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astroboy13
Reviews
Mimi wo sumaseba (1995)
Whisper of the Heart
Whisper of the Heart by Kondou is the most endearing, personal, magical, and majestically warming Anime based Reality I've seen in a while. It's up there with Grave of the Fireflies, and Barefoot Gen--even though this film's contents is more in the line of soul mates, aspirations, personal treasures, unrequited love, and John Denver.
Disney bought the rights for it, so for those whore lacking--be patient, although you can always get a Jpn DVD version that contains English Sub, just be sure that your DVD plays that certain region.
A great anime for those who seeks solace and inspiration, nothing more nor less. Sure it lacks violence, guns, nudity, fast cars, robots--and amongst others that can render a film to the point of being excessive, brutal, and profane--but with love, destiny, personal adventures, and a sensuous story--you couldn't go wrong with this lovely thing.
I cannot emphasize it anymore than that--watch it with a love one.
Stalker (1979)
The test of patience
Like many other Tarkovsky film, this comes to no surprise that THE STALKER, is as epic, thought provoking, and lingering like a fluttering leaf(falling from a 899ft. tree) to the ground--as Solaris. It's effortless on bestowing great cinematography and venerable acting--but it leaves a first time viewer yearning for some answer, leaving him/her lacking, intrigue--aghast, and indignant. Thitherwards the director--or of how it manages to reveal your true patience--you can't help but try to blame the films ineptitude on something, or somehow.
Now I may be jumping the gun here, for i'm only at an age where I endure life to an extent, and not to it's fullest(i'm 19)--and the film exposes subjects that I am not use to enduring in a film(except I have seen Tarkovskys' Andrei Rublev, and Solaris--this is by far, in my opinion, one of the most nastiest, when it comes to length)--and I may be jumping the gun here as well--for I've just seen the movie once--albeit on Video(So you can imagine of how I strayed away from society and the outside world--just to stay focuse and inert at this film!). But one can be sure--the effects of the director's intention (on setting fear on the MEAT GRINDER, and other 'use your imagination' traps in the ZONE) fell flat on making me believe. Now in some films--i can only think of THE BLAIR WITCH for now--that danger used in a fashion of cloaking itself sable mystery--leaving the viewer to fend for his/her-self on envisioning what the hell they're scared off--might work. But in STALKER--it felt as if the director is abusing it's prowess--knowing that the people formidably knows him as a story teller to things provocative, intellectual, things made that of the true nature of clandestine objects--that he can just exploit that power and gives us 'dogs', or 'the meat grinder'.
I don't know, like many people do--I just don't know. I'm taking full consideration of taking a shot at this film again tomorrow--hopefully my imagination will be ablaze with fervid ferocity then--instead of being benighted by boredom, like today's viewing...
Rang-e khoda (1999)
I hope that horse was a stunt-double...
Majid Majidi's Children of Heaven, when it's story and panorama unfold before mine eyes--was like opening or unfurling a book which conceals in the category of Children, Travel, and Poetry. Children of Heaven was my second Iranian film, having seen White Balloon (Dir. by Jafar Panahi, 1995) before. And I couldn't eradicate the notion which lingered on me that night when seeing Children of Heaven, that it was a rip off of WB-I couldn't eradicate it, couldn't-until the very scene in CH where the little girl drops her brother's shoes, and is trying to chase after it. I sigh with glee and marvel watching the poor dainty Iranian girl, in the city streets, chasing thitherward a singular shoe. Even though the shoe was impeded by a couple of trash in the canal, the girl still cried because it's so near, yet far. Until the man seeing this girl took consideration and applied a lending hand, eventually the little one walked back home with one shoe wet. Little scenes like that, really stabbed within the unfathomable void in my heart, and I couldn't help it but fall in love at that film. So when I found out that the writer and director of that film has a new one movie out, ferocious jubilation surging against my vein was an understatement.
So now, after seeing the film-Color of Paradise, the question lies amongst the atmosphere like a thick fog: Did I like it?
The answer, no.
I loved it. The rife symbolism, profound poetic language translated into scenes of majestic splendor in the film abounds-rife with pure joy. After seeing this film, my headache-well it still lingered, but it somewhat subsided. And after seeing this film, I really want to go to Iran now. I can't help but think about little magical village of the character Ashitaka in PRINCESS MONONOKE(dir. Hayao Miyazaki, 1997) before he was forcefully set off to his quest, the serene village of Kurosawa's RHAPSODY IN AUGUST(1992), Kurosawa's last story in his DREAMS(1994), and in Miyazaki's MY NEIGHBOR TOTORO(1988). The scene in COLOR OF PARADISE, after leaving Muhammid's school-are like a Renoir painting, its glamorous vibrancy was unexpected before the Expressionist, so was the beauty, it was unexpected from Iran. Now I am one of the many ignoramus Westerners whose completely oblivious to the fact that Iran procured a paradise, so in a way, I was like Muhammid, with all respects. And I completely felt the father's pauses when he's in the state of deciding if he should consider helping the child, this comes to play dramatically in the climax. Which brings me to mind-maybe I can be poetic about this and say that the reason why they have that horse, the real thing, fall off the bridge, and be trampled with all those jagged, piercing like thousand knives, rocks-was because throughout the film, the animals were always rescued , except the upturned turtle-which might be an ominous harbinger of things to come. At any rate, I would like to take liberties of regarding some of the hidden messages and poignant yet elegant way of weaving poetic pictures-to compare Majidi's work to Kurosawa's, and Tarkovsky's. I love how Majidi's endearment for whispered voices. It's like his film, soft, and subtle, serene to the eyes, or ears when whispering. It is so demulcent it can be considered narcotics. I have so much to tell about this film, but I'm afraid my indolence is catching up like a turtle, for I am the once boastful prestigious rabbit. Hmm, anyway, I would like to mention the scene in CHILDREN OF HEAVEN, where the dad take's his son, Ali, in the city-now for those of you fortunate enough to have seen the film in the first place (and those of you who haven't, try anyway) do take the liberty of keeping in mind of what had happened in the last part of that scene: The father and the son couldn't stop the bike and was forced to partake in an accident, and have to go home in a bitter sweet glory, yet when there is suffering-goodness comes out of it, it is very much like the climax of COLOR OF PARADISE.
And oh, it just occurred to me, Majidi seems to adore gilded objects in the end of his films.