"Super 8" is tender, exhilarating, and perfect (5/5)

Tenderness is what makes Steven Spielberg’s earlier films so venerable. Whether it’s the films he’s directed (i.e. E.T.) or films he’s produced (The Goonies), Spielberg has undeniably been attached to terrific stories that are able to earn their emotional vouchers from filmgoers.  By having a keen sense of emotion and childhood nostalgia, it’s easy to see why many people hold Spielberg in such a high regard. If there was ever a prime example of a filmmaker emulating the master known as Spielberg, it would be JJ Abrams. Not counting Mission Impossible III, Abrams has slowly built up a filmography (and even his foray into television) that deftly blends summer action with a heart that resonates with critics and audiences alike. Whether it’s his watchful eye as producer over the likes of Lost and Cloverfield, or his sharp directorial vision behind Star Trek, Abrams is a man who understands how to tell a story. And what a story he tells with his latest endeavor Super 8.

"Jane Eyre" is beautifully shot and acted (5/5)

I usually feel inadequate when I openly admit that the literary world continuously passes me by. This issue is exacerbated further when a decent amount of people around me are devout readers. But I’ve always been a visual person and picking up a book and reading isn’t nearly rewarding as taking in the visual feasts the film world has to offer. Despite my lack of interest in reading, I feel it also favors me when it comes to judging book to film adaptations. Often when it comes to adaptations, people take the film’s source material verbatim and feel a sting of disappointment when the film fails to capture every aspect of their beloved book. With these preconceived notions, a film is overlooked in favor of what it could’ve been or what should’ve been as dictated by the viewer. Not that this is always case, but my lack of literary prowess allows me to enter into a film like Jane Eyre with no expectations.

"127 Hours" is a humbling, visceral experience (5/5)

Often we go to films to escape the mundane and depressing aspects of our lives. Mowing the lawn or having a mental breakdown is not really exciting when compared to being by the side of Christian Bale as he battles Heath Ledger’s Joker amongst the skyscrapers of Gotham City. Films like The Dark Knight, although more serious than others, are escapist films and send us down an avenue of intrigue and fun. With fun and escapism aside, films often fulfill another need. Such a need is the ability to experience an event that appreciates the human condition. To be more specific, these are films that are determined to give an audience an experience they would otherwise hide from. These films are not particularly fun, but they’re ultimately involving as they force us to appreciate the very life we’ve been trying to escape for years. One of the best films from 2010 that resembles this respect for life would be Danny Boyle’s  fact based 127 Hours. 127 Hours is a visceral look at the survival of Aron Ralston (James Franco), a man who was literally caught between a rock and a hard place for five days.

"Waiting for Superman" is a call for action (5/5)

I’ll admit it right now, I took my education for granted. When I was actually paying for my schooling in the form of tuition, I took my education very seriously, and my grades reflected that. Yet, as I look back on my high school years, I see a wasted opportunity. I was fortunate enough to have gone to a high school that featured a team of teachers who cared about my mental upbringing. To repay them back, I often wasted my time fumbling about with my social life. Don’t get me wrong, certainly there where classes where I matched my potential and excelled, but I could've done better. I should’ve done better. My regret is exacerbated further after watching the emotionally resonant documentary Waiting for Superman. Like any good documentary, Waiting for Superman first establishes its cause with great clarity: education reform. Its goal is to demonstrate the horrid state our education system is in at the moment. Director Davis Guggenheim does a terrific job of laying out the system’s current grades through relevant and depressing statistics.

"The Social Network" is one of the year's best films (5/5)

Let’s not pretend that our lives aren’t ridiculously linked in to our Facebook accounts. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. With the increased mobility of the Internet, our lives are becoming more and  more entrenched in this digital age. Knowing the profound effect Facebook is having on our social lives, it was only a matter of time until the world’s largest social network worked its way onto the silver screen. Enter in David Fincher’s The Social Network, a film that dictates the rapid rise of Facebook and its creator: Mark Zuckerberg. The common misconception of the film is that it’s simply about Facebook. This isn’t true. As a matter of fact, this film is about Facebook as much as There Will Be Blood is about drilling for oil or Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is about chocolate confections. Facebook is merely the background, and I can’t stress that enough.

"Les Diaboliques" is a classic thriller (5/5)

There’s something to say for a film that’s been around for 55 years that still packs a dramatic punch. Now, I’m not going to pretend to be a film connoisseur in regards to films that pre-date 1960. Yet, I often find that the older the film is, the less it grasps me. This can be for numerous reasons, but it’s often because the film’s techniques are stale or a few years past their prime. But, when I find a film that is fresh today as it was upon its release, I completely fall in love with it. There is nothing better than finding a film buried within the past that captures my imagination and attention. Such a gem is the French film “Les Diaboliques“, directed by Henri-Georges Clouzot. At the time of its release, the film was rather progressive. It features two female protagonists who seem to be preparing themselves for an all out war on the male gender as they plot and scheme the demise of a lover. Accompanying this rather feminist approach is an extremely crafty and unflinching supernatural murder story that is often sadistic.

"Inception" is another example of Nolan flexing his muscle (5/5)

It’s interesting to see how Christopher Nolan’s career has been continuously evolving. Even though his first film was “The Following”, it was “Memento” that put him on the map and announced his stake in the film world. “Memento” was the type of film that cleverly played with the narrative structure while placing it against the backdrop of a crime noir. Needlessly to say, Nolan’s gritty style and his meticulous script caught the eye of Hollywood and from that point on, he’s been crafting films in spite of convention. In addition to this, Nolan’s films, while still independent at heart, have been swelling in size and scope. This is most notable when comparing Nolan’s first breakout hit in “Memento” to “The Dark Knight”. With “The Dark Knight”, Nolan stripped down the schemata of a comic book film and made a  film that was more on par with a crime saga than one that was about a man running around in a pair of tights. Through “The Dark Knight”, one can get a sense that Nolan was on top of his game as he was welding two elements that seemed mutually exclusive: artistic expression and big studio clout.

"Up in the Air" is a film of its time (5/5)

Very rarely have I walked into a film and felt that it was the right film, at the right time. After all, with the production length of some films and the entire filming process, some films are released at a point where they just feel stale or like old news. Their relevance seems to be dampened. Fortunately, "Up in the Air" is a film of great relevance and its setup is far more poignant now then it would have been if it was released 6 months from now or years removed from our current economic climate. Of course this is not to say the film's impact would not be felt if it were released later, but at this moment it feels all the more real.

Based on the novel of the same name, "Up in the Air" details the life of Ryan Bingham (George Clooney),a corporate cleaner of sorts, whose profession consists of firing employees from companies around the United States. Because his job is primarily based on traveling from company to company, Ryan spends about 90% of his time on the road; using the sky as a means of transportation. Obviously anyone with such a career needs a rather compact life. Ryan doesn't date, he doesn't get bogged down by a social life, and ultimately the methods of his life are based on efficiency (i.e. packing his bag, finding quick ways through an airport, etc.) With this kind of life, it's easy to see how Ryan has not only become successful, but why he is able to travel so much. He has nothing, not even a respectable "home" to yearn for when he is on the road. The only thing he looks forward to is reaching a goal of 10 million flyer miles which would allow him all the frills an airliner has to offer. Oh and not to mention he gets his name placed on the side of a plane. Yet Ryan's goal and job stability take a hit when his company hires a hot shot grad student from Cornell named Natalie Keener (Anna Kendrick)whose whole goal is to replace Ryan's face to face firings with a more cost effective method of firing people through teleconference.

This detail obviously perturbs Ryan not only because of his personal goal, but also because he feels his more intimate firings actually help people. So to prove his point, Ryan takes Natalie on a trek with him across the country as Ryan hopes to convince Natalie that what he does is important and that in many respects, is something she can't handle. Amongst this ordeal Ryan meets Alex (Vera Farmiga), a woman who shares similar qualities with Ryan as she is constantly flying for her job and doesn't partake in relationships that are more than sex based. Between his developing relationships with Natalie and Alex, for the first time in his adult life, Ryan begins to contemplate the life he currently leads and wonders if having a meaningful, lasting relationship would be worthwhile. From this comes moments of bitterness, tenderness, sadness, love, and an appreciation of human connection.

Juggling such moments is writer/director Jason Reitman who has demonstrated in his previous efforts "Thank You for Smoking" and "Juno" that he is more than capable of creating a film that can balance moments of hilarity with moments of dramatic clarity. Such a balance occurs in the various scenes where Ryan, with Natalie by his side, has to fire a group of people. Some scenes contain moments of controlled insanity and banter, but before they stray too far down the line, Reitman delicately reels them in, creating bittersweet scenes that at times can be extremely hard to swallow. The scenes become even more poignant considering how Reitman has beautifully tied in the world's economic crisis with the film's main themes. This obviously not only gives the film more relevance for the time, but is a harsh reality that we all understand too well and something we can undeniably connect with.

Certainly as an audience we can connect with the people who are getting fired, but one would think that the character doing the firing and one as reclusive as Ryan Bingham, would be public enemy number one, but that's not the case here. Instead we come to find Ryan quite lovable. This is in part because of Reitman's ability to draw complexity out of Ryan's job. Certainly Ryan is the one firing the people, but he is merely the middle man in the situation and more often than not Ryan is able to give the fired employees a sense of direction and hope when they pack up their things. With Reitman aside, the biggest reason why we come to find Ryan to be so lovable is because of the charming performance of George Clooney who delivers probably the best performance of his career. He's charismatic, funny, and endearing as he wonderfully plays off of Kendrick and Farmiga, who themselves turn in tremendous award worthy performances. Yet it's Clooney's performance that drives the film all the way home and in many ways, it's his performance that embodies the entire film. At once it's funny, melancholic, bittersweet, and completely in the moment as it shows us that even in the darkest of times, we have numerous connections and tools to guide us through any incarnation of a depression. It's with this notion that people can reach heights that money and flyer miles can't take them.

"The Virgin Spring" is a profound piece of poetic violence (5/5)

As my love for film has exponentially grown day by day, I have been compelled to open my mind to new film going experiences. Although this may seem elitist, but I honestly believe I am willing to watch any film. Whether its an inconsequential comedy or foreign arthouse flick, I have the determination to see it. Had it not been for such an inclination to see numerous films, I would have never laid my eyes upon Ingmar Bergman's "The Virgin Spring."

Leading up to my viewing of "The Virgin Spring", I was interested as to what the film was about. Considered by many to be one of Bergman's best films, much of what I read about "The Virgin Spring" revolved around one word: uncomfortable. Well, after viewing the film there was a sense of unease that rested in my mind. Not only for what I saw, but also in deciphering what Bergman was trying to say. The film itself takes place in Sweden, during medieval times. A young girl (Karin), a budding, but naieve teenager is sent by her parents to deliver a set of candles to their church. On her way to the church, the young girl is viciously raped and attacked by three brothers (although only two are the perpetrators) pretending to be goat herders. As simple fate would have it, the three brothers end up "shacking up" that night at Karin's home, which eventually leads to a vengeful decision by Karin's father, Tore (played by Max Van Sydow). If you think this premise sounds familiar, it is because this is the film that Wes Craven's "Last House on the Left" is based on, except Craven's adaptation is devoid of any moral uncertainty.

Now, the rape and murder scene is extremely tough to watch. Yet, where some films, like Craven's earlier works, depict rape and murder in an over the top, exploitive way, Bergman treats the unthinkable with sensitivity and intelligence. He understands the notion of such scenes, and they are not there for the sake of gratuity, but to later fuel the questions he bestows upon the viewer. Even though the rape and murder scene is the toughest to watch, Bergman does not let the viewer off so easily throughout. Instead, Bergman does something quite amazing: he builds tension and dread through the quietness of the world. Many scenes of the film are filled with natural noises. A gust of wind here, the scream of a crow there, and the noise bellowing from the crickets at night. It seems like all is calm and in order, but there is a dread that hangs over our characters almost as if they're thinking "things are too quiet." This sense of dread is what drives what is a rather slow film.

Accompanying a sense of dread is the cinematography by Sven Nykvist, who beautifully shoots the Swedish country side and delivers some truly gut wrenching shots. Such a shot is of Karin lying dead on a hillside while it begins to snow. The camera focuses on her as she lies there lifeless and peering through branches back at us, as snowflakes slowly fall upon her. This particular scene was so achingly beautiful and tragic that I did not know if I should cry out in the name of beauty or vomit due to injustice of the crime that took place. I think it was imperative for Nykvist to deliver such a scene in order to capture the essence of Bergman's film: life can be such a beautiful tragedy.

Now, I notice that most of this review is focusing on how uncomfortable this film will make the viewer, but for as much as this film challenges a viewer's gut, it challenges the mind just as much. I could certainly delve into the specifics of the questions one must ask themselve upon viewing the film, but I'll only scratch the surface. To no surprise, with most of Bergman's films dripping with religious themes, "The Virgin Spring" is an examination on morality and religious beliefs. More specifically, it plays out the confusion and frustration some of us may have with "God." In the case of "The Virgin Spring", the confusion rests upon Tore's shoulders as his daugther was brutally stripped of her innocence as God sat and seemingly (in Tore's words) 'watched.' This is more confusing to Tore considering his daughter was not only a virgin, but a woman of God who was devout. I imagine this story was a representation of the confusion Bergman often had with "God", and I imagine we've all been in that spot. How could "God" create such beautiful moments in our lives and yet, place us in the way of harm and tragedy?

Obviously, Bergman will never have an answer nor will we. Yet, its an interesting question that Bergman places before our feet. Why worship someone if their graces are not reciprocal?

"The Bicycle Thief" is a landmark film. (5/5)

It takes a lot for me to fall in love with a film that hails from the 1940's and 50's. Its not really because they're not quality films, but because of the "gee-whiz" acting that can plague many of the films that flooded Hollywood at the time. This would explain why I've been recently falling in love with a lot of foreign films that came out in the 40's and 50's. Not only are the stories more provocative, but the acting is richer and far more real then most of what Hollywood was putting out during the same period. This can be attributed to some of the ad-hoc filming seen in earlier films which adds a sense of realism and unpredictability to the film, but also the casting of real people who bring an honest performance to the screen. The aforementioned attributes are what make Vittorio de Sica's "Ladri Di Biciclette" (aka "The Bicycle Thief") an honest and stirring masterpiece.

The film opens in a post World War II Italian city, as we follow Antonio Ricci, a poor man looking for a job in a country crippled by a depression. The situation is further harrowing considering Antonio has a wife and son to care for. Fortunately though, in opening frames Antonio receives a job hanging up posters. The hitch is that he needs a bicycle in order to do and keep his job. With some help from his wife and selling their bed sheets, Antonio is able to purchase a bike, so he can work and provide for his family. So, initially the film starts rather light and everything seems to be going Antonio's way. But, on his first day of work his bicycle gets stolen and soon whatever momentum he had is taken away. The premise itself is so simple, yet so affective. Throughout the film Antonio and his son (played wonderfully by Enzo Staiola) search throughout their Italian city, just hoping to find the bike and the thief. With such a simple premise, de Sica slowly builds an anxiety as the film wears on, that soon becomes a burden on not only the character of Antonio, but also the viewer themselves. With each missed opportunity and each passing moment, we know that if the bike is not found, a family will surely break and suffer.

As mentioned before, di Sica sets up this looming sense of doom masterfully. When Antonio and his son are so close, he simply pushes them away farther and farther as the film moves along. This becomes even more apparent in one of the most heartbreaking scenes in the film where Antonio and his son decide to spend their last dollars on a "final meal" of sorts at a high end restaurant. I don't want to divulge too much information on this scene, because it is extremely effective, but it essentially details the desperation and seperation between the "haves" and "have nots." This idea of desperation and seperation are themes that play a pivotal role throughout the film and in an ending that will surely crush you. Where, with the day waning and Antonio's desperation running high, issues of morality come into play and its no longer about finding a bike or justice. Instead it questions what would we do to ensure our family even a morsel of food? Better yet, what would we become to ensure it?

These questions coupled with terrific performances and a sweet score, take what is a simple, linear premise, and stretch it into a landmark film not only for Italian cinema, but for the world.