Screen Rush is the blog of film critic and journalist Eric Kohn, whose work regularly appears in indieWIRE, New York Press, Filmmaker, Moviemaker, Heeb Magazine and a half dozen other outlets. A true twenty-first century movie buff, his writing centers around the impact of new media on the moving image, the changing face of film criticism, and the tempestuous relationship between pop culture and independent artistry. This site includes links to his recently published work and allows for additional thoughts on cinema's modern state. E-mail Eric at erichkohn(at)gmail(dot)com.
Korean director Bong Joon-ho’s movies are marked by death, a constant sense of danger, and the unraveling of family bonds. They also feature something atypical of genre film, however: a lingering comedic vibe.
Predominantly known for his satiric monster movie “The Host,” a 2006 box office smash in Korea that garnered a cult following for the filmmaker in the United States, Bong crafts his distinctive vision by forcing realism into the unlikely realm of genre conventions. His latest movie, “Mother,” essentially functions as a detective story, though the investigator in question is a trenchant middle-aged woman seeking to rescue her son from false accusations of murder. What begins as a playful look at an overprotective parent eventually morphs into something far more grim and provocative. In other words, vintage Bong.
I had a pleasant chat with Spike Jonze yesterday for the release of his new documentary, Tell Them Anything You Want: A Portrait of Maurice Sendak, which came out on DVD this week. At a concise 40 minutes, the movie is genuinely touching and entirely sustained by Sendak’s colorful personality from the very first scene. (See above for a clip of the octogenarian to get a sense for his endearing shtick.)
I also asked Spike about the changing face of indie film distribution, since he had a short film at Sundance and made another one with Kanye West that leaked online before it could be sold on iTunes. Here’s what he told me:
With the Kanye thing, our experiment was going to be putting it out on iTunes. With the short film, the experiment was to get it funded by Absolut Vodka. There are many ways to get the story out there. Smarter people than me are trying to figure it out.
John Pierson’s essential 1995 tome, “Spike, Mike, Slackers and Dykes: A Guided Tour Across a Decade of American Independent Cinema,” features interstitial Q&As with a 24-year-old Kevin Smith designated as the book’s hesitant “generational spokesman.” At one point, he strikes a prescient tone: “Note to myself,” he says. “If I ever in a future life get a new start as a first-time filmmaker, give me lines to be funny with.” With Smith’s lack of screenwriting credit on “Cop Out,” that new life has ostensibly begun, but the essential Smith contradiction remains agreeably intact. In another 15 years, who knows?
What makes a post-apocalyptic story tick? In most cases, it’s the perseverance of hope engulfed in irrevocable catastrophe. Consider the track record: Three “Mad Max” movies take place in a dreary wasteland. Each features Mel Gibson as a bloodthirsty wanderer with revenge on his mind and a scowl on his face. The character engages in epic battles and always wins out, but the world around him never changes. Things went to shit long ago and he can’t fix that; he can only remedy the specifics of his personal situation. This pattern has a realistic streak: When the world as we know comes to an end, it’s an every-man-for-himself situation.
Now take a look at “Waterworld” and the quest for dry land. I’m hardly down on this movie to the extent that popular consciousness has derided it for years, but there’s something to be said for the cheesiness of its finale. Set up a world that has to start from scratch and then suddenly - poof! - a little bit of the old world comes to the rescue. Audiences know better than that. Envisioning a change to the way things work, they want to see how things work anew. At least, that’s how this audience member feels.
Which brings me to “The Book of Eli.” A slick, occasionally badass post-apocalyptic story in which Denzel Washington plays a hardened wanderer looking to safeguard the last King James Bible on Earth, the movie spends a solid half hour steeped in a fantastically crafted downbeat aura. The Hughes brothers, whose breakout film “Menace II Society” displayed their preference for dark stories about alienated characters, maintain an admirably detailed setting: Their world is steeped in evocative sepia tones that underscore their haunting vision of the future gone awry. Washington, as Eli, wields a sword with samurai-like precision as he continues on his path at all costs. His trajectory, however, becomes jeopardized when the corrupt ruler of a ghost town (Gary Oldman) decides he needs to get his hands on Eli’s precious religious tome.
Gary Oldman in The Book of Eli; courtesy Warner Bros. Pictures
Gary Oldman in “The Book of Eli”; courtesy Warner Bros. Pictures
But why, exactly? “The Book of Eli” lacks a clear-cut explanation for the value of the Bible in a dead world, so unless you’re a religious sort and subscribe to one particular ideological persuasion, the character motivation rings a tad hollow.
I love David and Nathan Zellner’s 2008 Sundance feature Goliath—and they’ve done a lot of other cool things, too. Check out the first episode of their insanely trippy online series F I D D L E S-T-I-X-X above.
These guys don’t make movies in accordance with natural laws. They’re less concerned with conventional rules of storytelling than with figuring out how to defy them. Their first feature, Goliath, brilliantly expands on the lunatic tendencies set forth in their shorts, and yet it’s not pure farce. The movie has a fully developed character, sincere emotional value, and feels like it exists in the real world. The Zellners combine a YouTube-like preference for irreverent sketch comedy with an authentic understanding of human behavior, which makes them ideal representations of twenty-first century indie filmmaking. Here’s my take on Goliath, which hit DVD this week, for GreenCine Daily:
David and Nathan Zellner’s Goliath is a passionate ode to old ties and new beginnings, steeped in metaphor, strangely evocative, yet hilariously deranged. The Austin-based sibling filmmakers seemingly know the tropes of mainstream comedy and work against them. A plot synopsis tells you almost nothing: Though essentially the story of one man’s ties to his cat, the movie operates on a singularly bizarre narrative plain based around the ramifications of becoming a social pariah. It moves along in fragments of scenes, sudden outbursts and extended pauses. A climactic sequence involves as much emotional finality as it does absurdity and mayhem. In the final minutes, it’s like a Looney Tunes cartoon came to life, invaded suburbia and absorbed its discontents. In other words, Goliath is purely unique cinema.
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