Sin Nombre

Dir. Cary Fukunaga, 2009



I have been trying to think about why this movie isn't amazing to me. Is it possible that my time-honored history of enjoying relatively depressing movies is at an end? A formula that used to fulfill me on a basic emotional level now disappoints me. But it's more than just the fact that the film is relatively solemn that put me off somewhat; the other reason is, unfortunately, something I can't quite put my finger on. I'm inclined to say that it's because of the somewhat recycled subject matter, but when I actually stop and think about it, I have not actually seen that many films about Mexican gangs and illegal immigration. Perhaps it's my proximity to the subject, having grown up in Southern California? Whatever it is, it's unfortunate, because I suspect that this was probably pretty good.

The film starts by following two characters that appear to have very little in common besides general geographical proximity. The first is a teenage Honduran girl, Sayra, who is reunited with her father after some years, and is persuaded to ride the trains to the United States through Mexico. She appears somewhat conflicted about this, in part due to her conflicted feelings about her estranged father and his new family in New Jersey, and most likely also due to the dangerous nature of the voyage. She, her father, and uncle trek through some jungle before catching the train and stowing aboard on the roof with other immigrants hoping to find a better life in Los Estados Unidos.

The second story line follows a gang member named El Casper, or Willy, depending on your emotional proximity. He is a little bit distracted from his duties, which involve gang member initiations and keeping an eye out for rival gangs, because of a relationship that he tries to keep a secret from the rest of the gang. Eventually, the gang leader, Lil Mago, finds out about his girlfriend, and due to some kind of code, attempts to rape her but kills her instead. Lil Mago's coldness disturbs El Casper, and in an attempt to rob the immigrants on a train going north to the US, and starting to rape Sayra, El Casper kills Lil Mago.

From that point on, El Casper and Sayra are linked by destiny, or something like that. He is her guardian, and she gives him a way to redeem himself for the life of violence. Classic tale of redemption and discovery, love and loss, angels and demons, etc. Perhaps it's that kind of thing that feels slightly stale to me. Even though it's a fairly unique setup, as far as typical film plots go, it's such a commonly used theme that the details seem incidental.

The argument that sticks with me is that of my filmgoing companion, who agreed that while it was not exactly an entirely original setup, it was well done. And for that, Sin Nombre a "good movie." I agree with this, I believe it is well done. The performances are on target, the script is good enough, and there is nothing about it that bothers me on any level. It is produced by Gael Garcia Bernal and Diego Luna, which has given this film the opportunity to use good quality equipment, better actors, and to film in good locations.

However, all of these things aside, I still can't get past the fact that it didn't wow me. I was not disturbed by anything: the violence was almost rote for such a subject matter, and I am much less squeamish these days anyway. It was entirely bleak and depressing: who knows if that might have bothered me as well, but the fact that it didn't just completely crush my soul OR leave me feeling hopeful and uplifted was a bit of an emotional letdown. This second point is kind of weird, considering I put off watching the film for several weeks because I was worried that I was in too delicate a state to be seeing something that was really going to depress the hell out of me. For instance, The Constant Gardener upset me for days, and I was not nearly as stressed when I saw that as I have been lately.

This may all be a result of my desensitization to terrible events from sensationalism in the media. Maybe I'm getting older and jaded, and I really need to be blown away, or moved to tears, or to just somehow be impressed by something entirely new. I wish I had a better reason for only feeling lukewarm about this film, but the fact is that it must just be on some metaphysical level that this doesn't work for me.

Oldboy

Dir. Chan-wook Park, 2003



Has everyone seen this movie yet? Am I the last person to finally see what the big deal is? If you haven't seen it yet, then don't read on any further, because I am going to talk about this frankly. I wouldn't want to ruin the ending for anyone, like multiple people have done for me.

All right. I wonder what this movie is like to watch without having any idea what it's about, the bumps along the way, or how it turns out. When this film came out a few years ago, it was such a sensation among such a cross-denominational body that on a regular basis, I would encounter people talking about it and, inevitably, revealing something. I can tell that there is something appealing for almost anyone, so long as they have a tolerance for the other aspects of it. For instance, a hopeless romantic might even like Oldboy, so long as he or she doesn't mind gore. The buzz about this film was so fevered that, unfortunately, it's almost impossible to look at this in a vacuum, and to judge it on its standalone merit.

Oh Dae-su is just some asshole who happens to stumble upon the worst luck possible: he is suddenly imprisoned by an unknown captor for 15 years for a crime he cannot immediately recall. While locked up, he pontificates on his past life and learns to fight. He goes from soggy loser to hardened badass. The minute he is let out of his prison, he embarks on a journey to understand what led to his incarceration, starting by answering anonymous cell phone calls and eating something alive. [Spoiler number one: I tell anyone that my favorite animal is the octopus, and they say, "Oh! Have you seen Oldboy? He eats a live one!" I knew it was going to happen, that some poor octopus would die for the sake of art, but that doesn't make it any less disturbing. Octopi are some of the smartest creatures on the planet. I'll bet he didn't even enjoy it.]

Ahem. So that happens, and in the process of choking down Earth's most intelligent cephalopod, he catches the flu and wins the sympathy and sanctuary of the cute little sushi chef, Mi-Do. You all know this. While avenging his own misery and tracking down the guy who made it all happen, he also develops a kind of relationship with Mi-Do based on mutual desperation and fear of losing the other. Eventually, he makes the 5-day deadline and figures out what all happened, and it all spirals out of control into the mutual revenge-fest that is befitting of one of the installments of the Revenge Trilogy. (The other two of which are Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance and Lady Vengeance.)

Okay, so if you're still reading along with me, you know, blah blah, Oh Dae-su caught the jerk who orchestrated this whole thing having inappropriate relations with his sister and blabbed it all over the school, leading to the sister's suicide. This, I actually didn't know. I did not know that this was the driving force of Captorman's (forgot his name) evil plan, and so that reveal was actually a surprise, though I found it very thematic with the whole incest undertone of the film. Because we also all know that Captorman's evil plan involved hypnotizing Dae-su and Mi-Do into meeting and falling in love. But she's his daughter! Man, that must have been such an amazing twist for the people who don't have annoying friends!

But I do have annoying friends. And live in an annoying city full of annoying people who don't understand that some people like to see movies with a blank slate. So I can only tell you what this movie is like for someone who knows what's going to happen. And, you know, it's a little anticlimactic, when all is said and done. After the major reveal, the film really does not need to go on for another 15 minutes. We were all there for the twist, now we don't need to see a guy cut out his own tongue, another guy shoot himself in the head, and a ridiculous return to hypnosis. It's kind of like watching The Usual Suspects after you know that SPOILERSPOILER Verbal Kint is Keyser Soze. I mean, it's an interesting movie with interesting details, but it really exists for the ending.

I do know that there are people who bought this movie and watched it multiple times, and perhaps there is a reason for it. It was definitely entertaining, and the moment when Dae-su first resurfaces in the world and encounters the first human being in 15 years; that is a really touching moment that was very well done. It's a thrilling ride, and the gritty fight scenes with the flying blood and body parts are undeniably fascinating. But it doesn't really stand up as an entirely satisfying film without the twist or the anticipation of the moments that make the film so infamous.

Tokyo Sonata

Dir. Kiyoshi Kurosawa, 2008



In my years as a film-viewer, which is the only kind of credential I really have to present, I have seen quite an assortment of unbelievably strange films, and other incredibly slow films. Being categorically slow or strange doesn't automatically turn a film from my good opinion, and sometimes it actually makes it better, or more interesting, or that it just suits the topic so well that there is no other way to present the idea. However strangeness or slowness is a kind of subtlety that requires great skill to handle correctly. Just like a film on any kind of controversial topic, there will certainly be an audience that will be uninterested, so it's best to cater to those who will accept the strangeness or slowness, and tell the story that needs to be told.

I'm not sure that Tokyo Sonata succeeds in this regard. It's both slow and strange, which, right now, to me, seems like a rare combination. I am also a fan of Japanese cinema, new and old, and I appreciate the fresh look at metropolitan culture through a different lens. This film is just odd. Something just doesn't work. Halfway through the film, I shot my filmgoing companion a quizzical look, and he confided, "I don't quite get the...thesis here." Whether or not this is the film that Kiyoshi Kurosawa had envisioned, it's misdirected and has too many disparate parts.

The Sasaki family, a fairly nuclear family living in Tokyo, falls prey to the laws of chaos theory once Ryuhei, the father, loses his job due to downsizing. Too ashamed and prideful to tell his family or to immediately take a new, lesser job, he goes around pretending to still be a high-ranking administrator, while taking advantage of the soup line and haunting the unemployment office. His dutiful wife, maybe bored, maybe disenchanted, sees him one day eating his free meal, and she suddenly understands everything. Ryuhei, meanwhile, tries to control the only thing left in his life, the activities of his children. He forbids his younger prodigious son from taking piano lessons, and his older son from joining the American army. We all know what happens, though, with this kind of desperation, and the appropriate rebellion ensues.

All of the events leading up to the Moment when the film comes together (you know there's going to be one) take about an hour and a half. It's slow, but the anticipation keeps you around, keeps you alert. (Except for one man in the audience who had only come, clearly, to kick off his shoes and snore his way through the second act.) All of a sudden, the film takes a drastic turn for the dramatic, but because it is so unexpected and unprecedented, it is difficult to look at the action with a serious eye. It all just seems so comical when the three main characters - mother, father and younger son - supposedly hit rock bottom with the kind of gasping, bumbling imperfection of a minor Shakespeare character. It reminded me a bit of The Host, which was decidedly a black comedy interspersed with dramatic and tragic moments. The emotional push-pull in that film was disconcerting, but it remained consistent throughout.

In case you already bought advanced, non-refundable tickets and you are cursing yourself for the lack of foresight, it isn't all bad. If I had seen the two parts separately, I'd have possibly enjoyed them for different reasons, and could say positive things about them as two different films. The characters of Ryuhei and his wife are a bit sad, but also familiar. The secretive husband and the quiet, sacrificing wife are common enough to engage an emotional response, though they don't entirely avoid being a cliche. There are some sweet and interesting scenes that are relevant to the film as a whole, and others that are maybe just vignettes to set the place and time. In the moment, there is enough to enjoy that I didn't feel uncomfortable or bored. Unfortunately, I never managed to shake the feeling that there was something slightly off.

The director, Kurosawa, perhaps intended for Tokyo Sonata to be a statement about the social pressures of Japanese society and the need for a patriarch to save face in front of his peers and family. I am not Japanese, nor have I visited the country, so I can't make any blanket statement about the importance of honor, but I know what I've heard from other sources. It is a popular theme in modern Japanese cinema, and I've seen it executed more successfully. Even with strangeness and slowness thrown in. Perhaps I'm incorrect in pinpointing that as the failure for this film, and after I finish this, I'll probably think of another slow, strange film that worked for me. (Yep. The Taste of Tea and Last Life in the Universe.) But I can say that the disconnect between the tone of the first three-quarters of the movie and the last quarter caused me, and at least one other person that I know of, to furrow our brows in confusion.