martes, 29 de marzo de 2011

Sin #93: Higher Ground

Imagine a stark, dirty room on top of a complex housing building, facing a city highlighted by bright neon lights. A man lights up his pipe and, suddenly, the bright stains outside become abstractions, kaleidoscopic fractals of surreal, ethereal beauty. The bliss of this heightened reality doesn’t last very long and the man turns away and goes on his very last job as a dealer.

We are forced to relate to this man, forced to see through his eyes and forced to remember his childhood, his parents’ tragic accident and his relationship with his sister, another lonely soul wandering the streets of Tokyo through the dangers of drug addiction and prostitution.


“Enter the Void” is a fascinating experiment, but not quite a successful one. It pulls us in, deeply, into the lives of broken and ultimately empty human beings and tries to give some spiritual weight to their experiences. Some images burn the screen and remain powerful as isolated shorts but they never quite gel as a cohesive whole. And after the film goes through the very simple arc of its characters, it goes on in a compulsory and repetitive succession of meaningless transitions. Here’s a film that could easily lose about 45 minutes of its run time and probably benefit from it.


The director, Gaspar Noe, shows a unique vision by seamlessly blending digital effects with optical tricks and weird camera angles. The movie is visually amazing even if ultimately pointless (it establishes its creativity from the very beginning with a chaotic and startling title sequence).


Noe was also responsible for the controversial “Irreversible” with its infamous rape scene featuring Monica Bellucci. That movie was also a visceral experiment in revenge and sexual violence in film filled with visual panache and focused performances. “Irreversible” is not a pleasant time at the theater but it’s a more accomplished movie than “Enter the Void” (even though its technical wonders kind of compensate for its lack of structure).


The best movie about addiction remains Darren Aronofsky’s “Requiem for a Dream”. It’s an acting tour de force and also an intense experience that plunges us into the very heart of darkness. The first time I saw it I was completely blown away by its directing style (Aronofsky uses close-ups, acute sounds and split screens to emulate the experience of taking drugs), and after multiple viewings I focused on the actors who really bare their souls for their roles. Ellen Burstyn in particular, achieves an astonishing transformation as a lonely widow gradually losing her mind. The film closes with a brutal and mesmerizing montage that culminates with the horrific consequences for each of the characters. “Requiem for a Dream” invests in its characters and sort of makes them implode through their addictions and, by avoiding any kind of catharsis, it gives the story a heartbreaking ache. “Enter the Void” isn’t nowhere near as poignant since its characters are empty shells; merely narrative vehicles for its audacious style.


None of these movies, however, glorify the experience of taking drugs and offer a raw glimpse into hell. By not patronizing an audience and offering a contrived happy ending, they remain powerful indictments against addiction.

jueves, 3 de marzo de 2011

Sin #92: Killing Field

Every smart psychopath finds a way to avoid getting caught. But, in a way, they’re flirting with that danger at every moment, relishing the wit of their actions. Some men kill as a form of punishment, others kill to satisfy an uncontrollable urge.

Take Lou Ford in “The Killer Inside Me”. As played by Casey Affleck he is the shy and likable sheriff of a small town, an exemplary citizen. After he gets entangled with a troubled prostitute, dark passions get stirred and Lou not only finds himself a beater but also finds a victim who enjoys it.

“The Killer Inside Me” is a dark movie, not only because of its graphic violence against women (as seen in a brutal scene with Jessica Alba that stirred great controversy after its premier in the Sundance Film Festival) but mostly because of the cold nature of its protagonist. Ford always remains an enigma throughout and even when we see flashbacks of a disturbed youth, we never truly get inside his head. It’s this sort of detachment that makes the movie strangely compelling as if saying that true evil can never be fully explained.

Every time I see a movie about a psychopath I’m reminded of Patrick Bateman, one of the most memorable killers ever portrayed onscreen as adapted from one of the most controversial books ever published. Bateman sits in a luxurious penthouse, waking every morning to perform his body rituals and staring into a mirror that doesn’t quite reflect the monster within. His life is really just a superficial façade of vanity and poise; except when he is killing, when it can get really dirty.

I love “American Psycho”, mostly because of Christian Bale’s fascinating performance that walks a fine line between restraint and madness but also because how director Mary Harron keeps pulling the rug on our perceptions of Bateman. After its ending, we’re left wondering if in fact the murders were all in his head.

When Bret Easton Ellis published his novel in 1991, feminists around the country called it misogynist and sadistic, failing to view it as a satire of the Wall Street mentality of the 80s. Ellis was surprised since he never intended to write a work of violence towards women but more of a twisted depiction of male vanity. “American Psycho “became a hot item in Hollywood during the 90s with many actors and filmmakers interested in the project (at one point it was going to be directed by Oliver Stone and Bateman was going to be played by Leonardo DiCaprio, who later turned it down for the simple reason that it was definitely going to affect his good boy persona from movies like “Romeo and Juliet” and “Titanic”). It’s great irony that a woman became the director of “American Psycho” and that she made a great adaptation of the material. Ellis’s novels are often hard to adapt since they’re mostly overindulgent with their dark undercurrent of the rich and glamorous (I admit that his “Glamorama” was a pretty dense read).

Some killers find a code to base their immoral actions. Dexter Morgan, from the brilliant TV show “Dexter”, punishes criminals in orders to satisfy his thirst of blood. His father was a policeman who understood his killer instincts and helped him to use them as a way of vigilance. Dexter’s whole life has been about control although sometimes it slips his grasp, especially in his personal relationships.

Ford, Bateman and Morgan are completely different killers but they all live with what Dexter lovingly calls his “dark passenger”. While their actions are morally reprehensible, as characters, they are very entertaining to watch.