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Stranger Things (2016)
I cried and cheered
That's right, I actually cried watching Stranger Things, especially during the last two episodes of season 2. I never thought an adventure/sci-fi type show would get me so emotionally attached, but Stranger Things made it happen. I had goosebumps, tears and at times I even punched the air from excitement.
Part of the strong emotional response is due to the rich characters - their personal background and emotional life play a huge role in the drama. I empathised deeply with Joyce's warrior spirit, Hopper's loss, the Stand By Me-like friendship between Mike, Dustin, Lucas and Will, and the blossoming relationship between Jonathan and Nancy. And while Will is my favourite character, I feel the most special towards Eleven, as she essentially has no real home.
All of this makes the storyline believable and relatable to me, even when the fantasy element seems larger than life. Yes: seems, because once I started looking closer, I realised a lot of the fantasy part is firmly rooted in reality. One take on Stranger Things could be that - apart from being a bad-ass adventure with some world class music - it's a show that deals with trauma, in a stylised, metaphoric way. Will's disapperance into the Upside Down is a traumatic experience, which makes him more vulnerable to a similar experience later on. Most of the main characters deal with a personal trauma in some kind of way. Hopper losing his daughter; Joyce being faced with her husband running off, and then losing her new partner; and ofcourse Eleven having her entire childhood stolen from her. Mike too deals with trauma when he misses El so much after het initial disappearance in the season 1 finale. The way he keeps looking over to El's place in his room and calls her every night struck a chord of real grief.
The thing I appreciate most about the way the traumas are portrayed is the fact that life is never the same again for any of the characters. We see this most clearly with Will, who, when returned from the Upside Down, goes through life known as 'zombie boy', having lost the innocence of his former childhood years. And when he becomes infected and seems to be lost to his loved ones, it made me think of depression or other mental conditions where the patient no longer seems to be themselves to their surroundings. When Joyce, Jonathan and Mike relate their personal memories of Will to him, in order to reach his true self again, it set the tear ducts running for sure.
This is all part of what trauma can do to people - while at the same time Stranger Things shows that people cope and adapt in some form or another (a fact even stated explicitly in season 2).
What's more, Dr. Brenner compares Eleven's childhood trauma to a wound that spreads, like the vines of the superorganism. It would go too far to see the Upside Down, the Demo-dogs, the virus etc. All as mere allegory for real-life experiences and concepts, but it seems to me they do come from a profound insight into human existence. Also, watching season 2 in covid times made the virus theme extra poignant.
Looking forward to diving into season 3 soon, with anticipation for season 4 already as high as the Shadowmonster looming over Hawkins...
Angyali üdvözlet (1984)
Ambitious and thought-provoking
One of the most ambitious films I have ever seen and it delivers throughout. The visuals are stunning, the score plays a significant role in the atmosphere and the use of child actors adds fundamental new meaning to the original stage play. It's a philosophical view on good and evil and tackles the big questions of life via poetry, history and surrealism. Though made to look like a dream, it touches on profound questions of reality.
One scene which was particularly though-provoking was the one in which a woman gives birth while standing above an open grave. The cycle of life and death, hinted at by the quote from Ecclesiastes right at the beginning, is here taken to its visual extreme. This harrowing image is followed by a very serene sequence, portraying the eternal peace of the deceased.
In all of this the choice for child actors adds extra layers of meaning. Their very age seems to comment on the issues shown: death, violence, injustice and so on. There is a lot of blood and a lot of lust shown on screen, but the actors are still playing hide and seek and let's pretend in real life. It's that mixture of playful innocence and adult history, adorned with some of the most beautiful literary quotes, which gives this film its daring and unique style.
One of the themes running through the film is the question of how we look at the world, at ourselves and at history. The movie challenges us to open up and accept unusual viewpoints, which is what all great art does, in my opinion. It's necessary, especially when confronted with violence and injustice and forced to look for solutions.
I do admit it's trying at times and it was mostly out of curiosity to see this remarkable achievement all the way through that I watched the whole thing. Still, it left me with an impression unlike anything else I have seen before. I wonder what the actors think of the film now that they have all grown up and how they look back on their experience in making it. Maybe it felt just like a dream.
Fanny och Alexander (1982)
Shaped my visual vocabulary
Ever since my first love handed me a worn VHS tape with the theatrical version of 'Fanny and Alexander' on it, saying: "This is you, this is your story", I became wildly curious to see it, as well as flattered by being introduced to a masterpiece in such a way. Of course, the tape was so worn from multiple viewings that by the time I got round to it I couldn't watch it properly. It took me a couple of years before I finally saw it in a cinema, and I came outside just reeling. Now, more than ten years later, having grown familiar with the TV version as well, I am still in awe.
This week I am watching the TV version (on my Criterion DVD), one episode at a time. The Prologue alone just blew me away. Visually, it is as precise and complete as it gets; I wouldn't hesitate to say it touches perfection. I find it so powerful in the way it treats its themes - most notably the power of imagination in childhood - that most scenes have become an archetype in my personal visual vocabulary. I think that's the mark of truly great art.
My first love and I lost touch long ago; I could never thank him enough for handing me this treasure.
Io sono Li (2011)
Great art
A tender, sympathetic movie with imagery that is not spectacular but that will leave a great impression. The story – of a unique friendship across boundaries of culture and language – develops at a moderate pace but takes a dramatic turn in the end.
In all of this, the elements water, wind and fire play an important role, just as they did in the ancient Chinese poetry which runs as a thread throughout the film. Especially the element water. Water reflects and carries anything that will float. Water connects and separates. Water holds fish, a source of livelihood. And how do you sustain that, what do you do with the means of life you are given? It's one of the questions the film gets you thinking about. The opposite of water is fire and you will need to see the film for yourself to find out how fire is put to full dramatic use. And then there is the wind, which has the unique quality to bring us closer to a loved one far away. The elements are of course universal, as are friendship and love - the main themes in this story of immigrants.
Parenthood is another theme. It really got me thinking, having no children myself but being a proud uncle, what it must feel like to be a parent. For Shun Li, one of the two main characters, it is a source of great joy, but also of tears as she is separated from her son. Unfortunately not everyone is as grateful to be a parent as Shun Li, as we see in a striking scene with one of the main guests of the café.
Apart from being a poetic film about friendship, parenthood and the elements around us, it also tells us about sacrifice and how all acts are connected. This is shown through the role of Lian, the roommate of Shun Li. Lian is most often seen performing tai chi movements on the beach. Tai chi is an ancient Chinese form of martial arts for balancing body, mind and spirit. It is a way of getting in touch with the world around you and all the lifeforms in it, close by and far away. Lian is a silent figure but her final act proves to show her understanding of the way that all life and all deeds are connected.
It's a film about poetry where poetry becomes life, which is the main feature of great art.
Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close (2011)
A moving masterpiece
This is easily one of the most impressive movie experiences I ever had. One that stayed with me a very long time. There is so much going on in terms of storytelling, emotion and the ground that it covers. Yes. It's about 9/11 and yes, it's about a young boy losing his father and not knowing how to deal with his grief. But it's also a film about overcoming your fears, about parenthood (and childhood), about metaphors and secrets, about truth and the world not making sense. It's a modern quest about love and death and the everlasting questions of life.
Of course the protagonist Oskar is the main character, he really is the key (!) figure and the whole movie is built around him. And boy does Thomas Horn deliver. He succeeds in portraying Oskar as a real life figure, going through all the hardship, drama, joy and laughter, anger, grief, fear, redemption and simply finding his way through life. He is utterly believable and pulls at your guts in all the traumatic experiences he goes through.
The most amazing thing he pulls off is making Oskar lovable even though Oskar is almost impossible to love. Oskar is bossy, rude, terrible to get along with. Seeing what he goes through, all on his own, you just want to comfort him and yet you know he would not be able to receive such comfort. And that makes him so intensely lovable.
There are moments of pure joy in this movie too, even though there is such a sad story at the heart of it. The joy feels just as real as the tears. Absolutely delightful are the scenes between Oskar and the Renter. Here you have the amazing Max von Sydow, silver screen hero, and first timer Thomas Horn making an unforgettable pair. The scene on the bus where the Renter falls asleep and Oskar wakes him up by offering him juice, is just pure gold. Warm and hugely funny acting. As is the scene on the subway with the oxymoron wars. Each of the people whose name is Black bring something of their own to the whole as well.
Visually the movie is often remarkable. The red wall in front of which Oskar and the Renter play out a decisive dialogue. The little wasp trapped in the classroom on the morning of 'the worst day'. The flashes of memory when Oskar tells his story to the Renter. Also the music, building up in tension at the most intense scenes, and the use of the clarinet in it, really enhances the atmosphere of the film.
Every now and then something else will come to mind in praise of this film. It will linger in my head in the coming days and months. Like that image of Oskar ringing his tambourine, running across the bridge, shouting: 'Fort Greene! Fort Greene!' In short, I think it's a masterpiece.
The Secret of Kells (2009)
A masterpiece
I went into this expecting it to be just decent. But as the movie went on I started loving it more and more. Even whispering "Oh my goodness" to myself near the end. Why? Because it's so gorgeously made. And it had me captivated like I was a little kid (I'm 35).
Sure, the story holds no surprises - I would refer to it as 'classic storytelling'. It's the way it is told, though, that is the whole deal here. And that is just - like I said - gorgeous, even epic at times. A true work of art.
The attention to detail has been mentioned before. I would like to add the use of color and also the different techniques and materials used in the drawing. All of it is done with such taste and skill. Plus I find the signature style very pleasant to look at.
Then there is the use of sound and music. It has pleasure, magic and downright terror in it. Really well done.
I watched this on my laptop and it got me captivated so I can only guess what the viewing experience on a big screen would be. For me, this was like seeing Finding Nemo or Wall-E for the first time - that gut sense of awe at what human hands can make. Having seen the actual Book of Kells, in Dublin, and being a lover of illuminated manuscripts in general, it's pretty much that same awe one feels at what human hands and imagination combined can achieve.
This deserves to be as famous as Pixar and Ghibli.
I Am Legend (2007)
View it on its own terms
I know this movie has gotten some criticism, concerning plot holes, the use of CGI, differences with the book, etc. So I felt compelled to write a short comment explaining why I was so struck by this film when I watched it last night. In short, I couldn't help but admire the intensity of it all. And it's a very careful intensity.
The pace of the film, the lighting, the emotions, it all came across as entirely in the right place, and very deliberate. Here we have a film maker who knows what he's doing. Everything in this film has some purpose, sometimes only noticed after viewing it. Like some of the scenes are almost entirely in the dark, you can't see what's happening which adds to the frenzy. The part where I felt that they could've cut an entire scene (the battle at the end with the darkseekers where there's just plain shooting and violence going on), in retrospect served to add to the despair in the lab later on. By then it has become clear that those creatures are pure danger, no discussion.
And to be honest, I have never wanted so bad for a film to end differently then when the final attack in the lab takes place. I felt desperation, after already having gone through fear, excitement, a broken heart and what not.
The scenes of the evacuation of New York City were perhaps the scariest. The threat of something similar happening (because of climate change, that is) on such a scale to my hometown (Utrecht, the Netherlands) is very real. This film is not just a story, not just some action, not just some film. It tells us something about the life we lead today, our world now. That is why the small, but important message repeated at the end, is: Light up the darkness.
Not everything in this movie is drama, of course, and here once again, the pacing and dosages of action and emotions is very deliberate and carefully maintained. The scene with Robert lip-syncing to Shrek with Anna and Ethan in the room, is alive with eerie tension. Robert's interaction with the dummies is both comic relief and tender psychology.
Sure, the CGI could have been better - or perhaps done away with entirely. (Since I haven't read the book, I can't comment on that.) As for the plot holes: parts of me started wondering about stuff now and then, but I just couldn't finish those thoughts as every time I was again drawn in by the story. Perhaps because I watched this film on its own terms, instead of expecting a "thriller", "action movie", "zombie flick" "sci fi movie", etc...?
Braindead (1992)
Zombies as metaphors
We all know Braindead is one of the most talked about horror classics, and we all know who Peter Jackson is. Unfortunately, rarely - if ever - does Braindead get the serious attention it deserves.
More than just blood and guts, the theme of this film is trying to control something that has gone totally wild and which is unaccepted in normal society, to the point where it becomes a shameful taboo. The solution that Lionel, the main character, finds for this problem is by facing up to this overwhelming danger, and by doing so, freeing himself from his fears.
The zombies act as metaphors in this. They are monsters, but they still resemble people. Only when Lionel sees them for what they truly are, is he able to release himself from their iron grip. His mother is the most obvious example: when he has to poison her, he can't do it, because to her she is still his mother.
The frantic way in which everything is filmed, and the over-the-top quality of the violence, reflect this subject matter. The viewer has to look the frenzy right in the eye.
I can hear you thinking: come on, this movie is so outrageous, how can you even begin to find something serious in it? True, this is a really outrageous film. Outrageousness is its main ingredient, to be exploited and enjoyed for its own sake, just like the stereotypes (the mother, uncle Les, the priest - who, by the way, reminded me very much of Terry Jones' Monty Python character The Bishop). But they also communicate something more ambitious and serious.
It's there from the very beginning. The second the natives discover he is being bitten, they kill the explorer (in other words: the "savage" natives know better how to deal with this uncontrollable frenzy than the so-called "civilised" British citizens, a nice Burtonesque dissection of colonially rooted, suburban hypocrisy...). This introduces the rat-monkey, providing the horror element, the fear of the unknown and the absolute evil.
Then there is the psychological content of the mother-son-relationship. The scene in which the mother follows Lionel and his girlfriend Paquita down to the zoo is a real key scene - by combining the horror element, when the mother gets bitten, with the psychological. Perhaps even more terrifying is the shot in which Lionel's mother, already a zombie, is stumbling across the street in broad daylight like a raving maniac, seconds before she gets hit by a tram. These are truly scary images, much more so than the gore circus that ensues in the grand finale.
Peter Jackson deserves recognition for having made a masterpiece of its time, as well as for the effort he put into it to give it lasting dramatic content, something which distinguishes him from directors who see horror merely as entertainment.
One last thing about this film and that's that it is worth watching for one shot alone: Lionel is standing in the main hall, completely covered in and surrounded by tons of blood, flames blazing from the kitchen on the left, from where Paquita comes running and embraces him. Just as good as the "You met me at a very strange time in my life", skyscrapers collapsing, final scene of Fight Club.
Breaking Away (1979)
A truly American, yet universal classic
I was on a plane from Calgary to Frankfurt, unsuccessfully trying to sleep. I knew they were gonna show a movie next, called Breaking away, but I had never heard of it and so didn't know what to expect. From the very first minutes, though, I was hooked.
At first, it was simply because these four sexy guys - walking around, basking, swimming - really turned me on; but after a couple of scenes I wasn't only interested in them physically, but also emotionally. Who couldn't fall in love with Eric, the energetic cyclist who dreams of being Italian and sings Figaro while shaving his legs? His vibrant spirit and unceasing pursuit of his desires are a charm that on its own could have saved an entire movie from oblivion.
But there is so much more to enjoy here. As an example of one of the finest eras in American cinema, it is a masterpiece. It captures the summer, the city, the time, the people. It is as much a film about universal themes - the price of dreams, the hunt for love, the clash of generations, the bonds of friendship - as it is one about an America that is lost forever.
When my plane had landed, I had forgotten most of it - I had had breakfast, some rest, and listened to music. I still had one last plane to catch to Amsterdam. But flashes of a beaming Eric on his bicycle kept coming back to me. Reading only small bits here on IMDb about this film brought everything back to me, and I felt compelled to share in everyone's enthusiasm. And encourage all of you who haven't yet seen this gem, to go and do so. You will not be disappointed.