-
OPPENHEIMER is a Stunning Dissection of Apocalyptic Guilt and Glory
Cillian Murphy and Christopher Nolan turn in career-best work in a complex portrait of an iconic and infamous physicist
Stills courtesy of Universal Pictures. To J. Robert Oppenheimer (Cillian Murphy), the atomic bomb was supposed to be the weapon to end all war–unleashing the possibility of destruction so large it would hopefully stop humanity in its tracks and pull it back from the brink of self-destruction. Decades removed from the surrender of Germany and Japan, however, America has continued its own ideological war for self-preservation in the fight against Communism…placing a target on Oppenheimer’s own flawed, conflicted life as the U.S. Government votes to confirm his security clearance. With the threat of the “Super” H-Bomb looming at the start of the Cold War with the Soviet Union, no minutiae of Oppenheimer’s life is safe–including all associations romantic, professional, political, or ideological.
“No one is on trial here” is a common refrain throughout Christopher Nolan’s stunning three-hour opus about the director of the infamous Manhattan Project. However, nothing could be further from the truth as warring ideological factions fight for dominance over it–placing the life and reputation of one of America’s most morally complicated scientists in the crossfire. Through one man’s impossible choices in the name of scientific progress and global unity, writer-director Nolan examines how the road to hell is self-laid with the best of intentions; how the noblest pursuits are perverted in the name of ruthless self-interest; and how the sum of history is more often than not a desperate rationalization by the guilty, far from any futile sense of objective truth.
It’s a heady, thematically complicated picture that also happens to have some of the most riveting blockbuster sequences of 2023 so far, thrillingly realized by Nolan and his regular collaborators including cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema and composer Ludwig Göransson. Nolan and van Hoytema depict Oppenheimer’s world as one of constant chaos, brimming with atomic-level instability that’s on the brink of implosion at any minute. To escape the madness swirling around him, Murphy’s Oppenheimer obsesses over making sense of life’s paradoxes and incongruities–finding solace not just in his fellow scientists, but in eventual experimentation that brings his constant visual cacophony to a larger, far more destructive scale. Göransson’s score is a dazzling sonic equivalent, full of thrumming synths that tease out the discoveries at hand, finding their decibel-topping release at moments of “triumph.” They’re jaw-dropping, practical-FX-driven sequences that toe the line between the real and experimental, sneaking in Malickian visual flair amidst sequences befitting an Aaron Sorkin courtroom drama. What’s wilder, I’d gauge that 90% of Oppenheimer is in full IMAX aspect ratio–treating a cold gaze or sudden betrayal with as much graphic reverence as an atomic explosion or a majestic European vista.
Oppenheimer’s marketing campaign has lured in audiences with the promise of depicting one of America’s most fiercely debated scientific and wartime acts through the lens of one of its most championed blockbuster directors. In a much more satisfying sleight of hand, however, the majority of Oppenheimer is a series of two-handed interrogations–one very much in the public eye, one in the bureaucratic shadows–allowing Nolan to return to the claustrophobic psychologically-charged interiors of his Following and Insomnia days. While the creation of the bomb is what may get audiences in seats–it’s Nolan’s fascination with the weaponized ideals at play in the aftermath of the atom bomb’s creation that rightfully dominates the mammoth runtime of Oppenheimer. These sequences, however, still retain a thrilling pace and captivating visual sense–cross-cutting across multiple decades and perspectives to make each scene feel electrifyingly riveting and current. Nolan recognizes there’s just as much suspense to be found in the tiniest details of an actor’s performance as there is in an eagerly-awaited explosion–and the film’s meticulous editing by Jennifer Lame mines each of the film’s performances and enriches them to their most explosive potential.
Equally weaponized is the film’s murderers’ row of supporting actors, with Nolan impossibly managing to give each of them a moment to steal the spotlight from Cillian Murphy. Part of Oppenheimer’s thrill is not knowing just who might pop up next, with Nolan pretty much using these actors’ presence in modern pop culture as an emotional shorthand for the roles these scientists and officials played in their own era. Robert Downey Jr.’s charisma casts an increasingly dubious spell in his portrayal of Atomic Energy Commission leader Lewis Strauss, whose shepherding of America’s nuclear program reveals itself to be less about global scientific progress and more about American dominance. Kenneth Branagh’s Neils Bohr and Tom Conti’s Albert Einstein are jovial yet brow-furrowed mentors and colleagues to Oppenheimer. Matt Damon is ever a pragmatic optimist as Lieutenant General Leslie Groves, the military brass tasked with herding whatever nuclear physicist he can find to the project at Los Alamos–wholly placing his trust and political clout in theoretical science if it means bringing an end to the bloodshed of World War II. On the opposite end of the spectrum, Gary Oldman, Casey Affleck, and Dane DeHaan turn in soft-spoken, menacing performances as President Harry Truman, Colonel Boris Pash, and Major General Kenneth Nichols–jaded or bloodthirsty men in power who flash smiles like knives in the pursuit of their single-minded goals, often at the cost of Groves, Oppenheimer, and the scientists at their disposal. There’s even room for a complicated and moving turn by none other than Josh Hartnett as a member of Oppenheimer’s Berkeley faculty who recognizes and confronts his colleague’s self-destructive behavior–chiding how Robert sees both scientific progress and Communism as paths to global unity as America seeks to use the former as a weapon against the latter. Not to mention further appearances by literally everyone including Benny Safdie, James Urbaniak, Jason Clarke, Macon Blair, David Dastmalchian, Christopher Denham, Alex Wolff, Jack Quaid, and Matthew Modine.
Rounding out the cast are Emily Blunt as Kitty Oppenheimer and Florence Pugh as Jean Tatlock, both driven and complicated figures in their own right who challenged Oppenheimer as much as consoled him throughout his life. Like the other fleeting characters throughout the picture, Kitty and Jean reveal more about Oppenheimer than themselves–although both Pugh and Blunt strive to give their characters a depth outside of being defined by Murphy’s leading role. Both women possess the same flaws as Robert–notably an impulsive mania that externalizes into behavior toeing the line between charisma and obsession; however, American society (then and now) allows men like Oppenheimer to frame such antics as part of their genius, while women like Kitty and Jean are forced to keep such inner turmoil repressed in order to maintain a patriarchal order. It’s Kitty who forces Oppenheimer to confront his own naïveté as a scientist; it’s Jean that provides Oppenheimer with a mirror to his own ego. But unlike past female roles in Inception or The Prestige, where women feel more totemic than anything else, Nolan seems acutely aware of the unfair sacrifices women like Kitty and Jean are forced to make in the name of others’ progress. Blunt’s ferocity in particular shines throughout Oppenheimer’s second half, as she questions the black-and-white nature of Americans’ hunt to root out Communists via her own lived experiences. However, one can’t help but feel like both Blunt and Pugh are underutilized throughout, perpetually in the crippling shadow of Murphy’s egomaniac scientist. Also notably portrayed is scientist Lilli Hornig by Olivia Thirlby, who is framed as a role-bucking participant of the Manhattan Project who eventually leads an internal charge against the eventual usage of scientists’ bomb research on civilians when the end of the War is already in sight.
For all of its stacked supporting cast, however, Oppenheimer can also be seen as Christopher Nolan’s love letter to Cillian Murphy, a collaborator of Nolan’s since 2005’s Batman Begins. Arguably his largest theatrical leading role since 2012’s Red Lights, Murphy’s increasingly gaunt stare is in nearly every IMAX-sized frame of Oppenheimer. The actor tackles the challenging role with steely resolve, charting an overwhelming journey from manic optimism to haunted fatalism with near-imperceptible tics and stares. It’s an incredibly committed performance that grounds Nolan’s film in a compelling emotional journey even as it navigates the complexities of theoretical physics and Washington political intrigue in addition to its bombastic set pieces; it’s a performance that even saves Oppenheimer during some of its more questionable artistic choices, notably its nude scenes of Murphy mid-interrogation in a more flat-footed illustration of Oppenheimer’s psychological vulnerability. With van Hoytema’s square frame, performances in Oppenheimer evoke the gravitas of silent-era features; with an unerring gaze on Murphy as Oppenheimer struggles to make sense of the world, it’s breathtaking how Nolan and van Hoytema make the world ripple and shake around their lead actor. There’s rarely a frame in Oppenheimer that doesn’t juxtapose Murphy’s cool demeanor with the raging of the natural world around him–a pairing that frequently externalizes the moral apocalypse a man like Oppenheimer faced the majority of his life.
In regards to its claustrophobic capturing of a morally-conflicted moment in history, Nolan’s Oppenheimer has more in common with films like Son of Saul as it does with the scientific hagiography of something like The Right Stuff. Nolan and Oppenheimer make no qualms about acknowledging the devastation the Manhattan Project wreaked not just upon Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but also in the following decades. In its second half, it allows the film to pivot away from the noble efforts of bringing together the world’s top minds in pursuit of a common goal into how that idea of unity itself became a weapon of national self-interest. There’s a raw suspense Nolan finds in the battle for self-preservation the film’s characters face, one where alliances only last as long as they’re useful. In an ideologically bloodthirsty world as this, Oppenheimer’s position is an impossible one, as the physicist tasked with the scientific discoveries that may end thousands of lives to save countless more. Where Oppenheimer soars is the emotional collapse in the aftermath of this journey–when it becomes clear that, despite Oppenheimer’s dreams of creating a weapon to end all weapons, the atomic bomb isn’t seen as a last resort but the first step towards a fabled self-made armageddon. It’s a reality that Oppenheimer as a film is wholly convinced of, with each character either feebly denying its prospects or crumbling under the weight of their complicity in bringing such a future closer to reality. A jaw-dropping sequence where Oppenheimer applauds the efforts of Los Alamos scientists marks the chilling duality of this response–echoing, of all things, Bob Fosse’s Cabaret in how people confront their own impending atrocities with stoic resolve, sobbing guilt, or vigorously-applauding enthusiasm.
For all of its technical wizardry and bravura performances, Oppenheimer’s greatest strength is in how it confronts and embraces the necessary reckoning for historical moments such as these. There’s natural posturing about the scruples involved in the choice to create a bomb and pick its targets, but even then such moral preening comes from those who take such reductive stances towards atrocities as a validation of their own unyielding and equally-destructive sense of nationalism. Through an intricate journey of moral justification and sincere optimism, Oppenheimer peels away thin veneers of moral righteousness until we are left with the idea that we are just as capable of our own self-destruction as we are of our possible redemption; everything else is just moral window dressing. The responsibility for what comes next is as much in the hands of those watching Oppenheimer as it was for the man it portrays–and by balancing this world-ending terror with the idea that we can still come together in the name of progress, Nolan hopes (perhaps in vain) that we’re as much creators of worlds as we are destroyers.
Oppenheimer hits theaters on July 21, 2023 courtesy of Universal Pictures.
-
THE MIRACLE CLUB Travels Familiar Territory
Photo credit: Jonathan Hession. © themiracleclubcopyright 2023. Courtesy of Sony Pictures
Classics.The Miracle Club stars a formidable cast; Kathy Bates, Laura Linney and Maggie Smith play characters from the same neighborhood in Dublin (in an unusual turn of events, American actors play Irish here instead of the other way around). It’s 1967 and their local church is sponsoring a bus to Lourdes, holy site of Saint Bernadette’s vision of Mary. Friends Eileen (Bates), Lily (Smith) and Dolly (Agnes O’Casey, Starz’s Dangerous Liaisons) enter a talent contest in hopes of winning two free tickets. Younger Dolly is mother to Daniel, a small redhead who doesn’t speak; Lily and Eileen’s troubles are less visible. Meanwhile Chrissie (Linney) has returned to town after a 40-year absence.
These noteworthy performers – even newcomer O’Casey – do their best with the material. Stephen Rea and Niall Buggy (Mamma Mia!) add some lighthearted moments as husbands left to fend for themselves as their wives go on the trip . The vibrant cinematography, eye-catching costuming and thoughtful production design make for a movie that is pretty to watch. The bright tones of Chrissie’s outfits and Dolly’s neon dresses pop on the screen.
Photo credit: Jonathan Hession. © themiracleclubcopyright 2023. Courtesy of Sony Pictures
Classics.The script, however — written by a team of three men — lacks a distinct voice, and the dialogue can be clunky. While the film explores themes of prejudice and forgiveness, the tone verges on maudlin instead of something more subtle. The “mystery” of Chrissie’s departure from her home country is predictable, and the clues given throughout are far too obvious.
The Miracle Club feels like something we’ve seen before. For that reason, it could be a comforting watch for some folks. But even when the film touches on challenging topics like suicide or the loss of a child, the filmmaker’s preference for corny and manipulative emotion makes it difficult to truly connect with the work as a viewer.
The Miracle Club opens in theaters nationwide on Fri, July 14.
-
AmnesiA is a Dark and Dreamy 90’s Hidden Gem
I really didn’t know what to expect when I first hit play on Martin Koolhoven’s (Winter in Wartime, Brimstone) Danish theatrical debut AmnesiA, but what I got has stuck with me since I sat down to watch it sight unseen a few weeks ago. The film was completed in 2001, but feels both visually and thematically imbued with the DNA of Gregg Araki’s Teenage Apocalypse Trilogy. The film stars Fedja van Huêt as Alex, a young man who is harboring a dark secret, called back to his rural home by his identical twin brother Aram (also Fedja van Huêt) to watch over their sick mother. When he gets in his car in the city a beautiful young woman appears in his backseat, played by a very young Carice van Houten, who starred in the director’s previous television film Susie Q. Most will probably recognize her from playing Melisandre, the Red priestess from Game of Thrones. It’s never really explained where she’s from or how she ended up in the back seat of Alex’s car, but the beautiful pyromaniac accompanies Alex and is passed off as his fiance.
It’s on their arrival that the film gets into full swing and the mysteries bubbling in the background really come to the forefront. Alex’s twin Aram shows up a few days into his stay after a botched robbery with his accomplice, who spends the majority of the film bleeding from a gut wound a la Reservoir Dogs. This is something that is strangely played to more comedic effect, as the Aram/Alex take feels like a performance that possibly informed Tom Hardy’s take in Legend. Ultimately sex, jealousy and family secrets are the raw materials that this film uses to tell its story of two brothers who did something unspeakable with the best of intentions that unraveled their family forever. How Martin Koolhoven slowly deals out the dream-like flashbacks to inform the audience on the event masterfully reveals the machinations behind how things not only came to be in the family, but how they are going to play out in the ending.
This was a total blind watch for me based solely on the cover and the distributor (Cult Epics) and I walked away just enamored with the film. While the film operates on dream logic, it’s the exquisite performances that make this film as memorable as it is. Fedja van Huêt just does an amazing job as both brothers, who feel different but eerily similar. He’s complemented by Carice van Houten, who feels like a mix of Claire Danes and Rose McGowan in her take on the mysterious femme fatale.
The two disc Blu-ray special edition comes not only with a new 4K transfer of AmnesiA, but an introduction by Martin Koolhoven and audio commentary by Martin Koolhoven, Fedja van Huet, moderated by Peter Verstraten. The second disc contains Martin Koolhoven’s TV films Suzy Q (1999) and Dark Light (Duister Licht) (1997) that both complement AmnesiA fairly well. If you’ve been curious about this one like I was and anything above further sparked your curiosity, I can’t recommend this title enough.
-
FREEWAY in 4K is a Gorgeous Presentation of a Film that Could NEVER be Made Today
You know when someone says an older film could never be made today?
Well, Freeway is one of those films that could NEVER be made today.
The film was produced by Oliver Stone who was still coming off the pop-culture juggernaut that was Natural Born Killers and looking to co-sign other films that went particularly hard just like that one did, which was written by none other than a pre-Reservoir Dogs Quentin Tarantino. Freeway has the violence you’d probably expect, along with the witty banter, with Reese Witherspoon even dropping a few N-bombs, that contextually and characteristically make sense. The film itself is a rather bleak take on the tale of Little Red Riding Hood, that has Witherspoon, pre-Cruel Intentions, playing our red leather jacket clad protagonist Vanessa, who may be illiterate but more than makes up for it in street smarts.
After her mother is arrested for prostitution and her abusive stepdad is taken away on a drug charge, Vanessa escapes from her parole officer, stealing her car and making a run for her grandmother’s house. (Just like the fairytale!) When her car breaks down she is picked up by Keifer Sutherland as the on the nose Bob Wolverton. He appears to be a good samaritan, but is in fact a serial killer targeting young troubled women along the freeway, who he believes wouldn’t be missed. When Bob reveals his plan to kill Vanessa, she decides to take it upon herself to do the “Lord’s work” and rid the world of Bob, shooting him multiple times. The problem is he survives, just horribly disfigured. Now it’s his word against hers at first, and she is taken off to jail as Bob becomes a media sensation as a warning against trusting our troubled youth, in another nod to NBK.
Simply put, Freeway walked so Rob Zombie could run, with its white trash on a rampage story of one girl who will make it to her grandma’s trailer park by any means necessary. The big difference here is unlike the Firefly family, Witherspoon is just so damn likable. It’s easy to see why she would go on to such iconic roles; she took a character that could have just been this lean and mean white trash stereotype, and while humanizing her, infused her with a real personality that has you genuinely rooting for her the entire time. This is something I think only an actor the caliber of Witherspoon could pull off, especially opposite Sutherland who, while as menacing as you’d expect, takes the character and gives him a righteous indignation that plays well against Vanessa’s underdog. Also of note here is Brittany Murphy, in another loose cannon role, similar to her role in Drive (1997), this time as a very horny prisoner, whose face is horribly disfigured.
Inspired by old school exploitation, Freeway is presented here by Vinegar Syndrome in a new 4K UHD remaster of the original director’s cut, and it’s painful how relevant this film still is. The film does get a bit cartoonish once Vanessa is sent to jail and her antics in the court really push the reality of the piece, but that’s that Natural Born Killers veneer. LIke all Vinegar Syndrome releases, the grain is left intact, with no DNR applied with a film-like presentation. It’s something I’ve begun to expect and appreciate about their releases is the fact that you watch one of their discs and it’s going to be like watching a film unspool opening night, not some gaussian blurred, shiny ass nightmare, like with some distros. It’s something those with bigger screens can appreciate when you see that warmth on screen.
Watching this once cable mainstay I saw countless times before, I was surprised at how much more it had to say. There’s a great subtext to the picture that really hits just as hard as its more sordid bits, as the film just keeps going bigger and bigger. None of this is lost on Witherspoon, who really just goes all in here in what’s easily one of my favorite performances from the actress. This is essentially an exploitation film, and she really is giving it her all. There’s a fearlessness on screen in that performance that allows her to get inside this character to deliver some real depth that is the difference between a film that becomes a cult film and one that doesn’t. Freeway is just a spitfire of a film that takes no prisoners and its something that will thankfully be seen by more people, the way it should be and looking like it was just shot yesterday.
-
PACIFIC RIM 10th Anniversary Retrospective
Looking Back at the Strangest Blockbuster of Them All
Ten years removed from its theatrical release on July 12, 2013, there is still no world in which Pacific Rim belongs.
Begin with the fact that is a truly original blockbuster film, with a budget listed somewhere between $180-$200 million. There’s no source material to cash in on, no larger universe to connect to or build off of. Other, comparable large-scale original sci-fi/fantasy efforts at least boasted proven movie stars as an insurance policy to get audience attention. The summer of 2013 alone saw Tom Cruise in Oblivion, Will Smith in After Earth, and Matt Damon in Elysium. Pacific Rim had no such backing with its ensemble cast of emerging talents, (leads Charlie Hunnam, Rinko Kikuchi and Idris Elba) character actors, (Charlie Day, Ron Perlman, Clifton Collins Jr.) and complete unknowns.
No, the star of the movie is the premise: Giant monsters (kaiju) have become a relentless attacking force against the world, so mankind bands together to create giant freaking mechs (jaegers) to combat them. Cue skyscraper demolition derbies and huge boats being swung like baseball bats.
Ten years ago, Pacific Rim seemed like a wild gamble: A studio risking a fortune on an original concept, a few promising Next Big Things, and, in director Guillermo del Toro, a cultishly adored filmmaker making a massive leap from even his own previous studio projects. At a time when there were already indications that studio heads had lost patience with precious auteurs and their expensive/expansive visions, when film studios were already showing reticence at best, outright terror at worst, of anything not backed by existing, already-popular IP, Pacific Rim was a big expansive/expensive auteur project that needed to generate the highest gross possible to be successful.
Did it work?
Well…
Ten years ago, Pacific Rim was a gamble. Today, it can only be described as an anomaly. Its like had never been seen before. It will probably never be seen again.
Pacific Rim was only possible at a cultural moment when geek tastes had achieved full mainstream acceptance. Sure, giant robots and/or giant monsters had been a part of our cultural lexicon for decades before this film, but watching Pacific Rim again recently it is striking how much the movie is steeped in the language of not only classic Japanese kaiju films, but in anime, comics, video games, etc. When Roland Emmerich brought Godzilla to America in the late ‘90s, he framed ‘Zilla through the template of the disaster movie (with a side order of Jurassic Park). This was also the approach adopted by JJ Abrams and Matt Reeves for Cloverfield, and it would be repeated again by Gareth Edwards only one year later with the next, better, effort at an American Godzilla film. In all cases, the strategy was to begin in a realistic world and to treat the incursion of the big scary monster as other films might a volcano going off, or an earthquake striking, or that one movie about twisters. What was that one called? It’ll come to me, don’t worry.
Pacific Rim doesn’t do that. Instead, the script, credited to del Toro and Travis Beacham from a story by Beacham, operates from the assumption that an audience conditioned by years and years of giant monster movies, Power Rangers, anime, manga, comics, other sci-fi films, video games, all that, that we don’t need this stuff carefully parceled out.
In 2013, del Toro could not only expect audiences to keep up, but he could actually sell a movie studio on that being the case. 2013 was just over a decade removed from X-Men and Spider-Man proving that there was a mass audience appetite for superheroes, with or without their iconic costumes. It was also a decade after the likes of Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings demonstrated how fully mainstream theatergoers would submit to expansive fantastical worlds. And it was eight years after Revenge of the Sith seemingly put Star Wars to bed, creating an opening for some other epic sci-fi adventure to capture hearts and minds the world over.
It stands to reason that a studio might look at that landscape and agree to a film that at times feels like the live-action adaptation of a 20-episode anime series that doesn’t actually exist. Hence, you got not only Pacific Rim but those other failed (or at least sharply divisive) attempts at creating new sci-fi/fantasy franchises that I mentioned earlier. Oblivion and Elysium made money but drew an ambivalent audience response and, like Pacific Rim, were so expensive that their tepid box offices can hardly be considered truly successful. After Earth was a disaster that took years for Will Smith to recover from, if he ever even really did.
At the same time that all of these films were struggling, Shane Black made a third Iron Man movie that people (wrongly) didn’t even like that much, and it still cruised to an easy billion dollars. Movies like Man of Steel, Thor: The Dark World, Star Trek Into Darkness, The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug, and Oz the Great and Powerful also came out in 2013 and were also greeted with something between general dissatisfaction and outright loathing. And yet, all did better, in many cases significantly better, than any of the original films I mentioned. Pacific Rim did better than any of those other originals, and it still lagged behind James fucking Franco and a shitty CGI talking monkey voiced by Zach Braff.
So, in a way, the gamble was correct. Audiences had indeed been primed to fully embrace high fantasy and oddball science fiction, to a degree that seemed impossible even a decade beforehand. But that acceptance was apparently only reliable when associated with brands and properties audiences already knew and trusted. Pacific Rim could only exist in its current form as a result of a specific cultural moment, but part of that same cultural moment was a hostility and wariness to the unknown and the eccentric, condemning the film to No Man’s Land before it ever played in a single theater.
When discussing the legacy of Pacific Rim, part of the conversation has to be the simple, unavoidable fact that plenty of people did show up to support the film in theaters, and just did not like it. Watching the film again ten years later, Pacific Rim’s flaws are part and parcel with its triumphs and no amount of love and admiration can overcome the places where del Toro missteps.
Since its release, the most consistent target for criticism has been Charlie Hunnam’s lead performance as Raleigh Becket. del Toro has long argued that Raleigh is the Luke Skywalker of the film, and as such his simplistic characterization and squeaky-clean earnestness is necessary to holding down the center of the complicated fictional world. Having a blandly heroic figure doing the narrative heavy lifting enables del Toro and Beacham to go as berserk as they want to with the mythology of their world, and with the larger-than-life characters that fill the margins of the story like Day’s gonzo scientist or (especially) Perlman’s swaggering underworld kingpin Hannibal Chau.
You see this same approach used for many a densely packed fantasy property with countless colorful supporting characters and Some White Guy as the actual star (nobody with the last name Stark was ever the most interesting character in any given scene of Game of Thrones). But it never sits particularly well on Hunnam, a good, often excellent, actor who seems crushed beneath the weight of carrying such a huge enterprise, especially when saddled with an unfortunate American accent that swallows up whatever charisma and personality he’s demonstrated numerous times in other projects. He’s far better served in his next collaboration with del Toro: the excellent Crimson Peak, which again casts him as the square-jawed earnest hero, but deploys him as a parody of that character type, one who proves to be a hindrance rather than a help to Peak’s heroine.
The other core problem with Pacific Rim is a bit of structural wonkiness: The movie just peaks too goddamn early. Midway through the film, del Toro stages one of the great sustained pieces of modern blockbuster action with a brawl between multiple kaiju and jaegers. As the various machines and monsters reveal escalating series of hidden powers and weapons, you can feel del Toro and his army of designers and visual effects artists having the time of their lives coming up with bigger/wilder/stranger action beats, their incredible imaginations unleashed by their budget and the most cutting-edge visual effects available.
Without fully embracing the shakycam aesthetic of so many other blockbusters of that era, del Toro makes sure that his digital camera has a tactile, weighted presence. This is spectacle that actually feels spectacular, establishing a visual language for how to capture humongous CGI creations that Edwards would deploy to tremendous acclaim the following year with his Godzilla (want to be clear: not trying to say Edwards ripped del Toro off, since that’s not how production schedules work. It’s just noteworthy).
There are many terrific sequences and moments in the remaining 40 minutes that follow the Hong Kong battle. Idris Elba gives a speech about cancelling the apocalypse, I mean, come on, that shit rules. But the movie downshifting to more long chats of exposition and melodrama is wearying after such a sustained shot of uninhibited gleeful destruction. Not helping that sense of balance is the actual climatic battle, which happens deep underwater. Not only is the setting dark and murky, but it’s so huge and empty that the size of the jaegers and the kaiju barely registers anymore.
Pacific Rim isn’t the only major blockbuster film to peak in Act 2 and then sort of sputter out in the second half. It isn’t even the worst offender, not by a long shot. But if you compare it to the likes of unequivocal original sci-fi hits Inception or Avatar, those are also films that spend a great deal of time inelegantly ladling in pages and pages of blunt-force exposition to explain the rules of their worlds and the personal stakes of the narrative for the protagonists. But once they get done making the audience eat every last scrap of vegetables, those films in their second halves become pure sugar rush, treating the audience to relentless, sustained, ecstatic action and soaring emotional crescendos.
It doesn’t help Pacific Rim that both of its leads, Raleigh and Mako, complete their respective emotional arcs during that mid-film sequence when they successfully overcome their personal traumas and Drift with one another and defeat the kaiju. Once this has been achieved, both Raleigh and Mako become little more than passive observers to a movie they had previously been driving.
This tracks with the themes of Pacific Rim. It is after all a film about how humanity as a collective can overcome any obstacle, rather than a story ‘only’ about two individuals coming to terms with their painful pasts. But, to butcher a line from Inception, emotional catharsis trumps thematic neatness every time, and so resolving both Raleigh and Mako’s arcs with 40 minutes left to go saps Pacific Rim’s final act of the feeling of triumph that it otherwise would have earned.
In the decade since the release of Pacific Rim, American media has only further embraced science fiction and fantasy as the genre(s) of choice for big budget mainstream entertainment. Everyday people can speak at length on the functions of Infinity Stones. A movie about the multiverse just won Best Picture at the Oscars. The big hit show of the year so far was a video game adaptation about depressed people dealing with mushroom zombies. del Toro won multiple Oscars for his movie about the torrid love affair between a mute woman and fish-man during the Cold War. Following the release of Pacific Rim, its studio, Warner Bros., launched “the Monsterverse”, providing a steady stream of movies (and now TV shows) featuring Godzilla and King Kong and the rest of their plus-sized brethren. There is no need to try to come up with new icons when you can just buy some that already exist and trust that folks will show up.
The nerds won.
It kind of sucks.
And even so, even as we’ve achieved geek-overload, there’s still nothing quite like Pacific Rim. Credit that to its sincerity, its optimism, its gorgeous Gothic/anime aesthetic, its massive practical sets married beautifully to CGI creations that still look excellent ten years later, or simply that del Toro loves every character and every creature here, and that love is palpable into every last detail of this imagined world, but Pacific Rim is still totally and completely singular. Maybe it’s as simple as the fact that Guillermo del Toro is a goddamn genius, and so he’s going to wring a whole lot more out of a couple hundred million than the plethora of non-geniuses that typically get entrusted with these things.
It’s easy to imagine that after another decade, we’ll still look back at Pacific Rim and scratch our heads as to how such a thing was ever allowed to be made, much less achieve something even resembling success.
And ten years from now, I probably still won’t know how this could have happened.
But I’ll still be glad that it did.
-
CHILE ’76 Is a Masterful Political Thriller
Aline Küppenheim in Chile ’76, Courtesy of Kino Lorber. Carmen, a chic abuela, redesigns her vacation home in the midst of Pinochet’s reign of terror in Chile ‘76. Involvement with an injured activist interrupts her daily routine — planning for family visits, reading to a group of blind folks in the town, redecorating the beach house — and forces her to pay closer attention to the horrific actions taken by the military in her country. Aline Küppenheim (A Fantastic Woman) delivers a haunting lead performance in Manuela Martelli’s tense feature directorial debut.
The quiet horror of the film begins with the first scene. The camera focuses on red paint being mixed as Carmen instructs a worker on her desired color; her instructions are interrupted by screams as an unseen woman on the street outside the shop is “disappeared.” The staff and clients of the hardware shop are stunned for a moment, then continue about their daily lives. This color mixing moment is visually alluded to later on, after Carmen has become entangled in a rescue attempt for Elías (Nicolás Sepúlveda in his first film role), the young man her priest (Hugo Medina) convinces her to aid. In Chile ’76, the domestic sphere is thus disrupted by the political.
Aline Küppenheim in Chile ’76, Courtesy of Kino Lorber. Carmen’s husband Miguel (Alejandro Goic, No, A Fantastic Woman) and son are both doctors in Santiago – Miguel even operates on military bigwigs – but both are hesitant to donate medical supplies when she asks. Miguel views his wife as a helpmeet, keeping things running in the vacation home while he stays in the city. She confesses to Elías her past wishes to be a doctor, her dreams dashed decades ago by a conservative father who had certain expectations for her as a woman.
Class and gender are pervasive themes in this thriller as Carmen comes from obvious wealth and had previous little exposure to those outside her privileged bubble, besides maid Estelita (Carmen Gloria Martínez). While others in her social circle espouse prejudices against the marginalized citizens of their country, she holds her tongue and takes everything in, hoping she won’t be caught.
The menace and danger of the screenplay, written by director Martelli and Alejandra Moffat, is amplified by the scoring from composer Mariá Portugal. Her music for Chile ’76 incorporates church bells, woodwinds, brass, and synthesizers, adding a chilling effect to the work. The cool blues and neutral tones prevalent in the film’s design recur often enough in the costuming and the sets that any pinks and reds that appear serve as a stark contrast. Such contemplation and consideration by the filmmakers and behind-the-scenes crew, along with Küppenheim’s elegantly taut lead performance, make Chile ‘76 a memorable film as well as an edge-of-your-seat thriller.
Still from Chile ’76, Courtesy of Kino Lorber. Chile ’76 is available via VOD and DVD from Kino Lorber on July 11.
-
MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE – DEAD RECKONING PART ONE Raises the Bar… Again
In a summer full of blockbusters offering up stale, pandering nostalgia, Tom Cruise and Christopher McQuarrie have arrived to show everyone how it’s done with their rip-roaring Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part One (hereafter M:I7). Theirs is a film bursting with action, humor, wit, and spectacle. M:I7 is a transportive experience. I felt like I was 11 years old again, back when each new movie you saw had the potential to be the coolest thing you’ve ever laid eyes on.
The plot, such as it matters, revolves around potentially world end—you know what? It doesn’t really matter. More than ever, the plot driving this movie forward feels irrelevant. There’s a doo-dad and a computer thingy that promises to destroy the world if it falls into the wrong hands. There’s a special key that requires two pieces joined together in order to do something bad. If you can track all the details of the plot, good on ya.
The script (credited to McQuarrie, Erik Jendresen, and the late creator of the M:I television series Bruce Geller) doesn’t even try to keep a straight face when delivering story exposition. The number of times characters refer to something called “The Entity” is worthy of its own supercut. It’s a joke the movie is fully aware of and leans into for increasingly rewarding laughs. That pretty much sums up the whole attitude of M:I7. Cruise, McQuarrie, and everyone else are completely aware of what they’re making and who they’re making it for.
M:I7 feels like it’s practically sprinting from the time it opens, maintaining its breakneck pace and getting stronger the longer it goes on. It’s not a major revelation to say this series runs like a machine at this point, but it’s truer than it’s ever been. Ethan (Cruise), Luther (Ving Rhames), and Benji (Simon Pegg) run a three-man weave through one precarious situation after another. The characters and actors have the chemistry reminiscent of other top-shelf star fests like the Ocean’s films. The way McQuarrie mixes thrills and laughs in nearly every scene only works if the cast is game enough to sell it. That extends to returning players like Ilsa (Rebecca Ferguson) and White Widow (Vanessa Kirby) down to new faces Paris (Pom Klementieff), Grace (Hayley Atwell), Gabriel (Esai Morales), Jasper (Shea Whigham), and on down the line. As the action jumps around the globe from one exotic locale to another, M:I7 — more so than previous entries — feels like Rat Race (or It’s a Mad Mad Mad Mad World if you’re more sophisticated). There are three different factions in pursuit of the key and the ever-evolving alliances and duplicities provide constant surprises and laughs.
In McQuarrie, a great writer and increasingly great director, Cruise has found the perfect complement. Whether it’s a foot chase, a shootout, a fist fight or city-spanning car chase, or just a scene meant to knock out some exposition, Cruise and McQuarrie never take the easy out.
Back when I was 11 I got my first real dose of summer blockbuster glory with Twister and Independence Day. In the nearly 30 summers since, I’ve certainly seen better movies. But I haven’t seen many that recaptured that initial feeling. M:I7 did. To paraphrase Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol director Brad Bird, this is popcorn cinema at its finest, hot and fresh.
Like this year’s other premier blockbuster action franchise entry John Wick 4, the sense of gamesmanship and competition is palpable in every frame. M:I7 isn’t just trying to outdo the nearly insurmountable Fallout, it’s trying to top every other action movie. If I really think about it, I’m not sure if it quite gets there, but in the moment with one insane setpiece after another unfolding, it might be close.
-
Screen Comparisons: Arrow’s DOLLS (Empire of Screams Box Set) vs 2014 Blu-ray
This article contains several comparisons which contrast the older Shout! Factory Blu-ray transfer with the new Arrow restoration. The frames aren’t necessarily exact matches, but should give a solid indication of the visual differences.
Just released and already hard to find due to its limited pressing, “Enter the Video Store: Empire of Screams” is a collection of several terrific Empire International Pictures titles. Most have had previous releases on Blu-ray before from Scream Factory, which might have collectors wondering whether to repurchase.
Unlike The Dungeonmaster and Cellar Dweller which were released relatively unadorned in 2015 (as part separate double features), Stuart Gordon’s Dolls got full deluxe “Collector’s Edition” treatment, packed with extras. At the time of its release in 2014, Dolls did not indicate any mention of a new restoration (something Scream Factory typically advertises it its press and ad copy), suggesting that it may have been an older transfer even at the time.
Arrow’s new edition, on the other hand, features a new 2K restoration from the original interpositive.
My observations of the new release:
- A boost in clarity and fineness of grain (very typical for Arrow releases)
- The grain is very prominent – it’s a somewhat noisy looking print.
- Brighter picture reveals a lot more nuanced detail previously obscured in shadows.
- In terms of framing, Arrow’s disc is just a hair tighter and has some slight letterboxing.
- The first half hour or so has a slight horizontal stretch. It’s imperceptible when watching the movie, but is evident in the direct comparisons.
The “slider” images below allow for a quick comparison of the stills from both discs by color, cleanliness, framing, but are downscaled and not representative of the full 1080p resolution. These are only illustrative of differences, and not definitive, especially in terms of resolution and clarity.
For a truer direct comparison, it’s recommended to download the image files and view them at full size on a large monitor with 1080p or higher resolution. You can download all images at full resolution in a single file zipfile below:
Empire Logo: On Arrow Blu-ray only 
L: Old Shout! Factory // R: New Arrow Video 
L: Old Shout! Factory // R: New Arrow Video 
L: Old Shout! Factory // R: New Arrow Video 
L: Old Shout! Factory // R: New Arrow Video 
L: Old Shout! Factory // R: New Arrow Video 
L: Old Shout! Factory // R: New Arrow Video 
L: Old Shout! Factory // R: New Arrow Video 
L: Old Shout! Factory // R: New Arrow Video 
L: Old Shout! Factory // R: New Arrow Video 
L: Old Shout! Factory // R: New Arrow Video 
L: Old Shout! Factory // R: New Arrow Video 
L: Old Shout! Factory // R: New Arrow Video 
L: Old Shout! Factory // R: New Arrow Video 
L: Old Shout! Factory // R: New Arrow Video 
L: Old Shout! Factory // R: New Arrow Video 
L: Old Shout! Factory // R: New Arrow Video 
L: Old Shout! Factory // R: New Arrow Video 
L: Old Shout! Factory // R: New Arrow Video 
L: Old Shout! Factory // R: New Arrow Video 
L: Old Shout! Factory // R: New Arrow Video Spoilers
I’ve separated the last few shots as they might be considered spoilery in revealing certain moments or plot points. If you haven’t seen the film you might want to stop here.
L: Old Shout! Factory // R: New Arrow Video 
L: Old Shout! Factory // R: New Arrow Video 
L: Old Shout! Factory // R: New Arrow Video -
THE KID WITH THE GOLDEN ARM – Shawscope Vol. 2 – Roundtable Reviews
Cinapse is all about cinematic discovery. This Shawscope Volume 2 column is, therefore, a watch project for our team, and guests, to work through this phenomenal set from Arrow Video. These capsule reviews are designed to give glimpses of our thoughts as we discover these films for ourselves. Some are kung fu cinema experts, some less so; all are excited for the adventure.
The Hong Kong-based Shaw Brothers Studio cranked out a staggering number of feature films over its lifetime. With worldwide influence continuing to this very day, their contributions to cinema are myriad and undeniable. Arrow Video has curated a second volume of titles; an intentional way to wade into the deep waters of the Shaw Brothers. Beyond capsule reviews, our team also offers thoughts on the set curation and bonus features. Watch along with us, join us in the comments, or reach out on social media (linked below) if you’d like to submit your own
Ed Travis
One of my earliest forays into cinephilia was when I started renting Hong Kong action films from my local mom and pop video store. This would’ve been in the late 1990s and I became a lifelong fan of John Woo’s Hard Boiled (which I still consider to be perhaps the greatest action film of all time). And so it was to my great surprise when we started watching all these Shaw Brothers films together for this project that I realized that Hard Boiled’s Mad Dog himself, Mr. Phillip Kwok, had gotten his start as a major player in the Shaw Brothers world. So with that in mind, I have to say that I did very much enjoy The Kid With The Golden Arm as, despite not playing the titular character, this really is Kwok’s film. Here we’ve got a fairly strong and propulsive plot, which is par for the course for the legendary Chang Cheh. There’s a security firm tasked with transporting a massive amount of gold, so they’re manning up to be a formidable force in case the Deadly Valley gang attacks… which, of course, they do. The titular kid is actually the villain of this picture, the most fearsome criminal in the gang (played by Shaw regular and super handsome Lo Meng). Along for the adventure is Sheriff Hai To (Kwok). Kwok leans into the role of a devilishly drunken lawman. Always laughing, drinking, and one step ahead of all the other players in the ensemble. There are mysteries, betrayals, and epic battles as this shipment of gold makes its way to its destination, and Kwok is the spark and lifeblood of the whole thing, having a blast with his larger than life character. As someone who knows him as the mostly silent and deadly Mad Dog, this is a big departure and shows the incredible skill set Kwok really had on screen. Invincible Shaolin probably edges this one out for me on this set, but I love Kwok’s central and starring role here.
Dan Tabor
The Kid with the Golden Arm is another Chang Cheh beat’em up starring the Venom Mob, and while still a bit overstuffed compared to other Shaw films on the set, this one fared better to me than Invincible Shaolin. The device of transporting 2 tons of gold to a famine stricken area definitely would bring out the worst in most, and this understandably brings out the whole Chi Sha gang and its four chiefs all named after their fighting speciality. The fights are bloody as expected, with Kuo Chui’s Agent Hai Tao and Lo Mang’s Golden Arm the clear MVPs here. While the drunken rascal has definitely become a well worn archetype on this set at this point, it’s how Kuo Chui interacts with Miss Leng Feng (Helen Poon) here that really gives the character a bit more depth than expected. That and his defiant relationship with Golden Arm never lets you stop guessing on where he stands.
Where the film works is the premise is just ambiguous enough to keep the morality muddy, and all the characters in play as possible double agents. I mean after all, that’s a lot of gold. I also think Cheh does a better job at juggling this ensemble and playing on the strengths to deliver characters that all have a memorable hook and a purpose in the narrative.
Justin Harlan
The Kid with the Golden Arm isn’t a new one for me… but that’s to be expected as I went on a crazy Venom Mob binge during the lockdown in 2020. My Letterboxd entry from my previous watch says the following:
Really all you need to know is that the final line of this film is, “Now I’m going to go get drunk”
I stand by this. It really is the only thing you need to know. But if I must say more, let me epand on Golden Arm himself. Lo Mang is probably my favorite member of the Mob, so it’s nice to see him get the shine here. Lots of familiar elements in the story structure and beats, but that’s not a bad thing. The Mob is best when they stick to their format. It’s not common, from my experience at least, that Mang gets to be the guy, so that’s the one thing that truly stands out.
This is my favorite film of this set so far for sure… and with this beautiful restoration, it creep sup my Shaw list – and my Cheh list, as well. Top tier stuff. Such a blast.
And We’re Out.
-
PRISON GIRLS 3D Delivers the Sleazy Goods and There’s Nothing Wrong with That!
1972’s Prison Girls 3D which just hit Blu-ray thanks to Kino and the 3-D Archive, is exactly the kind of gnarly softcore sleaze you’d expect with a title like that. Directed by Tom DeSimone, the director of Savage Streets, Hell Night and the iconic 80s women in prison flick Reform School Girls, the film follows the misadventures of six female prisoners who, after exemplary behavior, are granted a weekend furlow. The film is presented on Blu-ray, in not only regular frame sequential 3D, but also anaglyph red/blue 3D for those without a 3D setup, and even standard 2D. The disc does also come with a pair of anaglyph 3D glasses, which has been a smart move by Kino.
Of course the film opens with the requisite shower fight, but in 3D. Thankfully, this transgression is disregarded by the progressive prison psychologist, Doctor Reinhart, who hopes the women will use the weekend to reacclimate to the real world before their release.The crux of the drama here is the cops are after small-time criminal Johnny Bricker, who just shot up a bank and is on the run. He’s been rumored to have been dating one of the six women, so as each story plays out, we patiently wait to discover which woman was Johnny’s main squeeze. Coming in at the tail end of the era of free love, the psychologist even offers one of the prisoners her vacant apartment for the weekend to hopefully spark a sexual awakening in their marriage.
Expect plenty of skin, a psychedelic soundtrack, bizarre discussions on the perks of communal love, bodypainting, abusive pimps and biker gangs, in a film that delivers an episodic 3D sexposé as each woman discovers the grass isn’t always greener. Featuring a cast of genre regulars the likes of Uschi Digard (Supervixens), Candy Samples (Flesh Gordon),Tracy Handfuss (A Clockwork Blue) and Maria Arnold (Meatcleaver Massacre) Prison Girls sticks to the assignment while pushing its softcore moniker as far as it can. Shot with a 3D 16mm camera system, Prison Girls is grimy and a bit rough around the edges, but that only enhances the viewing experience and subject matter.
If that wasn’t enough the film also features an informative audio commentary by Horror-Fix.com’s James G. Chandler and Ash Hamilton who do an excellent job as offering up some context on the film’s history and its rather well endowed cast. While the film is light on the gags, we do get 3D showers and a pimp trying to put a cigarette out on us from the 3rd dimension! It is heavy on the salacious drama and even stumbles into some really dark and non-consensual places. First and foremost Prison Girls is about the lurid & badly simulated sex, and it deals that out in spades, but it also strangely enough never misses the opportunity to also deliver a dose of odd morality when it comes to our protagonists. That being said, Prison Girls 3D is exactly as advertised, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.
