ReThinking Anime

So, as a general rule, I really can't stand anime. This is a different view than I had when I was much younger. My group of friends would flock to the Palm Theatre (the only local theatre that screens anything other than big studio pictures) and line up to watch "Akira" or whatever other offering was made to us from across the pacific. As an even younger child my recesses were daring missions to rescue Min Mei from zentradi aliens in my trusty veritech fighter.

However as time went on I found it very hard to be satisfied with some of the genre's most common conventions. First and foremost, Each film seems to follow the following format: Big exciting and action packed introduction followed by long-winded boring as hell exposition, concluded by action finale. Obviously I have no problem with the action packed part...its that middle exposition that is not only mind-numbing in its over complexity but it is staged so abysmally that I'd rather watch earwigs mate.

There's a point in "Ghost in the Shell" in which Bato and Kusanagi are having a discussion while floating in a boat. Their conversation at this point in the movie is essentially the whole sum total and theme that the movie is all about. But we, as the audience just see still bodies floating in a boat talking back in forth with deadpan care or concern for what they are saying or the world around them. I wanted to tip the boat over so they'd sink to their deaths (assuming cyborgs can't swim that is).

Secondly: Androgyny. WTF? Girl, boy? What the hell are you and why does virtually every anime flavor have some androgynous character or five running around. They discuss things like the nature of existence as if they've got some firm grip on reality, but really the only thing they're gripping is the latest clearance sale at JC Penny (or the Japanese equivalent.)

Finally (for now, I could go on for a very long time with this): Do you people not believe in weapons that actually fit your body size? Does bigger really mean better?

I mean look at that stupid thing. We're not talking big bulking Conan sword here. This is like the side of a Chevy pick-up truck. Why is it covered in masking tape too? I just don't get you "Over-compensating man."

Ok all that aside...there IS something I still like and am more and more impressed by as anime matures. The overall design is just gorgeous (over-sized weapons excluded). There's something in the simplicity of the character's faces that just invite in the viewer. Costume design is ludicrous and doesn't make sense but from a design standpoint it's like each character is wearing their own banzai tree of complimenting colors, shapes and patterns.

Those shapes and designs are brought to life with vibrant color. The patterns and shapes are often replicated throughout the background and surrounding images.

"Pepper Robot II" courtesy of http://artgerm.deviantart.com/

So the more I look at Anime as an art style, (and I suppose someone out there will correct me on this. Maybe its Manga I'm referring to) I find very few complaints with it at all! It's just the unfortunate stories and direction that go along with 90% of anime out there that drives me bonkers.

Perhaps its the juxtaposition of a very clean and refined artistic movement with amateur at best story-telling that drags the whole down.

There are some fantastic stories out there. Hayao Miyazaki is a master of both story and art, for instance. But does that have to be the exception?

Can I like anime because it is, at its core, just extremely good looking?

Am I over-thinking things or expecting too much from the genre?

Or should I just go back to watching earwigs mate?

REPO: The Genentic Opera

A musical and genetic mishap in a cult film wrapper


On a normal day, “Movies You May Have Missed” is my chance to find forgotten and passed over films that I think deserve a broader audience. Today however this column will hopefully serve as a warning.

The film I’m about to review was recommended by someone close to me, someone who shares many of my own opinions on films, art and entertainment in general. I was shocked at the outcome of my acquiescence to watch this travesty. If this can happen to me, it could possibly happen to you. So consider this your warning, an intervention if you will. The following film should not be viewed by anyone...and here’s why.

In 1975 a strange film came about called “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.” It was ludicrous, silly, low-budget but ultimately charming enough to become an overwhelming cult hit. In 2008 director Darren Lynn Bousman tried to replicate that success with his own horror/musical “Repo! The Genetic Opera.” Bousman tried and failed miserably.

This science fiction rock-opera horror hybrid starts with a preposterous story about a massive organ failure epidemic that turns into a financial windfall for an organ donor company called GeneCo. GeneCo somehow saves the world by producing organs for all the people who are dying. Inexplicably new organs become some kind of weird trend and people the world over sign up for elective organ transplants. Of course all this organ swapping costs money and, as seen in the unfortunate housing market crash, people sometimes can’t pay their bills. So GeneCo. is allowed to send out a repo-man to collect the organs people can’t pay for, killing them in the process. Makes sense right?

Underneath this ridiculous premise is a story of GeneCo’s founder, Rotti Largo (Paul Sorvino). Rotti is dying but his children are twisted wrecks of humanity and he doesn’t want to leave his empire to any of them so he begins a plan to get even with Nathan (Anthony Head), the man who stole his one-time girlfriend, and leave the company to Nathan’s daughter — that will show him!

As mind-bendingly dumb as that sounds for a story you’ve got to remember this is an opera, which means singing. Oh so much singing. Musicals have seen a resurgence lately and I’m all for it. But when every single line of the movie is sung it’s really just pushing the genre too far. I’d forgive even that if the songs and dialogue of the film had some merit. Alas “Repo” sounds as though it was written by a sociopathic ninth-grader that spends way too much time watching horror films and hanging out at Hot-Topic. There are no catchy songs, nothing to stick in your head, just a hedonistic display of unbelievable people doing unbelievable things in an unbelievable setting.

So the nauseating music and the pond-scum story play out across a stylized future meant to resemble Ridley Scott’s brilliant “Blade Runner.” Everyone dresses in gothic attire for no apparent reason other than because it looks cool — or tries to. It’s over the top and full of gruesome gore and mutilations for the sake of gore and mutilations.

It seems so bad that even most of the actors realize it as well. While watching Paul Sorvino sing what is supposed to be dialogue I could see him dying a little inside. His eyes displayed a sort of resigning to inevitable doom. Anthony Head, on the other hand, as Nathan believes he’s in a very serious piece and chews up every song, scene and second of his time on screen. But it gets better! Paris Hilton even gets a chance to shine in this debacle. Hilton plays Rotti Largo’s daughter, Amber Sweet. It’s a delightful stretch for Hilton as she plays the spoiled daughter of a very powerful man. And she gets to sing about it.

I’ve heard people say this film is original and daring. If they mean its original to dare to be this bad they may be right. So I urge you to hear my plea. If your friend recommends this movie to you refuse. And maybe you should take your friend to the doctor. Just remember organ transplants can lead to painful repossession. Or worse mind-numbingly stupid singing.



REPO! The Genetic Opera (2008)

Stars: Paul Sorvino, Anthony Head, Paris Hilton and Alexa Vega

Director: Darren Lynn Bousman

Runtime: 98 minutes
Rated R for strong bloody violence and gore, language, some drug and sexual content

Big Dumb Summer Fun done Smart


I’m going to get right out in the open and say I’m extremely biased when it comes to comic book movies. I’ve been a fan of comic books since I was about 10 years old. Over the past decade comic fans have been blessed with an increase in popularity of their favorite subject in cinema. As a comic fan this is a golden age. Nonetheless, there are still many that would dismiss any super-heroic action adventure thinking comics are for adolescent boys and bearded men living in their mother’s basement.

Usually “Movies you may have missed” is about films that may have passed by a massive popular appeal. But it’s also about movies that I’ve seen that I think need more attention. When a film breaks the box-office record for opening weekends – $207 Million domestically and over $700 Million globally – one could hardly think said film would need more attention. However I know there are people out there that will miss this movie. For whatever reason this film may not be on 100 percent of the world’s collective cinematic radar. I feel it is up to me to accept the super-heroic challenge and try to convince those that otherwise would have skipped this film that they should reconsider and buy a ticket.

The film in question is “Marvel’s: the Avengers.” Yes it’s a comic book movie about make-believe characters in fantastic and impossible situations – often wearing silly costumes. But director and screenwriter Joss Whedon makes those incredible characters humble and real and entirely believable in an unbelievable setting. Incredibly dynamic action sequences are brilliantly balanced with side-splitting humor and witty dialogue. And the pacing of this 142 minute film was so fluid that the only fault I could find when the reel stopped was that there wasn’t more. It’s also the most amazing summer action epic I’ve ever seen.

I find absolutely no fault in cinema rising to a new height by creating emotional and cerebral thought pieces. But far too often we forget that being entertained by epic acts of heroism is just as worthwhile as introspective naval-gazing brought on by expositive documentaries and period dramas. Unfortunately recent additions into the action-adventure genre focus far too much on the explosions and far too little on anything else. “The Avengers” misses this pitfall by elevating its heroes to mythic proportions.

The comic book pages which “The Avengers” has leapt from are a modern day Iliad and Odyssey; a contemporary Hercules or twenty-first century King Arthur.  These are characters of modern myth. We learn from their actions to stand up for our beliefs, to fight the impossible fight and to topple unthinkable odds. We learn from the man out of time, Steve Rogers, or Captain America, that maybe what we need is a little old-fashioned heroics. And we see all this in vibrant color across elaborate set-pieces with genuine laughs and action choreography worthy of legend in itself.

“Marvel’s: The Avengers” takes on the heroic challenge of combining the headliners from four previous Marvel movies and gives them all equal footing and equal time to shine. It does so astoundingly well making every moment of the film pure enjoyment. Every funny line is followed by a funnier one, every mind-blowing action sequence is followed by something even more spectacular. As the movie progresses the bar is set higher and higher as the tension and story unfolds. And all the while the audience is treated to amusement park fun without a long wait in line.

In the end, “The Avengers” is indeed a spectacle. It’s a summer blockbuster. It’s certainly not going to change the world. It probably won’t change your life. But if you’ve avoided the comic book flight of fancy that’s become all the rage in theatres of late, watch this. It will change your mind.

Marvels: The Avengers (2012)

Stars: Robert Downey Jr., Chris Evans, Mark Ruffalo, Chris Hemsworth, Scarlett Johansson, Jeremy Renner, Tom Hiddleston, Samuel L. Jackson

Director: Joss Whedon

Runtime: 142 minutes
Rated PG-13 for intense sequences of sci-fi violence and action throughout, and a mild drug reference

New talent surfaces through familiar waters in “Submarine”

When two bits of media are similar it seems almost impossible not to compare them. Nonetheless I found myself doing just that when viewing 2010’s “Submarine.” Even though the film is not a sequel or direct comparison to any other existing film it seemed so familiar to other works that I was, at first, hard-pressed to judge how it stood on its own.

Let’s start with the similarities: First off, “Submarine” follows the well worn pattern of quirky characters, filmmaking and humor first made popular by Wes Anderson in such films as “The Life Aquatic: with Steve Zisou” or more directly “Rushmore.” Secondly, the protagonist, Oliver Tate (Craig Roberts) seems to be the cinematic counterpart to Eoin Colfer’s child-genius Artemis Fowl (from the book series of the same name) albeit without the nefarious criminal mastermind influences. Recently it seems even a cable internet service has jumped on this bandwagon as they have created a character for their commercials named “Timothy”, a precocious child obsessed with world domination. Said bandwidth obsessed “Timothy” is a dead-ringer as the American counterpart to Welsh the film’s lead Oliver Tate. However whereas “Timothy” and “Artemis Fowl” are bent on world domination, Tate wants a few things more grounded and universal.

Tate’s young-adult quest in “Submarine” has two important goals: Number one being to find a girlfriend and lose his virginity. Number two is to prevent his parents from getting a divorce. Tate has both objectives planned out in a meticulous manner. His world is formatted in by-the-numbers step-by-step pragmatic plans. He knows how long it’s been since his parents have last been romantic by careful monitoring of their bedroom’s dimmer switch. Likewise his quest for young romance is equally scripted. Tate has scientific reasons for believing people will react a certain way and he plants his seeds in hopeful expectation that all his plans will come to fruition.

Of course nothing works out like he plans it. His parent’s marriage is threatened by a man from his mother’s past, Graham Purvis (Paddy Considine), a pyramid-worshiping mullet-wearing self-help guru. Tate’s father, Lloyd (Noah Taylor) is oblivious at first to this matrimonial threat but later deals with it by sinking into deep depression. Similarly, Tate’s romantic quest becomes waylaid by his girlfriend, Jordana Bevan (Yasmin Paige) and her refusal to act out according to his script.

At first Tate is stonewalled in his inability to perceive just where his plans went wrong, given his above average intellect. As the story moves on and more and more of the child-prodigy’s schemes fall to pieces Tate’s world comes perilously close to falling around him.
The story is told from Tate’s point of view and Craig Roberts seems to embrace the character wholeheartedly. The quirky dry humor of writer/director Richard Ayoade (“The I.T. Crowd”) makes this disillusioned character likeable even as he fumbles through adolescent foibles. Almost more alluring is the damaged father figure played by Noah Taylor. It’s obvious where the younger Tate gets his desire and penchant for orderly existence. Taylor’s Lloyd embodies overwhelming sadness in every scene balanced with some very subtle humor.

As a whole the film works very well even though it seemed impossible to not think of Wes Anderson’s body of work of quirky off-beat comedy. Where “Submarine” breaks out however is with its accessibility.  Though it feels like this has been done before the jokes seem awkward but not as submerged in Anderson’s peculiar pathos. Oddities abound in this darkly quiet comedy but nothing seems quite as outlandish and in-jokey as “Life Aquatic” or “Royal Tennenbaums.” The characters are believable and grounded and the humor, though subtle seems to reverberate to a much broader audience.

True this coming of age tale doesn’t really do anything new, but Ayoade’s work, though painted with a similar palette, does take on a life of its own. As our young protagonist pulls his head out of the proverbial water “Submarine” emerges as a charming individual picture made new from familiar elements.

Submarine (2010)

Stars: Craig Roberts, Sally Hawkins, Noah Taylor and Paddy Considine

Director: Richard Ayoade

Runtime: 97 minutes
Rated R for language and some sexual content

A peculiar tale of the tape

The 2011 documentary “Shut Up Little Man: an Audio Misadventure” didn’t seem to be the type of film that would move me in any way. I expected laughter and perhaps a mild state of “I can’t believe it.” But it caught me off guard and moved me.

The film chronicles the peculiar tale of two friends, Mitch Deprey and Eddie Lee Sausage, who, seeking life in the big city in the bigger 1980s, move from their midwestern home to San Francisco. Once there the two move into a worn out shack of a apartment building. The building is glaringly pink and thus earns the name “Pepto Bismol Palace.” Mitch and Eddie aren’t long in the “Palace” before they hear the loud and volatile rantings of their nextdoor neighbors Peter and Raymond.

As far as Mitch and Eddie can tell, Peter and Raymond do nothing all day but drink and then engage in violent yelling matches. When the nextdoor noise became too much for the midwesterners they approached the neighbors to ask them to keep it down. This doesn’t work out so well as the beligerent Raymond threatens the lives of Mitch and Eddie.

Now worried for their own safety Mitch and Eddie begin recording the sounds through the wall. They reason that if something tragic should happen to them there will at least be some evidence left behind in the form of audio cassette tapes.

No one expected those audio cassette tapes to take on a life of their own. At first Mitch and Eddie would record mix tapes of music for friends. In between tracks they’d insert a sound bite from their rowdy neighbors as a kind of comic relief. These tapes would end up circulating across the nation. The sound bites of Peter and Raymond and their vulgar yelling matches would soon become an underground sensation spawning comic books, screenplays and even an off-broadway play.

The film tracks the journey of these strange recordings and the effect they had across the United States. At the same time Mitch and Eddie reunite in modern day to finally answer the mystery of just who were Peter and Raymond.

“Shut Up Little Man” illustrates the past in reinactments and snapshots taken from Mitch and Eddie’s time in San Francisco. The reinactments offer a clever twist with Mitch and Eddie reprising their former roles as themselves while actors play Raymond and Peter. The reinactments breath some life and drama into the story and raise the film up from standard documentary tell it like it is duldrums. The present day sequences capture Mitch and Eddie returning to San Francisco as they try to track down their one-time not so neighborly neighbors.

These sequences are interspersed with the story of the tapes themselves and their viral rise to pop-culture stardom. Though interesting at first, the tale of the tapes drags on as the question of copywrite and ownership is bandied about and belabored between playwrights and artists and producers. This discussion is necessary perhaps in order to explain why the recordings never reached broader success or exposure. However the film begins to fall flat with the tapes as they reach the end of their journey.

The investigation into just who these vulgar neighbors were is far more interesting and reveals a very personal tale of the would-be antagonists. I began to feel for them and wonder what it took for them to get to where they were when Mitch and Eddie first discovered them. I got the feeling they were never in on what the film portreyed as the “Big Joke.” These sad older men had lives and something had left them in each others’ care. That care wasn’t safe or secure. It was, in many cases, physically violent in addition to just vulgar yelling bouts.

What struck me most about “Shut Up Little Man” was the media of these recordings themselves. The film reminded me of a time, most likely lost now in an era of MP3s, of mixed-tapes. While watching the film I began to miss the audio cassette tapes. I missed rewinding the flimsy plastic casses with a pencil and I recalled fondly staying up late into the night assembling the perfect mix for any given ocassion.

It’s all easier now. I can make a playlist by dragging and dropping digital files. I could probably even find the recordings of Peter and Raymond online and add them to my digital playlist. But I feel I’ll never know where they really came from just like I feel Mitch and Eddie can never really know who Peter and Raymond really were.

“Shut Up Little Man” shines on a couple of different levels. It slows down when the voyage of the recordings is investigated too deeply but the sheer fact that something so peculiar can become such a phenomenon is interesting in itself. Likewise Mitch and Eddie do try to uncover the story of these unwitting stars of their recordings. In doing so they reveal the human side of the “monsters next door.”


Shut Up Little Man: An Audio Misadventure (2011)
Stars: Eddie Lee Sausage, Ivan Brunetti, Daniel Clowes and Mitch Deprey
Director: Matthew Bate
Runtime: 90 minutes
Rated R for language

The big stupid explodes in Paris


Sometimes I need a big stupid movie. Entertainment can come in many forms and when cinema is concerned I don’t believe that form always has to be life-changing, dramatic, or spiritually empowering. Sometimes what you’re looking for is what i like to call “The Big Stupid.”

Imagine a world in which a lone anti-hero, surrounded by chinese wait-staff armed with submachine guns, loudly and and explosively destroys all that would oppose him. Jumping over tables, firing through walls and dodging a thousand and one bullets all intent on killing him, our hero survives without a scratch. In this world no police are notified of the gun battle. Sirens never come as a harbinger of the impending arrival of the authorities.

In this world our same anti-hero can empty and entire clip of his automatic pistol without the terrorist across the street ever catching wind of the danger just yards away. Meanwhile the anti-hero’s accomplice can wade through these over-the-top gun battles making terrified faces while carrying a chinese vase full of cocaine and never spilling a drop. Imagine this world in which our anti-hero decides the best way to stop an bomb threat is to hang out of an automobile speeding down the freeway with a bazooka in his hand. Finally Imagine this anti-hero is none other than a shaved-bald, goatee sporting, wise-cracking John Travolta.

This world comes to life in the 2010 film “From Paris with Love.” Johnathan Rhys Meyers is James Reece, an ambitious aid to the U.S. Ambassador in Paris. Reece is bent on joining the upper echelons of some unnamed branch of the secret service. As the film opens his spy duties are relegating to secretly swapping out license plates on espionage vehicles. He gets the call to escort a “real” secret agent and jumps at the chance to further his career.

This “real” secret agent is more agent than secret. In fact Charlie Wax (John Travolta) isn’t much of an agent either. He’s a one man destructive force who eventually punches and shoots his way through not only a chinese drug cartel a pakistani terrorist cell but most of Paris. Reece is at first at odds with his unorthodox partner but eventually learns Wax has a method to his madness.

What follows is essentially a by the numbers action piece where the good guys survive impossible odds in implausible situations while traipsing about Paris. What sets “From Paris with Love” apart is not its story, script nor any overly exemplary acting — though I was surprised that I actually enjoyed Travolta as Wax — but the fact that this film knows exactly what it is. “From Paris with Love” doesn’t break the fourth wall but it comes drastically close. The characters know just how over the top all this is. Reece even comments on the body count at one point in the film claiming they must have reached an average of one kill an hour. He does this without any over dramatics and remorse. Reece himself acts impressed.

The action scenes aren’t anything overly exciting. They’re loud and explosive but that just serves to cover up the fact that the story in this film is anemic at best. Throughout the film it’s the characters reaction to the action that provides the bulk of the entertainment. Funny and crass one-liners and self referential jokes populate the film more so than the body count.

As fine cinema art goes, “From Paris with Love” fails. But it doesn’t try to be fine art. It tries and succeeds to be the epitome of “The Big Stupid.” It entertains at rapid pace along the way and offers a worthwhile release never taking itself too seriously.

From Paris with Love (2010)

Stars: John Travolta, Jonathan Rhys Meyers and Kasia Smutniak
Director: Pierre Morel
Runtime: 92 minutes
Rated R for strong bloody violence throughout, drug content, pervasive language and brief sexuality

Best In Show

The human side of dog shows

I don’t like watching things go round and round in circles. Whether that be race cars flying around a track, long-distance runners plodding along a closed course, or a ceiling fan, I just have no desire to see the repetition. Likewise I’ve never had a large fondness for parades. Sitting or standing watching a bunch of stuff just go by has the entertainment equivalent of eating seaweed lightly dusted in sand. Which in a roundabout way brings me to dog shows. At their best, dog shows are beauty pageants for canines only they lack the inexorable moments when human beauty pageant contestants say something mind-numbingly stupid. Which I think we all can agree is at least good for a laugh.

Thankfully not everyone has my attitude towards dog shows. In 2000 Christopher Guest saw not only were dog shows a fascinating platform for humor, but a great opportunity to lovingly skewer eccentric pet owners in general. Guest directs and stars in “Best in Show,” a mock-u-mentary about the 125th annual Mayflower Kennel Club’s dog show and its hilarious and colorful contestants. And by contestants I mean the pet owners here, not the dogs themselves.

And what contestants they are. We are introduced to four different couples and one individual, Harlan Pepper (Guest) as they prepare to attend the dog show. Meg and Hamilton Swan (Parker Posey and Michael Hitchcock) are an image and product obsessed couple of antisocial lawyers. Cookie and Gerry Fleck (Catherine O’Hara and Eugene Levy) are a suburban couple that sings songs about their terrier to entertain barbecue guests. Stefan Vanderhoof and Scott Donlan (Michael McKean and John Michael Higgins) are a couple of hairdressers who treat their shih-tzus like their own children. Finally Sherri Ann Cabot (Jennifer Coolidge) is a wealthy gold-digger and owner of the reigning Mayflower champion “Rhapsody in White,” who is trained by Christy Cummings (the ever-amazing Jane Lynch.) By comparison, the lone Harlan Pepper – a fish and tackle store owner from Pine Nut, Mississippi – seems the most normal.

We see the couples in their own elements and then tumbled together at the Mayflower mixer.  And each character just shines with awkward, sometimes subtle, humor. The script is credited to both Guest and Levy, but most of the interaction is improvised by the creative and clever cast. Their performances and interactions are believable in an unbelievable sort of way. Jane Lynch plants the seeds here for the character of Sue Sylvester from TV’s “Glee.” Coolidge exhorts self deprecating humor from the oblivious facade of Sherri Ann Cabot. Levy does what he does best in portraying the geek you knew in high-school all grown up. His strange pairing with O’Hara’s Cookie Fleck and the unveiling of her overly promiscuous past is a running joke throughout the film. McKean gracefully plays straight-man to Higgins’ flamboyant and inappropriate Scott. Posey’s Meg and Hitchcock’s Michael are the kind of couple who remember how they met by what kind of Starbucks beverage they were consuming, discussing the onset of lactose intolerance as if it’s an achievement.

There’s a big cast in this film but no one character overshadows the others. There’s even hilarious smaller performances by Larry Miller, Ed Begley Jr. and Fred Willard – to name just a few. Everyone is funny and everyone is a favorite.

I’ve seen this movie at least a dozen times and never seems to grow old or stale. It’s not enough to make me interested in actual real-life dog shows but if there’s any truth to the craziness of the pet owners – as they are portrayed here – I’d love to be a fly on the wall for any local poodle pageant.

Best in Show (2000)

Stars: Parker Posey, Michael McKean, Christopher Guest, Fred Willard, Eugene Levy and Catherine O'Hara

Director: Christopher Guest

Runtime: 90 minutes
Rated PG-13 for language and sex-related material