my opinion. And then a scene where the Batman, yet again, launched himself off the top of the skyscraper and I thought to myself, “Kerr-ist, couldn’t he have just used the freakin’ elevator?”

    Alfred. At one point, I kept thinking to myself, is this movie about the Batman, or is it “Batman & Alfred”? There is a fine line between being a support to the hero and driving his agenda and I really think Alfred crossed that line in this movie.

    Harvey Dent. He was a “meh” character for me, until he turned into Two-Face. Until then, the “chiselled, American hero” character (as Wikipedia described him), with his trite reasoning for the Batman’s existence in the fight for good-versus-evil (maybe because of his reasoning?), did absolutely nothing for me. It could be that I was subconsciously influenced by an article I read that The Dark Knight was a metaphor for explaining/celebrating Bush and his War on Terror. While I disagree with that assessment (it’s about a terror world, but not about glorifying Bush, imo) after seeing the movie (as with all good fiction, the movie itself is much more subtle than our news outlets would make the world out to be), I can’t be sure it didn’t taint my reading of Dent.

    Christian Bale. There’s something about the way he talks that I find interferes with my empathy for Bruce Wayne. (The same way I get fixated on Tom Cruise’s nose, Goldie Hawn’s hands and Andie McDowell’s upper lip. What can I say, I’m shallow like that.) I remain impressed by Michael Keaton’s portrayal above all others, even though I was — I’ll admit it — initially aghast at the casting choice.

    The ending. There was really no need to use Batman as the fall guy instead of Harvey. It was a cop-out, both of Harvey and of the Batman. Why not say that the Joker drove Harvey mad and he was temporarily insane when he killed those people? Why not blame one of Joker’s minions, if you must lie? And the Batman will give up his entire reputation — past, present, and future — to safeguard someone else’s dead reputation? Considering the people of Gotham (both average and criminal) had already demonstrated what spine they had on the ferries, I found the reasoning patronising. And those dogs chasing after the Batman in the end, with the voiceover … what a dreadful and unnecessary end to an otherwise good and solid movie.

    THE UGLY: The kids in the movie theatre with us. Believe it or not, The Dark Knight was classified “U” for Universal audiences, and we had several noisy 6 year old’s surrounding us, one even taking phone calls on his mobile until (so J tells me) I shouted at him to be quiet. (I’m sure I only used a moderate tone designed to momentarily carry over the sound coming from the movie screen. Ahem.)

    So, bearing this in mind, it could be that a niggle was explained, but I missed it. Which was, why did Alfred burn the letter from Rachel? Surely it would’ve provided Bruce Wayne with some closure? And don’t you love the way computers work in Movielandia? “Just type in your name”. Not “Type in your name, in the order of first name, followed by family name, in mixed-case, space delimited”. Gods, I wish we all worked with software like that.

    FAVOURITE ACTOR:
    Always, whatever I see him in (if I can recognise him behind the character), Gary Oldman.

    THE SCORE: 9 out of 10. I’m definitely getting this one on DVD as well!

  • Review: The Fugitive by Pramoedya Ananta Toer

    0

    cover of The Fugitive

    Being a post-colonial, post-WWII, post-Japanese-wanted-to-eradicate-my-race-because-Eurasians-are-not-of-pure-blood child, the one label that strikes a chord with me, more than the vilest swear word you can think of, is ‘collaborator’. As much as I like to pride myself on my ability to see multiple sides to any story, I was very black-and-white when it came to collaborators. They were/are scum. End of story.

    Until, that is, I picked up a copy of The Fugitive by Toer. By any definition, Pramoedya Ananta Toer was a true Indonesian patriot. That is, every action of his (mostly literary and as an educator) was geared towards the betterment of the Indonesian people as a whole. He was against the Dutch exploitation of his country, the Java-centric view of the independent government, and the discrimination of the Indonesian Chinese. And, although he died in 2006, he taught me that — like life — collaboration is also mired in grey.

    The Fugitive takes place over one evening and the following day — the eve and day of the Japanese surrendering in WWII, and follows the steps of Hardo, a renowned resistance leader who will not rest until the Japanese have given up. He can feel the winds of change as he visits his home village of Kaliwangan, but the inhabitants of the village still believe the Japanese are unbeatable, and they have each come to some internal agreement within themselves on how they cope with the situation.

    Hardo’s mother has died in the time since he became a rebel. Hardo’s father, once head of the village, was stripped of his title and spends his time gambling, as an escape from a life he refuses to face. Hardo was engaged, and his future father-in-law is the new village chief who — while trying to engineer the best outcome for himself and his daughter, Ningsih — ends up being a catalyst for disaster. Ningsih, Hardo’s fiancee, is the most faithful of all, still waiting for Hardo’s return, patient and gentle. Even more than the Japanese, the ostensible, mostly hidden, enemy in the book is Karmin, Hardo’s best friend, who continued serving with the Japanese rather than rebel against them in a failed coup as Hardo and two of his companions did. Hardo’s rebel friends and the villagers themselves want to kill Karmin because they view him as a traitor, but Karmin’s story is not as simple as that, even as he acknowledges the label, and Hardo, rightly, does not believe in Karmin’s unadulterated evil.

    The short novel, Toer’s first I believe, is very readable. Its style is more oral rather than written, in much the same way as Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot is really meant to be watched and heard rather than read. And, like Godot, the story takes place over a short period of time. Complex concepts and situations are presented in clear and simple language, giving the reader plenty food for thought amid the storyteller-type repetition. This is probably the best piece of advice I can give a prospective reader. The Indonesians have always had a very strong oral tradition, and The Fugitive, although written, feels more like a tale being woven by a storyteller to a young audience at night. There are no deep characterisations (to my disappointment), but the language is soothing and evocative. Any interpretation of motive and emotion are left completely to the listening reader. This is more a play than a novel which, I think, is why I was so forcefully reminded of Godot as I read it.

    The dilemma facing the Indonesian people on the eve of WWII was never an easy one. Was it better to support a cruel colonial power (the Dutch) or put their trust in the Japanese promise of the East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere? Many, like Toer himself, initially supported the Japanese because they saw such support as the only viable route to an independent Indonesia but, as the atrocities of the Japanese became more evident, more Indonesians turned against them, like Hardo and his friends, Dipo and Kartiman. Fleeing the threat of summary decapitation, they melted into the burgeoning beggar population, biding their time, moving around and living off scraps. In one of my favourite passages, the new village chief (and future father-in-law) meets Hardo (who is fasting until Karmin approaches him and asks his forgiveness for betraying their cause) on the outskirts of the village. This is near the beginning of the book:

    ‘Are you able to manage in the condition you’re in?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘You are? That, I do not understand at all.’ The old man spoke as if to a child. ‘When you go to the city you see children sprawled lifeless at the side of the road. In front of the market and the stores, down beneath the bridge, on top of garbage heaps and in the gutters there are corpses. Nothing but corpses. The place is filled with the dead–children and old people. And you know what they do? If they’re going to die, before they take their final breath, they first gather together a pile of teakwood or banana leaves that have been used to wrap food in. And they cover their bodies with those leaves and then they die. It’s like they know that in two hours they’re going to die and that after they’re dead no one is going to prepare them for burial. These are crazy times we’re going through. And I don’t know why it is. In all my life this is the first time I’ve seen anything like it. Corpses. Wherever you go, unattended corpses. Come home, Hardo.’
    ‘Thank you but no.’ Hardo discounted the old man’s plea.
    ‘No one will betray you.’

    But of course he does.

    I am eager to read more of Toer’s work, and think I’ll hunt down The Mute’s Soliloquy next. This is a collection of essays and unsent letters to his family that he wrote while imprisoned at the penal colony of Buru island for eleven years without charge. For me, as a post-colonialist, Toer’s work is thought provoking and disturbing but, then again, most true education is.

    The Fugitive is available in most bookstores through the Penguin imprint.

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