Overall, films that were both commercially viable and critically successful on a global scale were becoming increasingly more likely. This was in direct contrast and often times in conflict with a parallel trend that was heavily aimed at drawing in domestic tween markets, with embarrassingly sappy melodramatic fare that was often times both formulaic and utterly mindless. Unsurprisingly, this latter trend won out and the emergence of this domestic innovation seemed to disappear altogether. Park Chan Wook and his contemporaries were still pumping out yearly works for the festival circuit, but it didn’t appear that anyone new was entering the limelight.

Its quite a sad affair and one that has honestly decreased my personal attentions to Korean film making on the whole. Thus I watch less films as years pass and pay increasingly less attention to industry developments. This isn’t to say I’ve completely given up on them but merely that my attentions are focused elsewhere on the globe. I still catch the new Kim Ki Duk or Park film when the opportunity presents itself. And on some rare occasions, still catch that oddball film that may have peaked my interest via a blog post or blind rental. Castaway on the Moon is such a film and one that I viewed wholly by accident.

I first read about Castaway on the Moon over on Twitch a few weeks ago and it caught my attention rather quickly. The director was unheard of but the premise itself seemed promising. A man attempts to kill himself to escape social ills by jumping into the Han River. By an ironic twist he doesn’t succeed and ends up stranded on Bamseom, a small untouched island in the middle of Seoul. It paints a rather striking image of urban isolationism rather literally. Here we have a man who in the middle of a bustling metropolis, seemingly goes ignored much like the rather odd island that miraculously goes equally undisturbed by the surrounding populace.

The narrative overall seems to resemble a comical version of Robert Zemeckis’s Cast Away. Kim, the man in question, even has his own version of “Wilson” and goes through the process of subsisting off the wild. Though instead of the more realistic pursuit of fishing/gathering by Tom Hanks, Kim opts to grow his own greens to make himself some Jajangmyeon; a rather ridiculous and nearly impossible stunt.

There is also a parallel narrative that bears some striking similarities. This one concerns a female hikikomori who literally lives her whole life in the confines of her darkened bedroom, completely isolated from the rest of society. She works through her computer and seemingly lives her life wholly on the net. Like Kim, she is seemingly caught in the middle of a bustling urban society but easily goes unnoticed. Its as if on both sides of the spectrum, both of these characters have failed to consolidate themselves satisfactorily into the social sphere at large.

The significant difference between the two though, is that while Kim is in actual physical isolation, “Ms” Kim is in a self-imposed simulacrum of the former. Her retreat away from social interaction itself seems to emerge more as a phobia then anything else. The reluctance to interact is so strong that to her own mother, she communicates via text messages rather then simply speaking directly to her.

The rather convoluted and irrational manner of socialization poses an interesting duality. On the one hand, Kim is faced with forced separation from society. On the other hand, Ms Kim is in the midst of society yet hides away, instead choosing to socialize and subside through the internet. The virtual distance of Ms Kim is therefore quite analogous to Kim’s physical distance and separation away from the surrounding city.

As the film progresses and the two narratives converge, viewers get treated to an Amelie-like quirky romance that brews between the two Kims. Both of whom never actually meet but communicate instead by long distance. Kim by writing large messages in the sandy beach and Ms Kim by chucking bottles with messages in the cover of night. Through this interaction, the presumed isolation wears away and Ms Kim actually ventures outside although in a characteristically Rube Goldberg-like manner.

There is also definitely a critique upon urbanization akin to Edward Yang’s Terrorizers. Ms Kim although shying away from society seems to revel in its cultural artifacts. If her bleached hair is any indication, she seems to hold a certain degree of vanity and obsession with keeping up appearances for wholly non-existent social interactions. She exercises daily, browses and occasionally buys objects of fashion, and participates in avatar-ism.

It is thus all the more ironic that such a character is overly concerned from exposure, going so far as to cover her face with a motorcycle helmet on those rare skirmishes into the outside world. Her bubble-wrapped closet also seems to fall into these notions of over-protection or fear of contamination. She treats sunlight like foreign pollutants, fearfully backing away from its radiance.

As Kim himself comes to terms with his situation, he seems to develop a respect for his new-found life. Away from the worries of societal life, he pleasantly goes day to day directly making a living off the land. Its a far cry from the monotony of everyday urban life that seemingly has become absurd to the likes of Kim.

Ms Kim also seems to open up in unison. As Kim starts to work a small farm he has constructed, she finally vocally interacts with her mother. She starts to grow her own plants and takes in the sun’s natural radiance. Her once comforting bubble-wrapped commode, becomes agitating and she finally shifts her sleeping space back into the openness of her room.

The ultimate conclusion of the converging narratives is quite the ironic development. The final and surprisingly delayed realization by government workers of Kim’s residence upon Bamseom is rather shocking and comedic. Their appearance is as sudden as it is unexpected, but as viewers we simply wonder why it even took this long in the first place. The ignorance of society upon the individual is startling and Castaway On The Moon provides a clever representation.

Despite all this, its hard to summarize the film as completely critical of urban society and contemporary modes. While the ending may end hopefully and on a seemingly positive note, its somewhat of a contradiction. While the two Kims finally meet and seemingly come out of their individual bubbles, the means in which this is made possibly is troubling.

As Kim is being ferried away back to the mainland, Ms Kim in a courageous burst runs across town to meet him. She barely misses him as he steps onto a bus that speedily retreats. As both Ms Kim and viewers give up hope, Seoul is hit with a regular emergency drill which stops all traffic and business. Thus in an ironic twist, these escapees of society are saved by the very same institution they were seemingly trying to detract from. Its a somewhat enigmatic ending and is highly reminiscent of Mike Nichols The Graduate. Both coincidentally also end in a bus with a possible false veil of positivity.

Regardless, Castaway On the Moon is possibly one of the first mainstream films to deal directly with some of the much ignored social ills arising in East Asian metropolises. The desocialization isn’t relegated simply to otaku and social rejects like hikikomori, but increasingly becoming a major trend. Freeters or parasite singles or more common then ever and arguably occurring with increasing rate here in the West. Its not so much a dilemma of the social fabric irrationally tearing down, rather the reluctance of the institutions in power to come to terms with these emerging trends.

External Links

Castaway On The Moon @ Han Cinema
Castaway On The Moon @ Twitch Film

Embedded Trailer (off Vimeo)

Castaway on the moon, Trailer *김씨표류기 from Imagebakery on Vimeo.

In the tradition of both cinéma vérité and Italian neorealist style, it seems that the central image of the bicycle within a bleak urbanized environment has become somewhat of a motif. Dating back to De Sica’s classic Bicycle Thieves and popping up more recently in Sixth Generation director Wang Xiaoshuai’s Beijing Bicycle, it has once again seemingly appeared in Sean Baker and Shih-Ching Tsou’s social realist work, Take Out.

To not rely heavily upon comparative analysis, I’ll be brief. The continuing motif is obvious but probably irrelevant for the most part. Take Out has little to nothing to do with De Sica’s earlier work aside from genre and narrative similarities. If anything, it bears more in common with its Sixth Generation contemporaries across the globe such as Li Yang’s Blind Shaft or possibly Lou Ye’s Suzhou River.

In this manner there is a deep interest in its almost transnational cinematic relationship that seemingly parallels the subject matter of the film. Ming Ding, an illegal Chinese immigrant like most of the characters on screen, is struggling to not only earn a living, but save enough money to send back home to his awaiting family. His supposed frustration over this difficulty leads to borrowing money from a loan shark that he simply can’t pay back.

This serves as the central conflict of the film, but one that is not heavily emphasized. The two elements that probably marked this film in a unique light for me, was the sheer repetition and lapse of time that you get from the frequent and mostly monotonous deliveries Ming goes on to earn a living. The other secondary substance of the film is the more prominent interaction between Ming and his fellow coworkers.

The deliveries themselves are purposely repetitive serving to make the viewer feel like Ming, tired and constantly stressing over whether or not he will make enough by the end of the day to pay his debt. The customers themselves are also worthy of mention with most of them seemingly portrayed as balanced and understanding individuals who represent a wide spectrum across social and economic levels. Most tip and give appreciation for the delivery through rain or shine. While others, are seemingly bent on ruining Ming’s day or just causing him ill harm, ignorant of his plight. Regardless the camera work cleverly complements Ming’s own role here as almost a voyeur. Like Ming, the camera peeks behind cracked doors and hallways to glimpse into these individual’s lives.

The coworkers of the restaurant are possibly the central object of the film, more so then the deliveries or the conflict of debt. The one strong sense that comes off the fellow Chinese illegals is one of community and it almost echoes both a notion of shared experience as well as a more antiquated system of Confucian ideals, one where we look out for one’s own family. At the revelation of Ming’s financial misfortune Young, a fellow delivery man immediately hands over his cash in addition to giving all his take-outs of the day over to Ming. Other fellow workers also make similar contributions throughout the film.

Wang-Thye Lee as Big Sister is easily the most prominent of the characters who actually worked at the restaurant where the film was shot. Her completely natural discourse and demeanor with the customers is both charming and revealing of this multi-ethnic community, where the loss of English may not really be that important. One definitely gets the sense of a larger holism here that is more relative to class then language or ethnicity.

Charles Jang as Ming Ding is also somewhat surprising but works quite cleverly whether intentional or not. Despite similarities to films like Blind Shaft, Jang is quite probably the antithesis to protagonists like Yuan Fengming who hold an almost childlike innocence while being the victim in a corrupt setting.

While Ming is surely a victim of criminalization, it is hard to argue his “innocence” down to a level of ignorance. I would even go so far as to say hes not even that likable as a character. Pointing to this as a flaw though is hardly accurate. If anything it works more brilliantly for the characterization. Instead of being dynamically shifted to one side, Ming is indeed a very human character. Angst is his primary characteristic and he is fully aware of the situation he is put in. As viewers we sympathize with his troubles but at the same time fall victim to his rather off-putting angst that has markedly left the same effect on his coworkers.

I’m not sure whether or not the fact that Jang is actually a Korean American bears any constellation on his flavoring of Ming’s characterization, but what did seem apparent in viewing is a sense of outsider-ship. It could possibly draw into the notions of voyeur but more likely is hinting at the conflicting dynamic between him and his coworkers.

The conflict is readily apparent, especially when Wei messes up an order costing Ming a larger tip. The outsider-ship is thus more centered upon the fact that he is the ignorant and frustrated newcomer rather then some hapless victim; one who is beginning to realize how hard it will be to actually make money to send back home. Both Wei and Young who have seemingly been in the States longer, have the sense that they have either failed or succeeded in passing those initial years of frustration although it is hard to tell which one. Either way, the world-weariness of these older characters is lost on the younger Ming.

The general style and mise en scene of the piece is quite startling. To make an easy comparison, I am most reminded of the same Sixth Generation directors across the globe and their New Documentary Movement. Take Out is surely not a documentary nor is it true cinéma vérité. Regardless it seems to borrow heavily from these genre conventions especially in the manner in which shots are framed and composed. Most of the shooting itself is hand-held, sporadic, and somewhat chaotic. The camera rarely pulls away and is often closed in to a claustrophobic level. Often it harshly frames Ming and his customers in close proximity where little background seeps in.

In addition to this close quarters shooting, the editing itself is quite sporadic and frequent. The editing itself overall is almost contradictory to the aesthetics of cinéma vérité. Instead of long interrupted shooting, the edits are quite abundant with most cuts lasting less than a second. Jump cuts are also used which overall lends itself more to stylization rather then a notion of untainted reality. It creates an interesting dichotomy and one that I am left to ponder on.

The opening sequence of the film is one that I took great notice of. The montage depicts gangsters making their way through a seemingly maze-like living structure to get to Ming. The almost sardine can-like standards here are reminiscent of Walled City dwellers back in Kowloon years earlier with its extremely dilapidated urban setting. Cockroaches abound, with humans packed together in a small confined space.

One really gets the sense that Ming and these other dwellers are somewhat on a fringe. Partly residing here in the States, but always not belonging. It lends itself to transnational theory, with populations largely caught between two nationalities or culture, not really suscribing solely to one. The framing of many shots cleverly mirrors this; with Ming framed in the foreground by objects like doorways but always half covered or cut off, never in full clear view.

Ultimately its somewhat of a shocking film personally. The Sixth Generation’s NDM back in China has long been dead taken over by foreign market sell outs such as Hero or The Promise, so its even more surprising to see a work like Take Out emerge here. The documentary-like aesthetic works perfectly for the social realism that is being emphasized but strays far away from actually appearing cheap. The film does not at all appear improvised or half-assed. Shots are thought out and consciously montaged together to full effect.

In a way, it takes the best of both world, using the reality of cinéma vérité but the stylings of a more classic feature film narrative. The casting to say the least, is spot on which is shocking given many are non-actors, or non-Chinese. Wei as the kitchen chef hails from Singapore but really does come off as a seasoned cook. The bit roles and extras as well are almost expertly done with natural, on-the-spot dialogue. It appears non-scripted and probably wasn’t, but works to brilliant effect when supplemented with the film’s carefully crafted narrative.

External Links

Take Out Official Site
Take Out @ IMDB
Take Out @ Wikipedia

On The Last Lullaby, Jeffrey Goodman in a manifesto-like statement expressed his desires to stray away from modern cinematic norms and trends. He called for a seemingly nostalgic return to when film actually mirrored its society in a relevant fashion. Its an honest sentiment and one that I find both intriguing and troubling. On the one hand, looking back through the eyes of history one can easily associate periods of time with cultural artifacts such as film in this context. But the trouble I see is whether or not this is indeed simply “nostalgia” at work or possibly the presence of a larger historical scope to look back on.

Its hard to say whether or not cinema for better or worse, does or does not mirror our own contemporary society today. Surely film has indeed become somehow more rapid, sporadic, and pointlessly styled with little forethought. But it is hard to state whether this is not somehow indicative of our modern perceptions in a more holistic context. Life and temporal perception have indeed become more rushed, mechanized, and rather chaotic thus possibly for better or worse, film has still retained a certain accuracy in social reflection.

Regardless, Goodman does indeed make a great effort to stray away from huge Box office hitters like 300 or Crank which literally bombarded the viewer with an almost orgy-astic attack of excess. The Last Lullaby is anything but, and is indeed a refreshing diversion away from the over stimulation of these recent films. Goodman’s debut is if anything, a refreshing break from the quite literally tiresome fare at the box office of recent years characterized largely by senseless visual style.

I have to admit that when I was initially approached by Goodman to review his film, I was somewhat hesitant. Maybe hesitant isn’t the right word, but more accurately I simply didn’t know what to expect. I had never heard of his film nor did I have any idea what I was getting into. The only thing that was available was the rather experienced lineup of actors which was an immediate plus. With the return of Tom Sizemore, possibly one of the greatest modern-day character actors, Sasha Alexander, Bill Smitrovich and Ray McKinnon, the film already looked strong on talent alone.

Either way, I reserved judgment until the screener actually arrived in my mailbox then to my dvd player. The film immediately was a pleasant surprise. There are obvious areas where I found the film to be unpolished (which I will touch upon later), but overall it was an intriguing experience.

While I will make an effort to remain spoiler free, it is ultimately a futile struggle to do so. Not only is it simply difficult to discuss a film in-depth by refraining from narrative specifics, in the end it may not even matter. And I do not say this as insult, but quite the opposite. Possibly the most interesting facet of The Last Lullaby is its lack or “lack of emphasis” on its narrative.

The film wastes no time on lengthy exposition, establishing shots, or needless dialogue. Events happen rather by chance seemingly bearing no narrative significance at all. Its not to say that the events on screen serve no purpose, rather the emphasis upon narrative convention is denied. There is no excess shock value, dominating dramatic structure, or second climaxes. The ending could be seen as a case of Deus ex machina, but its done so passively that one can’t help but feel it couldn’t have been done any other way.

The basic premise of the film isn’t made clear until well into the narrative. This seems intentional, as it establishes a sense of outsider-ship or that of a voyeur. The camera is constantly being framed against foreground objects zooming in and out as if we are looking into the characters on screen intrusively. The constant zooming is an intriguing motif in itself as its almost done as exaggeration. As a viewer, its hard to simply ignore it and seemingly points to a self-awareness of its own medium.

Sizemore as the mysterious hitman is quickly characterized through his initial rescue of a kidnapped girl who is then revealed to be as morally ambiguous as the men he just thoughtlessly killed. Simply someone taking advantage of an already tense situation, Sizemore as Price puts up a second ransom on the nameless girl to be paid by her rich father. In the end, the girl is returned out of harm’s way and the deal seems to go down smoothly minus Price stealing their car in the process.

Opposite Sizemore is Sasha Alexander as Sarah, an equally mysterious character who’s past is shrouded in mystery. For the purpose of this review, the only relevant information that needs to be revealed is that she is simply Price’s target for a hit. A hit that he knows nothing about except that its being put in by the same “father” he had a run-in with prior.

What unfolds is a strange interplay of romance and stalking. On the one hand, Sizemore serves as our surrogate into the film, peeking into the life of Sarah from a distance. Its cleverly executed through the camera work which puts Price often through our own POV gazing upon the action on screen with watchful eyes.

The eventual interaction between the two characters is one of general awkwardness and confusion. The introverted nature of both create a rather odd coupling. Their discourse is uncomfortable and both seemingly appear to harbor secrets from each other. While as viewers we feel as uncomfortable with the pairing as much as the characters on screen, one cannot deny something charming about the whole ordeal.

The parallelism between the two in addition to some great performances seems to outweigh the rather cliche romantic development. One that is awkward both for the characters’ introversion as well as for the fact that one is hired to kill the other. Theres a sense of trickery and even guilt but it seemingly goes both ways. The romantic development itself though is somewhat of a cinematic and narrative cliche. One that at first seems troubling but really only serves to emphasis the unique stylistic execution.

Venturing briefly into specific facets, I have to make note of the character of Sarah and her subsequent performance by Alexander. One scene in particular caught my interest that involved Sarah and Price going out on a date consisting of Sarah demonstrating her recreational skill at shooting cans. Its an interesting irony when put into contrast to Price, who shoots to kill and does it quite skillfully. Alexander as Sarah puts on a great performance of an individual that is seemingly dichotomized and possesses a certain sense of unpredictability. This is highly contrasted to Price who is overall a static object that is both predictable and consistent, of which Sizemore brilliantly performs.

“I Don’t Think I Like Being Saved Much”

The other interesting side to this particular scene is the probability that Goodman may be offering a critique or reinvention of film noir conventions. Doing away with the “damsel in distress” and “femme fatales”, he offers up a more balanced female element. One who can hold her own and is not merely a catalyst to a male counterpart’s actions. This is explicitly made apparent in the film’s latter half when Price seemingly appears to carry out “her” wishes instead of taking a dominant role; more servant then mere protector.

If anything, Alexander is the dominating force on screen and Sizemore’s initial introduction almost serves as a macguffin to the viewer, dissuading him/her from the truth further. Like the character of Price, we are forced to dig deeper into the narrative and the characters’ actions to arrive at what is truly occurring on this opaque plane.

Overall it was a pleasant viewing experience and the production looked quite polished yet beared no excess waste relying more on traditional camera work and performances instead of rapid cuts, over-saturation, and other modern conventions.

Its not to say the film is antiquated and/or simple nostalgic though, but very much the opposite. I saw it as more of a celebration of the medium reinvented in the scope of contemporary contexts. I would have to say that if anything, I honestly got the impression that The Last Lullaby was created by an individual who truly loved film as much as making them. This rings true especially given Goodman’s self-proclaimed “film buff” status.

Of course I can only ponder at what sort of influences he may have drawn from but I can easily imagine Goodman being a fan of the likes of John Cassavetes or Hou Hsiao-hsien. The character of Price actually was highly reminiscent of both Takeshi Kitano’s film as well as his characterizations consisting of an unstable passivity shrouded in dualism rather then typical straight-faced Hollywood fare.

In terms of the film overall, there’s little that can be said about it negatively but there are indeed parts unpolished. The initial action sequence irritated me to a small degree. Given Goodman’s statement to stray away from shock, I could only characterize this specific sequence as such. The violence and sudden action is a punch to the face, one that is done somewhat inelegantly.

The dialogue is sparse and minimal which works greatly for this type of work, but the little there was often seemed weak and uninspiring. Some of the concluding discourse especially seemed to be unnecessary and altogether pointless but this could merely be a point of personal subjectivity on the viewer’s part.

Regardless, Goodman’s debut film matched with impressive performances summed up to a great viewing. The execution is spot on and is perfectly matched by veteran actors who bring a certain sense of realism to a medium altogether too caught up with exaggeration in recent years. If The Last Lullaby is any indicator, Goodman may have the chops to becoming a prominent auteur in the near future.

The Last Lullaby Official Site

Au Revoir, Les Enfants is a semi-autobiographical, fictionalized account of Malle’s own childhood experiences during Nazi occupation.  The title translated into English, “Goodbye Children” refers both to the tragic departing at narrative’s end, as well as the general loss of innocence that accompanies an adolescent’s transition into adulthood.  Overall its quite a beautiful yet heartbreaking piece of cinema.  Dealing largely with the war yet almost ignoring its presence onscreen, it instead utilizes the microcosm of a small boys Catholic school to showcase the grander effects of the miserable conflict outside.

The film focuses largely on Julien Quentin, Malle’s own surrogate whom is often set in moral ambiguity among his peers.  Opposite him is the seemingly mysterious newcomer Bonnet, later revealed to be a Jew in hiding.  While one could easily spend a good deal of time discussing the emotional and humanistic impact of Malle’s personal work, I find that this would be quite redundant.  For one, its a given and has been contextualized by many sources to death.  Instead I will focus on a particular visual motif that caught my interest and was cleverly utilized cinematically, to add depth to this already impressive film.

The motif in question is first introduced as Julien is departing after an awkward farewell exchange with his mother.  It seems the young Quentin is hesitant to leave and harbors ill feelings towards his mother for forcing him to go.  As he is on the train, a series of establishing shots are capped off with a medium shot of Julien literally divided in half by an opaque window as he stares through.

Its quite an impressive shot, exhibiting Julien half in darkness and half in light.  It can also be seen as half in opaqueness and half in clarity.  This one shot fully establishes his main internal conflict.  One that is characterized by a sense of dualism as well as moral confusion to both the character and his viewers.

The motif established here is that of Julien constantly being framed and/or looking through such opaque fields.  Overall it establishes his surrogate-ism as a voyeur or outsider caught in the midst of conflict.  This contrasts heavily to the introduction of Bonnet who is never blurred or kept from the viewer’s vision.  Its quite apparent from scene one that Bonnet is “different” and most definitely a Jew in hiding which will later become obvious through constant foreshadowments.

The mise en scene of Bonnet’s introduction is characterized by both a religious conflict as well as a sense of being forcibly watched.  As he settles in, he looks up to Saint Mary’s watchful eyes communicating his discomfort at being in a Catholic church as well as his ongoing fear of being found out.  Its not so much a sense that he feels threatened by Catholicism itself, rather his unease at pretending to be someone he is not.

The watchful gaze also seems to establish Bonnet as an outsider on a more holistic context.  One who will continually get bullied and set apart.  There may or may not be a presence of religious critique as well.  This potential is twofold.  On the one hand, there is the direct visual of the young boys horsing around below Mary’s gaze creating somewhat of a harsh constrast .  Then there is the parallel that can be drawn through Bonnet; Mary’s gaze to the threat of the Gestapo.

The opaque motif returns when Julien sitting in class, looks voyeuristically at a priest and Nazi soldier conversing outside.  The frame is cut in half vertically with the soldier in the left field, and the priest walking from right to left.  By the end of the shot, both are framed together in the single cell of the window’s frame.

While the soldier may not be a source of sentiment, we are not given any direct reason to hate him.  He was simply come for confession and is seemingly placed on the same field as the rest of the protagonists.  Like them, he feels guilt, morality and humanistic traits.

Its an interesting interjection as it reiterates a sense of religious critique and its potential role in establishing a moral basis. The nazis surely did monstrous acts but were likewise Catholics like the French adolescents onscreen.  On a further note it establishes the general ambiguity of the Nazis and characters on screen holistically.  No one is clearly marked as a dichotomized good or bad in this film which is unique in comparison to other works such as Schindler’s List, which would release nearly a decade later to much acclaim.

The introduction of Joseph, a boy who is seemingly marked as different from the rest due to a crippled leg is revealed to be running a micro-Black Market at the school.  Continuing the motif, he and his customer are framed within the doorway but are seen in clarity and not obstructed by glass in anyway.  Its almost as if Malle is directly showing us the imperfections of this seemingly innocent school of youth.

Joseph who serves as this film’s Judas is quite the troubling character.  While his ultimate betrayal marks him in unfavorable light, he is constantly picked on and relegated to the kitchen for most of the duration of the film.  Strangely, we are left sympathizing with his plight to the same degree as Bonnet’s.  His status in the film is somewhat pitiful as he is often seen working menial jobs and picked on by boys half his age.

On a related but flipped note, Julien who we are meant to connect with, is continually established in a disfavorable position.  He seems to look down on Bonnet and harbor extreme jealousy towards this fellow classmate.  This becomes rather clear at their piano lesson where Julien performs poorly while Bonnet plays magnificently.  This is amplified by the presence of the pretty instructor who all the boys seem to have a crush on including Julien himself.  Her praise over Bonnet is seen in contrast to Julien once again looking on voyueristically at his “competition”.

Here there is also once again an interplay between the clear/opaque motif.  With Julien glancing on through an open doorway, shutting the door, and then looking on through an opaque field.  Like the opaqueness of the glass, as viewers we are unsure of Julien’s motifs and feelings.  If anything, I couldn’t help but feel that Julien himself was being set up as the betrayer and not Joseph.

Julien’s confession seems to add to this ambiguity.  He expresses desires to become a man of the cloth which is somewhat in contrast to perceptions by viewers at this point in the narrative.  Even the priest feels that he is not worthy and only states its a “sorry job”.  Either way, the priest advises Julien to be nice to Bonnet hinting at the fact that he may not be entirely who he says he is.

Julien suspects this but does indeed seem to open up to the shy newcomer.  He openly albeit awkwardly converses with him trying to engage in interaction but seems to be caught in a bully/friend dilemma.  Sometimes they act as if good friends while other times Julien still plays tricks on him or engages in bully-like behavior.

There is an interesting shot during the bathing scene where Julien immersed in water seems to be internally reflecting.  This is matched by the waters surface reflecting his face but obscured. It reiterates our loss as viewers to predict what Julien is planning (if anything) and what he feels for Bonnet.  The accompanying piano score also seems to underscore this rivalry between the two boys by making reference to the earlier piano lesson.

The realization that Bonnet is a Jew comes immediately after, when at night Julien discovers him praying with a kippah and candles.  The discovery is cemented when Julien continues to investigate the next day by going through Bonnet’s belongings.  He discovers that Bonnet is in fact Kippelstein, a Jew in hiding whom the head priest has hidden from the scrutiny of the Nazi regime.

The shot of Julien opening Bonnet’s locker reveals his reflection framed in a small mirror.  It signals a large question of moral dichotomy to the forefront; whether Julien will engage in helping Bonnet or use this information to seemingly eliminate his annoying competitor.

The question of Julien’s feelings over Bonnet though, become clear quite rapidly.  After being isolated together in a game of war which hauntingly parallels the very real war going on outside, their bond seems to thicken. Even after clumsily revealing to Bonnet his knowledge of his identity, their relationship holds and seems to only strengthen.

This becomes solidified when both boys engage in a fun piano session of boogie-woogie blues which directly parallels and contrasts to the earlier piano instruction.  Instead of rivalry, now there is friendly cooperation.  Even at the sound of sirens, Julien immediately grabs Bonnet in an effort to help him hide.  Bonnet in turn stands up for Julien when kids poke fun at discovering he still wets his bed.

Though if anything, this definite reconciliation and blossoming friendship serves only to amplify the final blow of the film.  As the film draws to a close, the Nazis raid the school in search of Kippelstein.  As we know Julien will not sell out his new friend, so we simply await for the coming narrative to unravel.  When asked where the Jew is, the boys and Julien remain silent as we expect.  Almost in a torturous attempt to play with our expectations, the Gestapo officer seems ready to leave right when Julien innocently glances over at Bonnet to make sure he is okay.

The simple act of a glance though, costs Bonnet’s life as the Gestapo officer takes note.  Its somewhat reminiscent of the Sodom and Gomorrah tale of Lot’s wife being turned into a pillar of salt, simply for looking back.  Its hard to say whether or not this was a purposeful biblical reference or mere coincidence.  Either way, the seemingly innocent gesture of Julien is filled with a sense of guilt and responsibility.

There is an idea that the inaction or inability of Julien to prevent his friend’s tragic end is a source for personal grief.  This seems to ring true especially when put in contrast with his following actions.  Another Jewish boy is hiding in the infirmary when the Gestapo burst in.  In a rather timid but brave gesture, Julien speaks up to them saying there is no one here.  Obviously lying and failing to protect the boy, it expresses Julien, and possibly Malle’s own guilt at having been unable to do anything to prevent the tragedy.

Although subsequently, there seems to be a sense of personal forgiveness as well.  The attempt to save the second Jewish boy is met with failure, but Julien’s decision to act expresses the fatalism of the narrative.

As Bonnet himself assures him, its “not your fault, and they would have found out anyway”.  While Philip Kemp seems to believe the film is a long ago promise fulfilled to Bonnet, its more likely that its a method in dealing with Malle’s own guilt and failure to prevent a horrendous crime.  One which he realizes he had no part in nor could stop, but can never forget.

This notion of personal reconciliation draws into the visual motif directly at film’s conclusion.  We see Julien push away Joseph for his terrible deed which is visualized by walking through a doorframe and out into the background, and once again with his final confrontation with Bonnet.

The simple hand wave by Julien seems like the ultimate symbol for Malle’s final reconciliation with these tragic events.  One that is confirmed by Bonnet on screen, as he too departs through a framing device in clear view, into the background to meet his tragic fate.

Rest of the Entries

Adam Batty @ Hope Lies at 24 frames per second…
Adam Cook @ The Bronze
Amber @ Nouvelle Vague Cinematheque
Edouard Hill @ Allan Gray’s Imagination
Josh Wiebe @ Octopus Cinema
Kurt Walker @ Walking In The Cinema
Neil @ The Incredible Suit

John Carpenter has been and always will be a familiar name to cinephiles and even the casual movie-goer. Often times he has been conveniently placed into the confining label of a cult director who gets his chops from making senseless B-grade entertainment. Films known more for their outlandish style, one-liners, and quirky characters more so then any semblance of artistic merit, auteurship, or clever commentary.

Though for any individual with half a brain, this couldn’t be further from the truth. Films such as Halloween or The Thing held such artistry and weight behind them, that even today they have been burned into the cultural psyche as everlasting memes. Even cult favorites such as They Live abundant with its nonsensical one liners like “I have come here to chew bubblegum and kick ass… and I’m all out of bubblegum” are still popularly remembered for its blatant social commentaries.

Regardless, there has always been one film that stood out in Carpenter’s prolific filmography, and the very one that established the man as a true auteur in my book but has often been sadly misrepresented. Big Trouble In Little China has if anything, remained as a cultural meme more for its laughable absurdity and seemingly offensive portrayal of Chinese culture. The sad fact of the matter is, I found myself confronted more then once in college by scholarship that hammered in the idea that Big Trouble was part of a huge consortium or succession of film that relegated Asian culture to mere exoticism. Films like The Golden Child, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, and First Yank into Tokyo for example, made liberal use of this orientalism and a tradition of yellowface.

Big Trouble In Little China on the other hand, could arguably be one of the greatest films to confront this misrepresentation of Asian culture and provide highly relevant criticism of US policies in context to an ever increasing transnationalist playing field. A sense of globalism and border breakdown which is ever so present today, especially in the face of a dwindling US economy, and an ever increasing China superpower.

To boot, Big Trouble In Little China isn’t really a visual film as much as fans may want to believe. Its understandable, its chockful of cheesy special effects, outlandish makeup, and a reinvented Chinese aesthetic that seems more Las Vegas neon, then the real thing. But at the heart of it, Carpenter’s work shines for its structural qualities and narrative devices that make full use of audience confusion, voyeurism, and classic editing to drive home the fact that good ol’ Jack may not be the hero that we all naturally expected.

The relationship between the character of Jack and the film as a whole, could easily be summed in one statement. For the most part, the film tries to place Jack in a central role but in the end simply doesn’t belong. Hes an outsider, or a passive component who is for no good reason thrown in the limelight. Its actually quite clever. Carpenter builds up Jack as a protagonist who like the viewer, is left out of the loop for the entirety of the film. Its probably the film’s central critique and a good one. By acknowledging the natural formulaic fact that all films need a Western white male lead to save the day, Carpenter injects one. But at the same time makes this same character passive to the action around him and even centers the story around literally everyone aside from himself.

The film actually opens not with Jack, but Egg Shen arguing with a lawyer. Its a shot that blatantly references film noir conventions with its usage of low key lighting and the common motif of venetian blinds. Interestingly enough, the topic of Jack Burton is approached and Egg Shen states only praise for the man by saying “he showed great courage”. Its almost a macguffin, in that the film is foreshadowing Jack’s role as the central hero….but is falsely doing so. Since what will become apparent, is the simple fact that this is not Jack’s story nor is he even close to being the film’s hero.

On a quick side note, the title sequence is worth mentioning. Chinese characters first fade in, then are tailed by the English Logo. It could be mere coincidence or possibly not, but it does describe the ethnic dynamic or switch-up that will become dominant in the rest of the film.

Getting back to the narrative, Jack is finally introduced in stormy weather driving his truck. His character is quickly established as a cocky, egotistical individual who puts on his own radio show for whoever may be listening. The rather unexpected hero is then seen socializing with residents of Chinatown as daily happenstance. Its interesting, because it already establishes a sense of general community between Jack and the Chinese residents such as Wang Chi. Its both friendly and unique as it portrays these individuals in a rather realistic context. They don’t speak with choppy accents nor do they seem “oriental” past their physical appearance. The discourse between Jack and Wang Chi especially points to a sense of companionship rather then tension despite their argumentative nature.

The casual remark by Wang that “hey I’m just a poor old Chinese boy you know” in a gambling confrontation seems to criticize the past tradition of placing ethnic characters in positions that are always lower then their white contemporary. Think Mr. Yunioshi in Breakfast at Tiffany’s or even Short Round in Temple of Doom. Here Carpenter explicitly switches the ethnic dynamic. Jack fires back that Wang Chi owns a restaurant and is more economically sound then himself. Either way, Jack does win Wang Chi’s money but is forced to follow his friend to the airport first, to pickup Miao Yin, Wang’s fiancee.

What proceeds to take place at the airport is possibly the film’s most significant moment and can only be described as narrative confusion. As the viewer, we know as much as Jack knows. We know Wang is there to pick up Miao Yin. What we don’t know is who the attractive brunette is and why Wang Chi seems to know her, all we know is she’s “trouble”. Furthermore the other Chinese girl and the outlandish gangsters are also items of information that we are excluded from knowing about. And lastly, why in the world Miao Yin is captured in addition to Wang Chi seemingly knowing more then he is letting on.

Its actually frustrating, and intentionally so. Jack is clearly frustrated as well but both Wang Chi and Gracie the brunette, seem to be in the know. This becomes visually concrete when one of the gangsters pulls a knife on Jack who confused but fittingly responds,

“where’d you get that!?”

In pursuit of Miao Yin’s captors, Jack and Wang end up in a foggy alleyway trapped in Jack’s truck. To this point the film has adhered for the most part to a semblance of realism. The airport scene may have been confusing but it was in the realms of rationality. The scene to follow though, is far from it. If the airport scene was complete confusion, this is complete absurdity. Here we see orientalism to the nth degree.

The above screencaps are evidence enough of this and are the first moments where we see classic Carpenter satire in action with its excessive gaudy makeup, over the top action, and people who are more caricature then character. Also significant is that despite the elaborate and comedic action onscreen, Jack and Wang are still in the truck going largely ignored. Jack himself pulls out a knife ready to jump in battle but never does while Wang more aware of the situation, sits idly by.

Jack’s first confrontation with the film’s antagonist Lo Pan is worthy of note as it establishes two things. Primarily it sets up the villain of the story Lo Pan, as a classic Fu Manchu but to an excessive degree. The gaudy makeup serves more to criticize the usage of earlier “Yellow Peril” stereotypes, rather then to re-enforce it. On the flip side, it visually communicates Jack’s outsidership by literally blinding him to the happenings around him.

“Don’t Look Jack”, “I already did!”

Another unrelated side note, the Chang Sing and many of the central characters in the film make use of a strange hand signal throughout the film. Jack actually ends the film by using it himself. Its a random bit of trivia but the hand signal is actually not a signal at all, but an actual technique that has been hijacked here. Kiu Sau, or bridge hand is a technique in which one can both build up forearm strength and use it in actual application, mainly for blocking. Those interested look it up. Its central to Hung Gar which is a popular Kung fu style.

Getting back to the film, at this point the dynamic between Wang Chi and Jack is firmly established as well as the basic conflict at hand. For the most part, the film involves the rescue of Miao Yin from Lo Pan and Jack is sticking around to help his friend in need. Thus, Big Trouble In Little China is really Wang Chi’s story and Jack is relegated to the role of a somewhat comedic sidekick.

Its very fitting actually, and falls right into the ethnic formula reversal that the film has already made use of. Instead of a choppy accented oriental “Short Round”, we get an American goofball who is seemingly ignorant of the events around him.

The actual meeting of David Lo Pan minus the gaudy demon is in classic Carpenter spirit. James Hong quite cleverly portrays both an incredibly aged man who is somewhat menacing but is if anything, downright comedic. The dichotomy is significant for its portrayal of a China that is both old and formidable, but has been ridiculed by racist agendas following a tragic history rooted from centuries of stagnation, and ultimately culminating in the Opium Wars.

The literal ages of Jack compared to Lo Pan could easily be construed as a comparison between the rather short histories of the United States to China. Jack is if anything, a cocky young brat compared to the antiquated but formidable Lo Pan.

The inclusion of characters like Wang Chi and his other Chinatown contemporaries like Eddie or Egg Shen bring a new dynamic to the Chinese power dynamic. While Lo Pan may represent a pre-Imperial China, Wang Chi represents a modernized and commercial China. One that sits on a level playing field with its Western counterparts. Its no coincidence that both Jack and Wang Chi are seated in wheelchairs forcefully being put on the same level as Lo Pan, and more importantly, each other.

The eventual escape of Lo Pan’s complex demonstrates a clear separation of roles between Jack and Wang Chi. While Eddie brings in firepower, Wang Chi is left with a handarm while Jack holds onto an uzi. Though when met with opposition, Wang Chi bursts into action in classic wire-fu fare taking down multiple enemies while Jack fumbles with the safety on his gun. Jack’s clumsiness continues as a second wave of adversaries enters and he fumbles once again with his knife. As he is retrieving his weapons, Wang Chi takes care of all the physical threats leaving Jack to pounce into a battle long past over.

Jack’s character cannot simply be labeled as some sort of coward, or one who intentionally avoids conflict though. On the contrary, he is extremely eager to participate but fails to naturally glide into the heroic central role. On the other hand, Wang Chi naturally accomplishes this with little effort. Egg Shen seems to reiterate this notion when noticing Jack’s discomfort with the situation at hand, offers him a rather oversized handgun.

“Heres a big gun for you, make you feel like dirty harry.”

Preceding the ultimate showdown between both forces, Egg Shen offers up a mysterious brew to all the characters. Its purpose or intent is never clearly defined and as viewers, we are once again left out of the loop. Jack as well notes his frustration and asks Egg Shen to explain just what exactly they are about to drink.

What is worthy of note here is not the exact purpose of the brew onscreen, rather the differing explanations provided by first Egg Shen, and then Wang Chi. While Egg Shen offers up a dose of mystic mumbo jumbo which leaves Jack utterly clueless, Wang Chi seems to literally transpose this piece of Chinese mysticism into a consumable portion. A portion that is similarly ambiguous but dressed up instead with American nationalistic mumbo jumbo.

“Here’s to the Army and Navy and the battles they have won; here’s to America’s colors, the colors that never run.”

This statement is immediately accepted by Jack, and is intriguing for the obvious fact that both explanations provided offer no real answer to Jack’s original question. The only difference being a case of cultural semantics.

The final battle itself is actually insignificant in the larger context of the film. It only serves to reiterate what has already been established firmly. While Wang Chi and company are kicking some serious ass, Jack is once again out for the count. The manner in which this occurs is even more ridiculous and laughable then in previous conflicts.

Jack being the wild and cocky individual he is, wildly shoots his uzi into the air almost like a battle cry. Of course instead he is met by falling debris which he just caused, and is knocked out. The real shocker of the film’s climax comes when Jack confronts Lo Pan for the last time. If Jack has been consistent at anything in this film, its his flawless streak for failure.

Thus as Jack launches a knife at Lo Pan and misses, no one is surprised. Nor are we surprised when Lo Pan picks it up to use against Jack himself. The shocker comes when Jack catches the thrown knife midair and actually kills Lo Pan in the process. Its quite an anticlimactic finish but also one that raises some questions. The primary one being, what exactly is the significance of Jack’s character if any?

To quickly note, the death of Thunder is worthy of discussion as well. For the most part a minor character but one that stands out for being a huge caricature in a film already abundant with them. He is one of Lo Pan’s henchmen and is heavily orientalized in his demeanor. While many of the characters feature outlandish costuming and makeup, Thunder was one of the few to actually have a more prominent speaking role. One which established him as a choppy accented, stereotypical Asian man. Highly in contrast to characters like Eddie or Wang Chi who speak in unbroken English and act more similarly to Jack then their Chinese counterparts.

Thus it seems quite fitting that he literally self explodes at film’s end and at the sight of Lo Pan’s dead body. Its as if onscreen, Carpenter has literally killed off the Fu Manchu villain and the tradition of “Yellow Peril” representation.

As the film finally concludes and ends its rollercoaster of an acid trip through Chinatown, we are met with a shot that includes, Jack, Gracie, Wang Chi and Miao Yin. As they have just made their escape, Wang Chi and Miao Yin embrace in a long needed passionate kiss framed by a divided Jack and Gracie. The shot itself is highly voyeuristic for both the audience and Jack who is looking on towards the action mid-frame.

In the end, while Wang Chi gets the girl and has saved the day, Jack is left with only his truck. He doesn’t get the girl nor was he the hero that we may have expected prior to viewing. The fact that Eddie and Margo seem to be coupled as well by film’s end only adds insult to injury. Thus for Jack, he essentially ends where he started. Driving alone through dark and stormy weather.

Thus the only thing left to address is the exact nature of Jack’s character, and how it falls in line with the cliffhanger ending and his defeat of Lo Pan. While for much of the film, Jack is merely a comedic supporting character, it would be downright false to label him as completely passive. Yes, he is ignorant and cocky to a large degree but there is a deeper complexity at work here.

Regardless of Jack’s inability to be a prominent hero or central figure to the narrative that unfolds, he isn’t completely passive nor ignorant. Jack with Wang Chi illustrates a more symbiotic relationship in line with current transnationalist trends. The notion that countries and nations can no longer simply ignore what they coin as external factors, especially in light of growing citizenship ambiguity, revolving door policies, and a growing foreign workforce.

Thus the easiest way to examine Jack is to see him as two-sided. With Wang Chi, he represents a more global image of national cooperation and acknowledgment of transnational trends. Not only does Jack provide pivotal albeit clumsy help, so does Wang Chi to Jack. Its not even merely a partnership as well as the film revolves around a whole ensemble cast.

On the flip side, Jack left to his own devices fails this cooperation and security of protection. Thus the ultimate cliffhanger which ends somewhat morbidly on the hitchhiking monster, demonstrates the inability for isolationist mindsets to function in this day and age.

Carpenter’s Big Trouble In Little China is quite the intriguing film. It met failure both at the box office losing to The Golden Child, but at the same time being grouped into the same category as these orientalist caricatures that root back to Yellow Peril flicks. Its quite a sad development given the film’s underlying themes and the very real fact that it has too often been ignored by scholars and subsequently been viewed as mere offense.

The ability for Carpenter to predict the coming global climate nevertheless is a powerful one. The very real commercial threat that China and other developing Eastern countries pose has never been more relevant, nor has our own dwindling economy today.

Rest of the Entries

Adam Batty @ Hope Lies at 24 frames per second…
Adam Cook @ The Bronze
Doc Oz @ The Third Act
Edouard Hill @ Allan Gray’s Imagination
Jake @ Filmbound
Josh Wiebe @ Octopus Cinema
Kurt Walker @ Walking In The Cinema
Tom Day @ Serious About Cinema
Witkacy @ Inertial Frame

Last night, I finally got around to viewing Let The Right One In, a Swedish film that got hugely popularized around the time of the larger global release of Twilight. While its fairly safe to say both works can be placed on opposite sides of a particular spectrum, both works indeed center around vampirism, a subsequent adolescent romance, and a release in the Fall of last year. Many critics cited the former Swedish release in retaliation to the overly promoted Twilight based upon a generic young adult novel series as well as starring some teen heart-throbs. While the latter work focuses more on a simple teen romance and the element of supernatural fantasy as spectacle, Let The Right One In merely uses vampirism as a narrative device to elicit questions of morality, violence, and androgynous identity.

A large portion of the viewers criticized the film for its seemingly pastiche “underdog getting bullied” setup that finds resolution through romance, or physical retaliation. While on the surface this seems valid, when one realizes the obvious moral ambiguity surrounding the main character dynamic, it seems somewhat illogical. If anything, it seems the pastiche is being used purposely to offer a critique or satire. By film’s end, both Oskar and Eli have committed violent acts that are ethically wrong but seem to go ignored. Eli kills countless victims and Oskar assists in this outcome several times. What is interesting is how the film successfully sets up the characters in a way in which the audience comes to naturally associate with Oskar and Eli on an emotional level. Their romance is childlike and seemingly innocent but presents a moral dilemma. Viewers easily ignore the violence in the narrative because they sympathize with Oskar and Eli almost wanting them to succeed. The way in which the violence is portrayed on screen parallels this notion, almost all the violent acts happen off screen or in the shadows. The viewer knows the extent of the gruesome acts yet is allowed to keep a distance.

Violence seems to play a central role in the narrative. Oskar is depicted as completely obsessed through his daily newspaper clippings of massacre, war, and serial killings. The film opens with him emulating his tormentors by saying “Squeal! Squeal like a pig!” and then proceeding to stab his knife into a fictitious victim. Overall, it exemplifies the notions of a murder fantasy similar to Van Sant’s Elephant and its examination upon events such as Columbine. In this manner, the film could offer a more individual examination into contemporary issues of angst and social isolation.

The violence presented on screen seems to also illustrate a sense of general ignorance in its participants and on-lookers. As stated before, visually and narratively speaking, the violence is largely kept at a distance. It occurs regularly and is quite graphic, allowing the viewer to become naturalized to it. This is similar to how society in a contemporary context has become conditioned to daily images of war, crime, and murder through various media outlets. The act of violence itself has become natural and is no longer shocking nor spectacle. This is especially true of Oskar who simply smiles after destroying his bully’s ear, and when he literally waits calmly as Eli tears apart his tormentors at the swimming pool.

The largely impressionable state of Oskar is another key area of focus. Oskar seems to exemplify the notion of a clean slate, or the innocent child waiting for proper parental guidance. The narrative offers very intriguing dynamics to this notion on several levels. On the surface level, there is a definite dichotomy presented between his divorced mother and father. While much of his screen time with his mother is passive, cold, and lifeless, his time with his father is exemplified by joy, engaged activity, and sense of pastoral purity. His mother on the other hand, who seems to provide the main home and setting for Oskar, is set against a dilapidated urban backdrop. Oskar’s state in his mother’s home seems to be characterized mainly by discontent. He has no friends, is bullied, and resorts to fantasies to cope. Its also of interest how Oskar’s mother fails to see the obvious signs that her son is being violently harassed. If anything, there seems to be a large sense of urban isolation and desocialization similar to that of Edward Yang’s Terrorizers. Thus on a primary level, Oskar mirrors his physical surroundings.

On a secondary level and one touched upon previously, is how Oskar seems to change his actions (or lack of) based upon the dominant parental figure. While under his mother, he seems to emulate her sense of ignorance and inaction by not retaliating against his bullies. He becomes introverted and finds solace in personal fantasy instead of social interaction. After his relationship with Eli develops, physical retaliation against his tormentors comes quickly, and violence in general becomes naturalized. While Oskar is never actually turned into a vampire, the whole idea of vampirism seems to allegorically fall right into the notion of manipulation/assimilation. This is also seen in the bully’s assimilative relationship with his older brother and a possible connection between the father’s violence and Eli.

Eli himself, provides an interesting dynamic that can be seen from different angles. First off, it is important to realize that Eli is not a girl, he states this himself and is also briefly shown in a voyeuristic shot to be castrated. His relationship with Oskar can both be seen as an adolescent romance, but also one of parental manipulation. As Eli is ageless, if one uses the original novel as a reference point, he is 200 years old. Thus not a child and technically, a pedophile. This is of interest mainly because it enters in the notion that Oskar is not merely a lover, but a victim to Eli. Also, when Oskar seemingly replaces Eli’s dead father for nourishment and daytime security, one should ask, who is actually taking care of who?

The relationship between Eli and his father also raises some intriguing questions. One of the only times they are seen in frame together in the mise-en-scene, is when they are seemingly arguing over a recent murder. Both figures are blurred by the fogged window, leaving their relationship ambiguous. While on an obvious level, the father figure seems to naturally hold the upper hand in a power-dynamic, it seems that the opposite is true through the narrative. He apologizes to an angry Eli for failing to bring blood and is later killed on his second attempt. Its ambiguous whether or not the killing was in mercy, for nourishment, or for his consistent failures. To add, the film never actually confirms if he is indeed the biological father and what his relationship to Eli is exactly.

Eli also seems to exemplify an androgyny surrounding identity through the usage of postgenderism. On one hand, he is depicted as feminine, childlike, innocent, and a lover. On the other hand, he is in fact a “he”, aged, sociopathic, and a violent oppressor. His relationship with both his father and Oskar is unclear at best, and the question regarding his past is never explored. Furthermore, when comparing Eli to Oskar, Eli himself can be seen as fantasy manifested. Eli for Oskar, provides an escape from his urban misery and fulfills his murder fantasies of revenge. Also, the castration of Eli is never explored but could be linked to the notion of escape through gender androgyny. The physical escape of one’s own genetic identity is most definitely a powerful statement, and can serve as a metaphor for self-created identity or self-definition free of societal or parental guidance/influence. The physical erasing of Eli’s father’s face with acid could be linked to this as well, by erasing himself, he is destroying his ties to Eli. Violence then could exemplify influence, and a strong connection between the two characters can easily be drawn.

Overall, its a very impressive film. On a purely entertaining level, it doesn’t disappoint and many of the narrative’s actions are cleverly shot with long still shots that rely on mise-en-scene rather then rapid editing. The pool scene especially comes to mind, as well as how Eli and Oskar are often shot together in a seemingly voyeuristic manner. The performances by both young leads is also quite commendable, both exhibiting deep complexities to their individual characters as well as an impressive dynamic as a couple. It lacks the excess of Hollywood’s high production but instead relies on captivating subject matter, raises questions on moral/ethical ambiguities, and clever cinematography.

For those stateside and interested in this particular film, the R1 release came out yesterday so should be readily available on Netflix or your local movie store. You can catch the trailer for the film embedded below as well as some additional links of interest.

Let The Right One In Official Website
Let The Right One In Discussion Thread on The Auteurs

Embedded Trailer:

Also below, is my own list which I submitted to this poll but is somewhat illogical in its picking. I would have to admit many of these were picked under the context that the results would be aggregated in a certain way. Unsurprisingly, I seem to be the only person to have included King Hu on their list. But quite shocking is the fact that no one else included Seijun Suzuki. I also seem to only share two with the top ten, Citizen Kane and Rashomon. I would have bet Bicycle Thieves would have made it on there but I guess not.

Anyways, heres my list ordered alphabetically by title:
1. Bicycle Thieves – Vittorio De Sica (1948) Italy
2. Citizen Kane – Orson Welles (1941) USA
3. Gate Of Flesh – Seijun Suzuki (1964) Japan
4. Rashomon – Akira Kurosawa (1950) Japan
5. Shoot The Piano Player – François Truffaut (1960) France
6. Strike – Sergei Eisenstein (1925) Russia
7. Terrorizers – Edward Yang (1986) Taiwan
8. Touch Of Zen – King Hu (1969) Taiwan
9. Videodrome – David Cronenberg (1983) Canada
10. Wild Strawberries – Ingmar Bergman (1957) Sweden

The Auteurs “Sight & Sound” Poll Results
The Auteurs “Sight & Sound” Individual Lists