This movie helped pave the way for common practices in film as we know them today. Norman Bates was a gold mine for character study, and the infamous shower scene has become common curriculum for film classes around the world. Alfred Hitchcock is the master of mystery and suspense, but there's certainly no mystery as to why if you've seen this film.

Marion Crane (Janet Leigh) is a simple woman that has a fairly complicated problem. She's been seeing Sam Loomis (John Gavin), who lives in California, and they're both madly in love and wish to marry. However, he lives on very little money and wouldn't be able to support her. He's stuck in a rut of paying alimony to his ex-wife. On top of that, he also lives in California, which is a bit of a hike from where Marion lives. They continue to see each other when they can, but they want more. They're tired of feeling like they're sneaking around, and want to make it official.

After a rendezvous with Sam during her lunch break, she heads back to work. She's given $40,000 to deposit in the bank for her employer, and she decides to take the money and use it to start the new life with Sam they've always dreamed about.

On her way to California, she stops at the Bates Motel for some much needed rest, and is welcome by owner and caretaker, Norman Bates. He's a very nice man, but reveals to Marion his life as a prisoner. He's bound to that hotel, because he takes care of his sickly mother in the house on the hill out back. It used to bother him, but the very thought of leaving his controlling mother behind fills him with guilt. After Marion finishes her increasingly awkward conversation with Norman, she retires to her room for the evening... and that's the last time anybody sees her alive.

Over the next week, Marion's sister and Sam grow increasingly worried over her sudden disappearance. Their worry is only heightened when a detective that's on the hunt for the missing forty grand starts to confirm their suspicion that Marion's dead. All signs point back to the Bates Motel, but the case is far from being solved. Despite the obvious answer as to where Marion disappeared, how, and why, are the real reasons why you must see this film if you've never done so before.

I can't say anything about Psycho that hasn't been said before. As I mentioned, it's common curriculum for film 101. So, I'm going to tell you why Psycho works so well for me, even after all the years worth of repeat viewing.

Alfred Hitchcock deceives the audience not just through mystery, but in the way the story is told. From the beginning of the film we follow the life of Marion Crane. She's set up to be the central character for the film. It's not as if she just rolls on screen and the infamous shower scene happens in the first ten minutes to set up the mystery. We get to know her, become comfortable with her, and then the shower scene happens and the game changes considerably. It's something you wouldn't expect, and I've never been able to shake the concept of how masterfully Hitchcock played this out.

Pyscho also manages to do something very few movies have ever done for me. The entirety of the film is laced with extremely intense discomfort. For one reason or another, there's always a sense of a cat and mouse game going on. Sure, the concept itself isn't revolutionary, but Hitchcock was able to work it effectively from beginning to end. Everything was crafted to create an atmosphere that kept you on the edge of your seat, from camera angles, lighting, the acting, pacing, as well as using some subliminal photography. There are numerous things Hitchcock had to fight about with the MPAA, so he relied heavily on making something as integral as the shower scene, trick you into seeing something you didn't really see. Incredible amounts of hard work and nit-picky oversight from Hitchcock made this film what it is, and it shows in every frame. I do mean every frame, too.

Some director's put every piece of their soul and being in a movie, and fail miserably. Some, work just as hard and get some very nice recognition for their work. Hitchcock's Psycho however, is an extremely rare case where its effectiveness still works just as good today, as it did back then. That's a quality that very few movies in cinematic history can boast about...

...Psycho is a masterful creation of atmosphere and suspense. This is a film that plays some very dirty tricks on the audience to continually make you sit on the edge of your seat, even after numerous repeat viewings. It's hard to imagine anyone who claims to be a film lover, not appreciating one of the most influential films of all time. Hitchcock was a perfectionist every step of the way whenever it came to any of his masterpieces, and Psycho is a film that looks as close to perfection as anything I've ever seen. I dare you to find a single frame in the film where the cinematography doesn't show the amount of effort that went in camera angling or lighting to provide a feature length amount of chills.

Henson's flirtation with darker material and his curiosity with the thorns of invented mythology found a cozy home in "Crystal." It's a film intended for those who beg for a sense of adventure to their cinema, who revel in the joy of a filmmaker taking a risk and questing vigilantly to raise the art form a few needed notches. "Crystal" is a miraculous rush of innovation and storytelling patience, and, in the last 25 years, the film has grown from a 1982 misfire, to a cult wonder, to a bona-fide classic that's timeless in stature and masterful in execution.

When I write about the film now, I do so from a cradle of absolute reverence. However, ask my opinion when I was a wee lad, and "Crystal" was probably the scariest ride in town. While Henson adored his young audience, he was never one to pander to the nose-pickers, preferring to challenge their eyes with visions of evil and the restorative effects of good; the ultimate battle of destiny between the kindly Mystics (or urRu) and the wicked Skeksis.

What's exhilarating about "Crystal" is that Henson and his collaborators (including co-director Frank Oz) were manufacturing a fairy tale from their own creative well. While influenced by the great fantasy works of the world, Henson paved his own road here; he made certain every corner of the frame was bestowed with a mysterious creature or laborious design effort that created a consuming three-dimensional depth. Honestly, I've never seen such extraordinary effort placed into a feature-film before, and the way Henson and Oz take their time to let the details marry the film's glacial, dreamy pace is endlessly impressive. It's a directorial job of pure faith, and a design accomplishment (courtesy of wizard Brian Froud) that's heart-stopping every inch of the way.

Sure, we have glossy cinematic juggernauts today like Peter Jackson's "Lord of the Rings" trilogy, yet "Crystal" is a film you can nearly reach out and caress; blessed with unmistakable attention placed to the weathered fabrics and wrinkled skin of the characters, not to mention Oswald Morris's luxurious cinematography, which wields splendid coloring like a lethal weapon - I've never viewed a more menacing shade of purple in my life.

Of course, all this is in service of the puppetry, which, at the time (and still is today), was an outrageous advancement in the field; Henson pushed his team to new limits of expression and sheer character size in the roles. With the vulture-like Skeksis, the performers sell the rancid, decaying regality of the species marvelously: a collection of vile beings in full-on panic and deception mode after learning their existence is drawing to a leisurely, painful close. The Mystics are the counter argument: kindly creatures who move with Zen-like grace and march willingly to their fate. Characters like astronomer Aughra and stilt-creations The Landstriders reveal their own lovable novelty, but the blockbuster accomplishments of the film are the Gelflings Jen and Kira, and the exquisiteness of their reactions. They invite a striking level of sympathy for what is essentially a ball of felt with glass eyes and perfectly coiffed hair.

I supposed what "Dark Crystal" boils down to is a mosaic of bravery. It's brave of the production to seek out their own legends and invent their own cocktail of spirituality for a small assembly of puppets. It's brave of the film to demand performers search within themselves to lend invaluable reality to their characters, even if it meant unbearably stifling hours stapled to a partner under layers of wool and rubber. And it's brave of Henson to submit to his loyal audience a demanding piece of storytelling and visual complexity that's miles away from Miss Piggy, Fozzie, and our pal Kermit. There's not a day that goes by where I don't appreciate this monumental leap of filmmaking faith.

FINAL THOUGHTS: Yes, "The Dark Crystal" is a perfect film, and as new generations grow to understand its exquisiteness, the more precious an experience the motion picture becomes. I could watch the film a hundred times and still discover new corners that I've never noticed before, or sly performance quirks that register differently now than they did when I was a child. The picture is a snowballing creation of pure imagination and remains Henson's professional crown jewel. 25 years later, the film hasn't lost a step as a crucial fantasy touchstone, and, in a wonderful twist of fate, continues to amaze people of all ages to this day.

Martin Scorsese's Taxi Driver remains one of the finest cinematic achievements of the 1970s and even now, three decades plus since it was made, the film has lost none of its power or relevancy. If anything, given the current political climate of the United States at the time of this writing, the film is just as poignant now as it has ever been. Not only is the film an allegorical piece on the issues that those returning from military service may or may not have to deal with but it also remains an interesting portrait of a socially ostracized and dangerous human being, something we've unfortunately never had any shortage of in the 'real world.'

For the three of you out there who haven't seen Taxi Driver, Robert De Niro plays Travis Bickle, a Viet Nam vet living in New York City who takes a job driving a cab at night. Travis is a loner, he's out there a bit as far as social skills are concerned and he just doesn't relate to the masses. He also sees the New York City he lives and works in as a cesspool, a sewer full of the worst that humanity has to offer. His occupation does nothing but reinforce this for him, as he is routinely forced to deal with junkies, whores and assholes - it's all part of the job.

Things look up for Travis when, seemingly by chance, he meets a beautiful woman named Betsy (Cybill Shepherd long before Moonlighting) who works for presidential hopeful, Charles Palantine (Leonard Harris). He's instantly attracted to her but their courtship soon becomes sour when they can't relate to one another. After Travis takes her to a 42nd St. porno theater on a date, she decides she wants nothing to do with him and the screws start to come loose upstairs for our hero. Shortly after, he runs into an underage prostitute named Iris (a young Jodie Foster) and they develop a strange relationship. Travis, after learning of her plight, takes it upon himself to do what he can to clean up the seedy side of the city, and American Cinema forever changed.

Mick Jagger once sang 'Go ahead, bite the Big Apple, don't mind the maggots.' Unfortunately not everyone can be as selective with their diet as Mick, and Taxi Driver is very much a movie for those people. Anyone who has ever spent a large portion of their time in the heart of an urban metropolis, be it New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, or even Toronto, has no doubt been witness to criminal activity. Whether it's drug dealing, prostitution or theft, crime and violence is to a certain extent a way of life in any major metropolitan area. De Niro, as Travis Bickle, represents that side of us that gets fed up with things. Granted, he's far from healthy - he is quite insane when it all comes down to it - but part of what gives Taxi Driver its power is that Travis Bickle lies inside so many normal, every day citizens.

Bickle is far from a model citizen. His obsession with pornography is probably quite unhealthy and it could very well be part of the reason he's unable to relate to women on what many of us would consider a normal level. He's obviously got a bit of a temper, which we see erupt by the time that the film finishes and there are moments in the film where it's made perfectly clear to us that Travis just 'doesn't get it' as far as other people are concerned. That said, despite what happens in the last twenty-minutes of the picture, is he really the bad guy? Is Travis completely at fault for what happens or is society? Has he been pushed too far? Is he a complete psychopath or, as he says, is he simply someone who stood up?

One of the most remarkable aspects of the picture is how completely alienated Scorsese and writer Paul Schrader were able to make De Niro's Bickle. While De Niro no doubt deserves much of the credit for his portrayal of the character, Scorsese was the one who ensured that the picture was cut the way that it was cut and who did such a phenomenal job of surrounding Bickle with the lowest of the low, the worst that society had to offer. As such, while we may not necessarily agree with Bickle's philosophy or his methods, we can at least to a certain extent understand why he does what he does, particularly after he meets Iris even if their introduction is under rather unusual circumstances.

Schrader, on the other hand, infuses so much of himself and where he was at during a certain point in his life that Bickle is, frighteningly enough, an extension of himself as he is anything else. What makes the character and the circumstances so believable is the fact that so many of us have been there - who hasn't had their heart broken? Who hasn't been attracted and subsequently dismissed by someone who just didn't click? We don't always choose the people in life that we meet, nor do we choose whom we're attracted to. Genetics and biology play a large part in that, a much bigger part than free will does. Can we blame Travis for falling for Betsy? She is quite beautiful, she's interesting and smart and funny and charming. Is it his fault that he's completely incompatible with her? Or is it simply fate, one of life's many injustices?

That said, as deeply personal as the script is and as very much infused with the pissed off enthusiasm of a young Scorsese the film is, De Niro (fresh off of his Academy Award winning performance from The Godfather II) really does make Travis Bickle the instantly recognizable cinematic icon that he is. According to Schrader, a few of the more infamous scenes, the mirror speech for example, where at least partially improvised by De Niro during the production and while he may have gone on to garbage like Meet The Fockers he will always deserve our respect and admiration for the challenging roles that made him the respected actor that he is, Taxi Driver being up there alongside other Scorsese collaborations such as Raging Bull, Mean Streets, Goodfellas and Casino.

On top of the absorbing script, the stellar lead performance and the tense and precise direction is the cinematography courtesy of director of photography Michael Chapman. The man has done everything from Michael Jackson videos to Scorsese films to Steve Martin comedies but Taxi Driver remains such a perfectly photographed picture that it's hard to imagine that this is not the film he'll be forever remembered for (and yes, in terms of cinematography, Taxi Driver is above Raging Bull which Chapman also shot). It's been said, and rightfully so, that New York City is as important a character in the film as any of the people who show up in front of the camera and that's very true. Chapman more or less just let his camera go, capturing the reality of the New York of the era, and as such what we're left with is a very realistic feeling picture that gives us a fly-on-the-wall look at the flat out scuzziness of the area where Bickle works his beat. This, in turn, makes Bickle's inevitable downward spiral all the more understandable.

With big names like De Niro, Scorsese and Schrader dominating the credits, it would be easy to look past the supporting cast that makes Taxi Driver the masterpiece that it is. Cybill Shepherd is absolutely beautiful as Betsy, she's as charming as she should be and her character exudes a certain unattainable sexiness that someone like Travis Bickle will never be able to acquire, lending her character enough unattainable sex appeal to work. It's obvious that Travis and Betsey are from two very different worlds, and it's even more obvious that despite his best intentions, they don't have a chance at making it work despite her honest intentions at the beginning of their brief relationship. Throw the smart-ass Tom, as played perfectly by the smug Albert Brooks, into the mix and you can see that when Bickle tries to enter Betsey's world he's really just jumping into a deep end he'll never be able to swim out of. Travis' knowledge of politics and world events is blunt (see the quote below) and far too obvious for the politicos he's found himself interacting with to ever really understand. He represents the every man while they represent an administration more interested in conquest than problem solving.

Other supporting actors - like the late, great Peter Boyle, who plays Wizard, and even director Scorsese himself, who plays the disgruntled husband with the gun in the back of Bickle's cab - all deserve credit for joining together to assemble a fantastic cast of bit part players who simply add to the realistic nihilism of the film. Harvey Keitel, as Iris' pimp, Sport, stands out in his all too brief appearance while Foster turns in a fantastic and freakishly believable turn as the underage hooker who changes Bickle's stance on action versus complacency.

Last but not least, mention needs to be made of Bernard Herrmann's completely eerie score. The instrumental parts of the picture that fade in and out over various aspects of Bickle's story add an otherworldly tone to the picture. The music not only accentuates the more poignant aspects of the film as any good soundtrack should, but it also enhances the opening sequence and sets the tone right from the get-go.

More than three decades since it was made, Taxi Driver remains one of the most powerful and important pieces of filmed art to emerge out of American cinema of the 1970s. Its impact is still felt, the people who worked on it have gone on to become some of the most respected filmmakers in the land, and most importantly the film still packs one hell of a punch. New York might have been sanitized since the film was made but the story could easily be transplanted to whatever part of the world where there is strife and social unrest that you'd care to name. As such, the story remains timeless and the film still hits you like a punch in the gut. Odds are, that will never change making the picture as important and justifiably pissed off now and in the future as it ever has been.

Martin Scorsese's Taxi Driver remains one of the finest cinematic achievements of the 1970s and even now, three decades plus since it was made, the film has lost none of its power or relevancy. If anything, given the current political climate of the United States at the time of this writing, the film is just as poignant now as it has ever been. Not only is the film an allegorical piece on the issues that those returning from military service may or may not have to deal with but it also remains an interesting portrait of a socially ostracized and dangerous human being, something we've unfortunately never had any shortage of in the 'real world.'

For the three of you out there who haven't seen Taxi Driver, Robert De Niro plays Travis Bickle, a Viet Nam vet living in New York City who takes a job driving a cab at night. Travis is a loner, he's out there a bit as far as social skills are concerned and he just doesn't relate to the masses. He also sees the New York City he lives and works in as a cesspool, a sewer full of the worst that humanity has to offer. His occupation does nothing but reinforce this for him, as he is routinely forced to deal with junkies, whores and assholes - it's all part of the job.

Things look up for Travis when, seemingly by chance, he meets a beautiful woman named Betsy (Cybill Shepherd long before Moonlighting) who works for presidential hopeful, Charles Palantine (Leonard Harris). He's instantly attracted to her but their courtship soon becomes sour when they can't relate to one another. After Travis takes her to a 42nd St. porno theater on a date, she decides she wants nothing to do with him and the screws start to come loose upstairs for our hero. Shortly after, he runs into an underage prostitute named Iris (a young Jodie Foster) and they develop a strange relationship. Travis, after learning of her plight, takes it upon himself to do what he can to clean up the seedy side of the city, and American Cinema forever changed.

Mick Jagger once sang 'Go ahead, bite the Big Apple, don't mind the maggots.' Unfortunately not everyone can be as selective with their diet as Mick, and Taxi Driver is very much a movie for those people. Anyone who has ever spent a large portion of their time in the heart of an urban metropolis, be it New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, or even Toronto, has no doubt been witness to criminal activity. Whether it's drug dealing, prostitution or theft, crime and violence is to a certain extent a way of life in any major metropolitan area. De Niro, as Travis Bickle, represents that side of us that gets fed up with things. Granted, he's far from healthy - he is quite insane when it all comes down to it - but part of what gives Taxi Driver its power is that Travis Bickle lies inside so many normal, every day citizens.

Bickle is far from a model citizen. His obsession with pornography is probably quite unhealthy and it could very well be part of the reason he's unable to relate to women on what many of us would consider a normal level. He's obviously got a bit of a temper, which we see erupt by the time that the film finishes and there are moments in the film where it's made perfectly clear to us that Travis just 'doesn't get it' as far as other people are concerned. That said, despite what happens in the last twenty-minutes of the picture, is he really the bad guy? Is Travis completely at fault for what happens or is society? Has he been pushed too far? Is he a complete psychopath or, as he says, is he simply someone who stood up?

One of the most remarkable aspects of the picture is how completely alienated Scorsese and writer Paul Schrader were able to make De Niro's Bickle. While De Niro no doubt deserves much of the credit for his portrayal of the character, Scorsese was the one who ensured that the picture was cut the way that it was cut and who did such a phenomenal job of surrounding Bickle with the lowest of the low, the worst that society had to offer. As such, while we may not necessarily agree with Bickle's philosophy or his methods, we can at least to a certain extent understand why he does what he does, particularly after he meets Iris even if their introduction is under rather unusual circumstances.

Schrader, on the other hand, infuses so much of himself and where he was at during a certain point in his life that Bickle is, frighteningly enough, an extension of himself as he is anything else. What makes the character and the circumstances so believable is the fact that so many of us have been there - who hasn't had their heart broken? Who hasn't been attracted and subsequently dismissed by someone who just didn't click? We don't always choose the people in life that we meet, nor do we choose whom we're attracted to. Genetics and biology play a large part in that, a much bigger part than free will does. Can we blame Travis for falling for Betsy? She is quite beautiful, she's interesting and smart and funny and charming. Is it his fault that he's completely incompatible with her? Or is it simply fate, one of life's many injustices?

That said, as deeply personal as the script is and as very much infused with the pissed off enthusiasm of a young Scorsese the film is, De Niro (fresh off of his Academy Award winning performance from The Godfather II) really does make Travis Bickle the instantly recognizable cinematic icon that he is. According to Schrader, a few of the more infamous scenes, the mirror speech for example, where at least partially improvised by De Niro during the production and while he may have gone on to garbage like Meet The Fockers he will always deserve our respect and admiration for the challenging roles that made him the respected actor that he is, Taxi Driver being up there alongside other Scorsese collaborations such as Raging Bull, Mean Streets, Goodfellas and Casino.

On top of the absorbing script, the stellar lead performance and the tense and precise direction is the cinematography courtesy of director of photography Michael Chapman. The man has done everything from Michael Jackson videos to Scorsese films to Steve Martin comedies but Taxi Driver remains such a perfectly photographed picture that it's hard to imagine that this is not the film he'll be forever remembered for (and yes, in terms of cinematography, Taxi Driver is above Raging Bull which Chapman also shot). It's been said, and rightfully so, that New York City is as important a character in the film as any of the people who show up in front of the camera and that's very true. Chapman more or less just let his camera go, capturing the reality of the New York of the era, and as such what we're left with is a very realistic feeling picture that gives us a fly-on-the-wall look at the flat out scuzziness of the area where Bickle works his beat. This, in turn, makes Bickle's inevitable downward spiral all the more understandable.

With big names like De Niro, Scorsese and Schrader dominating the credits, it would be easy to look past the supporting cast that makes Taxi Driver the masterpiece that it is. Cybill Shepherd is absolutely beautiful as Betsy, she's as charming as she should be and her character exudes a certain unattainable sexiness that someone like Travis Bickle will never be able to acquire, lending her character enough unattainable sex appeal to work. It's obvious that Travis and Betsey are from two very different worlds, and it's even more obvious that despite his best intentions, they don't have a chance at making it work despite her honest intentions at the beginning of their brief relationship. Throw the smart-ass Tom, as played perfectly by the smug Albert Brooks, into the mix and you can see that when Bickle tries to enter Betsey's world he's really just jumping into a deep end he'll never be able to swim out of. Travis' knowledge of politics and world events is blunt (see the quote below) and far too obvious for the politicos he's found himself interacting with to ever really understand. He represents the every man while they represent an administration more interested in conquest than problem solving.

Other supporting actors - like the late, great Peter Boyle, who plays Wizard, and even director Scorsese himself, who plays the disgruntled husband with the gun in the back of Bickle's cab - all deserve credit for joining together to assemble a fantastic cast of bit part players who simply add to the realistic nihilism of the film. Harvey Keitel, as Iris' pimp, Sport, stands out in his all too brief appearance while Foster turns in a fantastic and freakishly believable turn as the underage hooker who changes Bickle's stance on action versus complacency.

Last but not least, mention needs to be made of Bernard Herrmann's completely eerie score. The instrumental parts of the picture that fade in and out over various aspects of Bickle's story add an otherworldly tone to the picture. The music not only accentuates the more poignant aspects of the film as any good soundtrack should, but it also enhances the opening sequence and sets the tone right from the get-go.

More than three decades since it was made, Taxi Driver remains one of the most powerful and important pieces of filmed art to emerge out of American cinema of the 1970s. Its impact is still felt, the people who worked on it have gone on to become some of the most respected filmmakers in the land, and most importantly the film still packs one hell of a punch. New York might have been sanitized since the film was made but the story could easily be transplanted to whatever part of the world where there is strife and social unrest that you'd care to name. As such, the story remains timeless and the film still hits you like a punch in the gut. Odds are, that will never change making the picture as important and justifiably pissed off now and in the future as it ever has been.

With the popularity of Bruce Lee and films like Five Fingers of Death (a.k.a. King Boxer) in the early 1970s, there was a flood of chop sockey cinema that was dumped in inner-city and Chinatown movies theaters all the way into the 80s. Produced by the legendary Shaw Brothers studio, The 36th Chamber of Shaolin was one of these countless films. It had been a huge hit in Hong Kong, before it was edited, dubbed and released in the United States under the title Master Killer. At the same time films like Master Killer were being played in double and triple and quadruple features at rundown theaters and drive-ins, local television stations were still airing feature films during the day on Saturdays. Many stations, including Channel 5 in New York, and Channel 12 in Portland, where I moved when I was in junior high, began showing kung fu films, including Master Killer.

Like so many others who had become fascinated with kung fu films in the 1970s, I watched Master Killer simply because it appeared, at least as first glance, to be more of the silly, asskicking entertainment that made up many of my Saturday afternoons. But the reality is that the film was very different from all the others I had seen, and was really the only one to make any sort of lasting impression. Years later, when I went back and started rewatching martial arts films, this was the film I wanted to see again. When I finally saw it as The 36th Chamber of Shaolin, probably a decade or more later, it was totally familiar, while at the same time a completely new experience.

The plot of 36th Chamber comes from the standard template of Hong Kong's cinema of vengeance. Gordon Liu stars as San Te (although his name at the beginning is Liu Yu-te), an unassuming student who witnesses the brutality of the Manchus as nefarious General Tien (Lo Lieh) kills a rival. This prompts Liu to become involved in the rebellion to overthrow, but the cost of his involvement is the massacre of his family. With nowhere else to go, Liu flees to the Shaolin Temple, hoping that the monks there will teach him the kung fu skills he needs to avenge his family. At the temple Liu is renamed San Te by the monks, and he eventually begins the difficult training that involves mastering all 35 chambers used to teach the Shaolin kung fu.

A standard element in many martial arts films was the obligatory "training" sequence where a student of questionable skills eventually learns to become a master. The 36th Chamber of Shaolin took this standard convention, and turned it into the foundation of the film's second act. Where a training sequence may have lasted somewhere around 10 minutes in another film, 36th Chamber uses the concept and turns it into a way of charting the growth of San Te's character. In scene after scene of some of the most memorable moments to grace Hong Kong cinema, San Te masters one chamber after another, quickly moving toward his goal of becoming a fighter who can take revenge for his family. But as he masters each skill involved with the individual chambers, San Te begins to grow as a person, profoundly influenced by the Buddhist teachings of the Shaolin monks. When he finally has moved through all the chambers, and passed his final test, San Te is given the opportunity to oversee the instruction at any of the 35 chambers. Instead, he asks to create a 36th chamber, one that can be used to teach kung fu outside the temple to everyday people, so that they may protect themselves from the tyrants who rule the land.

What is profound about The 36th Chamber of Shaolin is that while it follows many of the conventions established in other martial arts films, it moves beyond those standard trappings. In countless other movies San Te would have simply learned to fight and gotten his revenge. But director Liu Chia-Liang (a.k.a. Lau Kar-Leung) takes the genre to another level by developing San Te's consciousness along with his fighting skills. This is evidenced by the protagonist's journey from wanting to merely exact vengeance for the death of his family to his desire to teach others, so that they may protect themselves and fight against oppression.

The most popular heroes of martial arts films were always the flawed and the oppressed that grew into greatness through much trial and tribulation, despite their weakness. But at the same time, it was always difficult to find much depth or dimension within a majority of the martial arts heroes of Hong Kong films, especially as they played in the U.S., heavily edited and poorly dubbed. In making the journey to America, many films lost whatever heart and soul they may have had--if they had any in the first place. But no editing or poor dubbing was able to remove the heart and soul from 36th Chamber of Shaolin, and even as Master Killer, it emerged as a classic with the genre.

The Sergio Leone Anthology
MGM (distributed by Fox)
Color / 2:35 anamorphic widescreen
Street Date June 5, 2007 / 89.98; available separately at 26.98
Original Music Ennio Morricone
Directed by Sergio Leone

MGM Home Entertainment has enjoyed quite a run with the Sergio Leone United Artists westerns, which have always been near the top of their sales charts on VHS, Laserdisc and now DVD. Three of the four titles were released on DVD in 1999 in less-than-adequate encodings; The Good, The Bad and The Ugly was the subject of a 2004 Special Extended Edition. Later that same year MGM Home Entertainment commissioned double-disc special editions for the remaining three titles, and made plans to coordinate their release with a prestigious Sergio Leone exhibition at the Gene Autry Museum in Griffith Park. Finished by Christmas, the three new shows were scheduled for release in the summer of 2005. Then MGM was sold into the hands of a consortium and its home video distribution outsourced to Sony; all MGM releases were disrupted. A year later, MGM pulled its video distribution from Sony and relocated to 20th-Century Fox. Now, 2½ years after completion, the four-title Sergio Leone Anthology has finally arrived.

Region 2 viewers have already seen these special editions in PAL releases from 2005. The extras are mostly the same, but the audio options vary on some of the titles. More importantly, the R2 discs all run at the faster PAL speed of 25fps, which changes the tempo of the music tracks, makes the action look too clipped and pitches un-corrected voices just high enough to make grown men sound like chipmunks. As far as this reviewer is concerned, this set of R1 discs is the first really watchable release.

Beyond a synopsis and a few remarks, I'll limit my discussion of the first two "Dollars" titles to the new editions and refer readers unfamiliar with the films to the older review. As The Good, The Bad and the Ugly is unchanged from its Extended Edition release, it will be discussed even less. The newcomer to R1 DVD Duck You Sucker will receive more attention.

Fistful of Dollars
1964 / 100 min. / Per un pugno di dollari / available separately at 26.98
Starring Clint Eastwood, Marianne Koch, Gian Maria Volontè, Wolfgang Lukschy, Seighardt Rupp, Joe Egger, Aldo Sambrell, Mario Brega
Cinematography Massimo Dallamano
Art Direction Carlo Simi
Film Editor Roberto Cinquini, Alfonso Santacana
Written by A. Bonzzoni, Jaime Comas Gil, Victor Andrés Catena, Sergio Leone
Produced by Arrigo Colombo, Giorgio Papi

Synopsis: (Note: The plot, characters and even shots were plagiarized from Akira Kurosawa's Yojimbo.) Mysterious bounty hunter Joe (Clint Eastwood) finds a border town perfectly suited to his wicked brand of free enterprise. The Baxters and the Rojos are competing families of gun runners and smugglers, eager to wipe each other out. Joe hires himself to each clan in turn, collecting from both sides while gunning down their hired guns with carefree abandon. Joe frees concubine Marisol (Marianne Koch) to flee with her husband and child, but not before top kick Ramón Rojo (Gian Maria Volontè) discovers his subterfuge. Beaten to a pulp, Joe must face down the last half-dozen Rojo gunmen.

Fistful of Dollars (the on-screen title has no "A", despite MGM's ad copy) is an inexpensive movie. If this transfer looks less attractive than the others its partly because it wasn't as carefully photographed, and because of a lack of access to prime transfer elements. The transfer doesn't look bad overall, although one can still perceive a 'pulsing' quality in some scenes, especially shots in Joe's first gundown, the "my mule is upset" scene. Otherwise the enhanced transfer cleans up a great many flaws.

The first three films were originally monaural, although MGM has remixed them all in processed faux-stereo. One of the main complaints about the extended version of GBU is that the original mix had been augmented (many fans said defaced) with extra sound effects, and both dialogue and music were altered. Early suspicions about this new release centered on whether MGM would respect the integrity of the original films by retaining the original mono tracks. Happily, mono tracks are provided for the three new restorations. Fistful of Dollars has a Spanish mono as well.

Informed fans mention scenes present in some foreign versions but never seen in UA's export copy, including a scene of the Baxters sitting at the Rojo's dinner table. All of these films were customized for release in different countries. Some scenes were cut after initial engagements, or were perhaps set aside yet reinstated when local censors cut other scenes. When it's difficult to simply get a useable transfer element from a foreign producer, looking for variant versions is not always possible.

The extras feature actor Clint Eastwood and English Leone authority Sir Christopher Frayling. Frayling's entertaining commentaries and interview featurette (A New Kind of Hero) constitute a compressed history of everything related to the Leone cycle -- American and Italian film history, the story of the Italian film industry and detailed insights into practically every face we see on the screen. In the featurette A Few Weeks in Spain Eastwood tells the story of a serious actor who made good, due in no small part to his professional pride in his work. While other American actors abroad just read the lines, rode the horses and headed back to the nightclubs, Eastwood rewrote his own dialogue, kept his own script notes and then made sure it was recorded correctly in dubbing sessions. "The Man with No Name" thus comes off as the coolest gunslinger in history.

The featurette Tre Voci gathers the memories of producer Alberto Grimaldi, writer Sergio Donati and actor/dubbing director Mickey Knox. Also of interest is Donald Bruce's Location Comparisons that match film scenes with new photography of the same locations today. Some sets are completely gone but others remain intact.

Curious Leone fans will most want to see the Network Prologue that was added to Fistful of Dollars for its first prime-time TV showing in 1977. Thought long lost, the prologue was preserved by fan Howard Fridkin, who recorded it on one of the very first Betamax VCRs. On a separate extra, Not Ready for Prime Time, director Monte Hellman remembers directing the amusingly inept prologue, with actor Harry Dean Stanton and an unconvincing stand-in for Clint Eastwood.

For a Few Dollars More
1965 / 132 min. / Per qualche dollaro in più / available separately at 26.98
Starring Clint Eastwood, Lee Van Cleef, Gian Maria Volontè, Maria Krup, Luigi Pistilli, Klaus Kinski, Joseph Egger, Aldo Sanbrell
Cinematography Massimo Dallamano
Film Editor Adriana Novelli, Giorgio Serralonga, Eugenio Alabiso
Written by Luciano Vincenzoni, Fulvio Morsella, Sergio Leone
Produced by Alberto Grimaldi

Synopsis: Highly successful bounty hunter Manco (Clint Eastwood) crosses paths, and then joins forces with the aristocratic Colonel Mortimer (Lee Van Cleef). Both are after the notorious bandit El Indio (Gian Maria Volontè) and his pack of cutthroats, but they miscalculate when El Indio pulls off a spectacular daylight robbery of a heavily guarded bank. Mortimer and Manco pretend to join El Indio's gang, a ruse that doesn't last long.

More lavishly produced than the first film, For a Few Dollars More is perhaps the best-looking of the four titles on DVD, with brilliant colors and a clean image that belies its half-frame Techniscope origins. The quality can be traced to a complete overhaul of the movie by the restoration company Triage. Paul Rutan went back to the original Techniscope negative, enlarging and squeezing the image through optics much better than those used in 1965. In addition to a new Dolby 5.1 remix, this disc has original mono tracks in English, Spanish and French. MGM's 1999 release was flat letterboxed, with much of its audio track painfully out of sync, making the new disc a vast improvement.

Christopher Frayling and Clint Eastwood repeat their contributions in a reminiscence-filled featurette from the actor (Back for More) and a commentary and full featurette (A New Standard) from the educator/author. The Tre Voci trio also contribute more stories, especially about the hiring of star Lee Van Cleef. A second set of Location Comparisons is on board as well.

MGM's versions of For a Few Dollars More have taken criticism for not being 'complete,' because foreign tapes and TV presentations have extensions on a couple of scenes. MGM has a battered copy of a longer cut in which Manco and Mortimer are beaten by El Indio's thugs, but decided not to include it as it would not match the rest of the film in quality. Whether by accident or intention, the extended beating scene is no longer part of producer Alberto Grimaldi's original negative. On this new disc it can be seen in a Comparison featurette that shows a couple of other differences in the MGM copy, but is by no means comprehensive. This new feature restoration does retain the brief scene extension identifying Eastwood's character with the name 'Manco.' It was presumably snipped by UA in 1967 to maintain the 'Man with No Name' ad concept.

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly
1966 / , 161 min. / Il buono, il brutto, il cattivo / available separately at 26.98
Starring Clint Eastwood, Eli Wallach, Lee Van Cleef, Aldo Giuffre, Mario Brega, Luigi Pistilli
Cinematography Tonino Delli Colli
Production Design Carlo Simi
Film Editor Eugenio Alabiso, Nino Baragli
Written by Agenore Incrocci, Furio Scarpelli, Luciano Vincenzoni, Sergio Leone
Produced by Alberto Grimaldi

As stated above, The Good, The Bad and The Ugly is the same two-disc extended edition that can be read about in Savant's original review. For a splashy 2003 theatrical re-release the film was restored to most of its 1966 first-run length, re-inserting a number of Italian language scenes included only as an extra on the first 1999 disc. MGM and Alberto Grimaldi also restored a 'grotto' scene that never saw general release, but was finished and shown at the film's 1966 Rome premiere. The grotto scene became controversial mostly through the disapproval of the Leone family, as interpreted by various highly placed fans. MGM reinstated the scenes with the approval of the film's producer.

Less clear-cut is MGM's audio remix of GBU, which for the new theatrical release was expanded to fill the Dolby soundscape. Clint Eastwood and Eli Wallach returned to the recording studio to voice the new segments that had never before been dubbed into English. The loudest web objections are pointed at MGM's augmentation and replacement of key sound effects -- gunshots, cannon blasts -- to 'fill out' the new stereo track. Dissenting fans still have a reason to complain, as this new release still lacks an original (or mostly original) mono option in English. (It does have an Italian original mono track).

Sir Christopher Frayling was unavailable back when the extras for The Good, The Bad and The Ugly were created, and Richard Schickel provided a commentary instead. In 2004 Frayling recorded a full commentary for GBU with the idea that it could be added as an extra on a reissue. MGM has instead reissued the GBU discs unchanged.

Duck You Sucker
1971 / 157 154, 138, 120 min. / Giù la testa, A Fistful of Dynamite, I; était une fois ... la révolution / available separately at 26.98
Starring James Coburn, Rod Steiger, Maria Monti, Rik Battaglia, Romolo Valli, Antoine St-John, Vivienne Chandler, David Warbeck
Cinematography Giuseppe Ruzzolini
Art Direction Andrea Crisanti
Film Editor Nino Baragli
Written by Sergio Leone, Sergio Donati, Luciano Vincenzoni
Produced by Fulvio Morsella

Synopsis: Mexican peasant Juan Miranda (Rod Steiger) and his rag-tag group of boys rob and rape the decadent rich. When he meets expatriate Irish revolutionary and explosives expert John Mallory (James Coburn), Juan suggests a partnership to rob a fancy bank at Mesa Verde. Juan discovers only in mid-robbery that the bank is now being used as a political prison, and becomes an involuntary revolutionary overnight. But after the successful annihilation of an army commanded by mercenary officer Gunther Ruiz (Antoine St. John), the government forces capture and torture rebel leader Dr. Villega (Romolo Valli). The information he discloses leads to the slaughter of the rebel leadership and all of Juan's family. Only John knows that Villega is an informer, a fact he keeps to himself ... for he is haunted by guilty memories of his revolutionary experience in Ireland.

Duck You Sucker has been the least appreciated of Leone's films until fairly recently; this is its first appearance on DVD. Equally as slow as Once Upon a Time in The West, it represents a leap forward for the director. Leone not only tackles believable human relationships for the first time, he also has serious political ideas to communicate. It's interesting that he did not intend to direct the film or think it was a 'personal' effort, when his next signed picture thirteen years later Once Upon a Time in America continues in the same socio-political vein.

In America Duck You Sucker was chopped into bits for several reasons. Leone's previous Paramount release had been a box office failure and United Artists had no interest in another three-hour artistic western. They removed as much 'revolutionary' content as possible, trimmed some profanities here and there and then re-cut the show to speed up the slow scenes. The 160-minute picture was officially 138 for American release, but I know that in Los Angeles some prints were slashed to 120 minutes for second-runs.

The picture billboards Leone's graces and his faults. The enormous production is truly grandiose in the battle scenes, including an amazing night-for-night final battle. Thousands of costumed extras jam railroad stations. Throwaway glimpses through the windows of a railroad car reveal moving trains, mounted soldiers and hundreds of extras milling about. An awesome bridge detonation filmed in ultra slow motion sends boulder-sized rocks flying, as if a meteor had collided with the earth.

On the downside, Leone still undervalues the need for a coherent narrative. He ellipses huge sections of story while retaining extended 'atmosphere' scenes to showcase Ennio Morricone's sublime music score. As in Once Upon a Time in The West, the tale's central turning point is short-changed, giving us a Grindhouse impression of a reel gone missing. Both films play like four-hour two-parters that have been compromised. It's too bad that Leone couldn't create in the "episodic epic" form afforded Fritz Lang at Ufa, or Peter Jackson at New Line.

MGM's restored Duck You Sucker is based on Claver Salizzato's 1995 restoration of the Italian premiere version, which originally had a stereophonic track. The handsome transfer includes all known 'missing sections' of the film. A later French release excised the film's controversial final flashback entirely. It's the one scene that distinguishes this version from the 1997 MGM/Image Laserdisc that caused a great deal of excitement by upping the film's running time from 138 to 154 minutes. Salizzato's original stereo tracks could not be used because they had been mixed for the Italian language only. The 5.1 stereo heard here is another electronic reprocessing job; alternate tracks are provided in English, Spanish and French Mono. I've heard some alarms on the web that music cues in the film have been altered, but John Kirk says that he had no issues with the music and changed nothing. The web reports say that the music in the crucial 'entering the pub' flashback is different. I had no VHS source to check, but I did pull out both the 1990 and 1997 Image Laserdiscs to compare them with the new version. The music for that scene is the same on all of them. The confusion may be that the original soundtracks begin the music cue a bar or two earlier, with the series of heavier low notes.

This release also restores the film's proper title. The reissue compromise A Fistful of Dynamite has confused viewers for 35 years.

Sir Christopher Frayling really goes to town on his commentary and featurette (The Myth of Revolution), examining the film's relationship to the 1968 student rebellions and Leone's take on the then-popular revolutionary movement in European films. The film makes a strong statement against colonial oppression and Fascism but refuses to side with the Leftist, 'committed' Italian filmmakers. Leone drops his cynical detachment and instead places humanitarian sentiments ahead of Revolution, honoring family and faith as higher values. Duck You Sucker is his most mature film.

Sergio Donati speaks about his experience on the film, which seems to have been clouded by Leone's covert use of multiple writers and his terrible treatment of Eli Wallach, who was cast as Juan Miranda but kept waiting even after UA had replaced him with Rod Steiger. Restoration Italian Style features former MGM special projects director John Kirk talking about his work to reassemble the long version, and Donald Bruce's Location Comparison travels from Spain to Ireland in search of filming sites. Note that the church dynamited by John Mallory is the same building used as a hideout by El Indio in For a Few Dollars More.

The Autry Exhibit was meant as a tie-in for the world-class Leone museum show curated by Christopher Frayling and Estela Chung. The featurette saw some use on the Autry website but its 'coming soon' message is a little late, as the exhibit closed in late 2005. We do get a good look at some nice posters and memorabilia.

Sorting Out the Versions uses graphics, clips from old transfers and unpublished stills to illustrate various excised scenes. Savant related most of this information in a 1998 Savant article that's been updated several times over the years. Versions then proceeds to argue for a new interpretation of Duck You Sucker based on questions raised by the full-length cut: Who is the real 'Sean'? Who betrayed who back in Ireland? *

The Sergio Leone Anthology comes in an attractive but somewhat unwieldy package. A foldout holds eight DVDs in stacks of two, which means that to find a desired disc one needs a couple of feet of clean counter space to unfurl the whole thing. A booklet contains liner notes that don't always agree with information in Christopher Frayling's extras. The disc menu design is okay, but both MGM and Fox insist on loading up the menus and featurettes with redundant logos, which become trying when watching several extras at any one time. Each title comes with a selection of trailers and radio spots.

In a few weeks Warner Home Video will release the American version of The Colossus of Rhodes, and all of director Sergio Leone's signed feature films will be available on DVD.

On a scale of Excellent, Good, Fair, and Poor, The Sergio Leone Anthology rates:
Movies: Excellent
Video: Excellent, Fistful of Dollars: Very Good
Sound: Excellent, with reservations (see above) on The Good, The Bad and The Ugly
Packaging: Eight discs in card and plastic holder in card sleeve.
Reviewed: June 2, 2007

* Footnote: Savant disclaimer: I worked on the extras for all four special editions, which makes this review more informed than some but obviously not as objective. In the interest of full disclosure, and for those not familiar with my background, I worked at MGM Home Video in the 1990s and initiated studio interest in amending The Good, The Bad and The Ugly with its Italian-only scenes. I also interceded to make sure that the 30-second version of the final flashback on Duck You Sucker was not left off of the 1997 Laser release. The disc extras relied heavily on the generous help of collectors with much more knowledge of Sergio Leone, notably Bill Shaffer, Lee Broughton, Jim Wynorski, Tom Betts, Donald Bruce, Ulrich Angersbach, Ulrich P. Bruckner and Howard Fridkin. I am grateful for John Kirk's support in convincing MGM to officially change the disliked title Fistful of Dynamite back to Duck You Sucker, which once again restores the film's final 'joke'. And Gary Teetzel steered our attention to the Autry Museum's planned Leone exhibit, which helped raise awareness at MGM that these films are more than 'spaghetti westerns.'

WARNING: MILD SPOILERS AHEAD!

Our first introduction is to young Princess Moanna, who flees her underworld kingdom for a life above ground. Her memory is erased by the sunlight, so the Princess' life is carried out with no knowledge of her true identity; after her death, it's hinted that Moanna will return to her kingdom in another life. Immediately following this prologue, we're taken to the central atmosphere of Pan's Labyrinth: Spain circa 1944, after the last gasps of a civil war. We're now introduced to Ofelia, a young girl with a penchant for fairy tales. After the death of her father, Ofelia and her pregnant mother travel to the home of Captain Vidal, their new stepfather and husband.

Along the way, Ofelia encounters an insect-like creature that follows them to their new home. The creature appears to only make itself known to the young girl, who believes she's encountered a fairy straight from her storybooks. He leads her to a labyrinth in the immediate vicinity of the Captain's land, where she encounters a faun who believes that young Ofelia is the reincarnation of Princess Moanna. She's given three quests to prove herself, each one involving fantastic (and, in some cases, horrifying) creatures or difficult moral challenges. She often escapes to this dream-like world, always willingly.

The film's balance, of course, is maintained by the striking real-world backdrop of civil war and the violence in its wake. Captain Vidal is a fascist who hoards food and medical supplies to flush out local Republican rebels, lording over the landscape as the film's most easily-identified villain. His penchant for cold-blooded judgment and torture are sharply revealed in several stages, from the brutal killing of innocent farmers to the physical demolition of an imprisoned rebel. Vidal is the true monster of Pan's Labyrinth, mirroring The Big Bad Wolf and a plethora of beasts from classic fairy tales. He rules over the house with an iron fist, carefully watching the moves of Ofelia, her mother and the hired help. It's no surprise, then, that the young girl often feels more comfortable in a world of fantasy.

END OF SPOILERS

These two worlds are blended seamlessly, both in a technical sense and a spiritual one. Del Toro frequently employs careful vertical wipes---made to resemble the turning of pages, according to the director's commentary---to coax us into making subtle connections between Vidal's homestead and the mystical labyrinth. His deliberate use of color is another telling giveaway, contrasting the increasingly cold reality of Ofelia's life with the surreal warmth of her fantasy world. The film's solid production design also anchors Pan's Labyrinth nicely, from detailed and carefully-framed sets to amazing costume design and practical effects. It's literally a feast for the eyes...but as mentioned before, it's got plenty of substance to back up the style.

That's all the small talk you'll really need, as Pan's Labyrinth is truly a film that speaks for itself. Those who've already seen Del Toro's earlier companion piece, The Devil's Backbone, will notice a more polished and refined approach taken by the Mexican director, while those new to his work are in for a pleasant surprise. It's been a while since a film really grabbed me the way Pan's Labyrinth did the first time through, and it doesn't look as if repeated viewings will weaken its effect. In all respects, those who appreciate detailed, well-rendered fantasy films will find plenty to enjoy.

Final Thoughts
Lush and immersive, Pan's Labyrinth is truly a film to get lost in. Skillfully blending equal parts fantasy and horror, the cold and warm corners of our young protagonist's world are well-rendered and striking. It's almost disarming in its simplicity, yet subtle layers lurk underneath for those who enjoy digging. In all respects, this is a truly amazing work of art and worthy of its multiple Oscar wins and nominations...

It seems rather strange that a film nearly six hours long could be this good. Yet, the story of Marco Giordana's ambitious La Meglio Gioventu a.k.a The Best of Youth (2003) is so rich it feels as if another six hours could have been easily added up. A project of paramount proportions La Meglio Gioventu follows two brothers, Nicola Carati (Luigi Lo Cascio) and Matteo Carati (Alessio Boni), through the turbulent history of Italy from the early 1960s all the way to 2000.

Formally divided into two parts La Meglio Gioventu touches upon a number of crucial for the history of Italy events: the disastrous flooding in Florence, the peak of the Red Brigades, the assassination of Judge Giovanni Falcone, the restructuring of the Italian automotive giant FIAT, and the student riots from the late 1970s. Indeed, this film has a very complicated structure which makes it almost impossible to describe in detail without disrupting the rhythm of what appears to be a classic Italian tale of love and friendship.

The foundation of La Meglio Gioventu is built around the struggle of the Carati brothers to find their way in life. Nicola, the more ambitious and dedicated one, becomes a doctor while undergoing a number of life-changing events leading him to an interesting relationship with a woman involved with the notorious Red Brigades. Matteo, a man with an uncanny passion for discipline, becomes a police officer only so he could discover that his heart is unable to tolerate the social ordinance of the Italian state.

Originally intended for Italian television La Meglio Gioventu offers much more than an engaging storytelling. It offers a look at the very core of the Italian society and a number of events that shaped its socio-political structure. Interestingly enough the film never really evolves into a boring collage of political affairs wrapped around with an overly-sentimental script. On the contrary, La Meglio Gioventu remains a profoundly intimate experience with an unusually rich storyline.

I see plenty of influences in Marco Giordana's film which lead back to some classic and some more recent Italian productions. The director's colorful camera work complimented by a truly timeless soundtrack implies familiarity with Bernardo Bertolucci's films about social unrest. Both Partner (1968) and his more recent The Dreamers (2003) are easily comparable to La Meglio Gioventu. I also detect in La Meglio Gioventu the suffocating sense of political paranoia which Marco Bellocchio was able to recreate beautifully in his films (the recent Buongiorno Notte (2003) about the kidnapping of Italian President Aldo Moro is a perfect example). Last but not least drawing parallels between Giuseppe Tornatore's elegant Cinema Paradiso (1989) and La Melgio Gioventu is almost inevitable; the two films most certainly offer the magic that classic pictures are made of.

It took some time for American distributors to acquire La Meglio Gioventu. In fact, in 2005 I nearly lost any hope that a local company will step up and distribute this film nationally. The delicate nature of La Meglio Gioventu, and precisely the fact that the film runs at almost 370 minutes, pretty much guaranteed the financially-dreadful stamp "art-house feature". Allow me to disagree with any such insulting evaluations: not only is La Meglio Gioventu one of the best family dramas you are likely to see it is quite possibly one of the most beautiful European films to be distributed in North America in a long, very long time.

Awards/ Recognition: La Meglio Gioventu is the winner of the Un Certain Regard Award (Marco Giordana) at the Cannes Film Festival (2003); winner of the David Di Donatello Awards for Best Director (Marco Giordana), Best Editing (Roberto Missiroli), Best Film, Best Producer (Angelo Barbagallo), Best Screenplay (Sandro Petraglia/ Stefano Rulli), Best Sound (Fulgenzio Ceccon); the Audience Award for Best Film at the Rotterdam International Film Festival (2004); and the granted by the Seattle International Film Festival Golden Needle Award for Best Director (2004) among many others...

Final Thoughts: Lyrical, beautiful to watch, intelligent, without a doubt a film conveying the timeless allure of Italian cinema La Meglio Gioventu is not to be missed...HIGHLY RECOMMENDED!!

This is a juicy concept with plenty of opportunity for cat-and-mouse thrills. The first Infernal Affairs from 2002 certainly delivers on that promise, but also goes above and beyond in its attention to fantastically rich psychological depth and the personal relationships of the characters. Each man is conflicted in his duties, struggling to understand and assert his own identity in light of what he must do for his job. Each must face a distinct moral dilemma and decide who he really wants to be. Do the ends truly justify the means? Is redemption possible for a person who has done so many terrible things to achieve a goal he isn't even sure he believes in anymore?

Infernal Affairs is a tightly written and directed movie that packs a lot of substance into its 100-minute length. It has hardly a single wasted or extraneous moment. It has excitement and suspense, rich character development, terrific acting from a large cast, and manages to guide the audience through a labyrinthine and complex plot while developing strong attachments to even minor characters. Its tragic, ironic climax has deep emotional resonance, though unfortunately a last-minute tacked-on ending is something of a cop-out and the movie would have closed stronger if the credits came up a couple of minutes earlier. Despite this minor flaw, however, it is one of the best movies to ever come out of the Hong Kong film industry. The picture was a blockbuster hit throughout Asia, won countless local awards, and spawned two back-to-back sequels the following year of 2003.

If it seems like the first movie should be a self-contained entity with no room for a sequel, Infernal Affairs II proves just how ambitiously filmmakers Andrew Lau (not related to the actor) and Alan Mak really set their sights. Taking a cue from The Godfather Part II, the directors retraced their characters' steps by staging the second movie as a prequel depicting the recruitment and early careers of the teenage Yan and Ming. Almost the entire original cast returns, with the exception of Leung and Lau, whose characters are played by the same younger actors used in the first picture's flashback scenes.

Far from the redundant cash-in it might have been, Infernal Affairs II tells an engrossing story that adds further depth to the events of the first movie by showing us the scope of the backstory leading up to them. With this entry, Infernal Affairs becomes more than just a crime drama; it's a true epic of honor, loyalty, morality, and family. Given a chance to shine here are the father-figures from the first film of triad boss Sam (Eric Tsang) and Inspector Wong (Anthony Wong), whose complicated relationship was hinted at but not fully revealed the first time around. The prequel is longer and a bit messier than the original, with a lot of new characters and a jumpy structure that can be confusing on first viewing. The two teenage leads also look a lot alike, which can be disorienting. On the other hand, it has several genuinely powerful, operatic story arcs and a number of shocking twists. It's a worthy follow-up that both builds off and adds to its predecessor, and was another big critical and commercial success.

Tony Leung and Andy Lau return in Infernal Affairs III. The most complexly structured of the three movies, the final entry serves as both a direct sequel to the first movie, its primary storyline picking up a few months after the original's climax, and a between-quel with a number of flashbacks that take place after the events depicted in part II but before those of part I. Having successfully kept his identity and motives a secret, Ming finds his life falling apart as he deals with the fallout of his previous actions. His wife has left him and the police department has moved him to a desk job as they sort out the investigation of his interaction with Yan. Eventually reassigned to Internal Affairs, Ming's first job is to dig out the other triad moles in the police force. Both out of his desire to do the right thing and a desperate need to cover his own ass, Ming hunts these men down and whacks them one by one until facing off against Inspector Yeung (Leon Lai from Heroic Duo), a man he is convinced was Sam's most important mole and will be the best target to pin his own crimes on.

For whatever reason, big movie trilogies rarely ever conclude on their strongest note. So it is with Infernal Affairs III, which while still a pretty good movie overall is unfortunately the least successful of the series. Most of the blame is due to the film's overly complicated structure, which jumps around too much for the viewer to ever get a firm handle on what's going on or to develop attachments to any one storyline. Although flashbacks allow most of the original cast to return in some capacity, the compelling characters of Sam and Wong are reduced to mere cameos and even Yan hardly has much to do here. Tony Leung doesn't seem particularly involved in the role, as if he'd lost interest, and worse his clean-shaven appearance (he must have shaved for another movie and not had time to grow out his straggly facial hair) makes him look older and creates a number of continuity errors with the events of the first movie. The film's plot has too many twists for its own good. The movie seems to have three or four different endings before finally drawing to a close, and the scene that does finally end the series was not the most effective choice.

What does work in Infernal Affairs III, however, is the continued evolution and breakdown of Ming's character, a man so obsessed with finding personal redemption that he loses sight of the true effects of his actions. The movie also has some clever reworking of the events from part I as we see the version of the story as Ming tells it. Part III even goes out of the way to fill in some of the unexplained gaps in the first movie, such as why Yan was wearing a cast early in the picture, why he was working in a stereo shop for one scene, and why he visits a psychiatrist. Perhaps not all of these details were necessary to explain, but by the time the trilogy is over it has a satisfying cohesion from one part to the next, and feels as though the entire story were elaborately mapped out in advance, unlike many other "trilogies" where one hit film is followed by two needless cash-in sequels.

The Infernal Affairs Trilogy may have some ups and downs, but the sum total of its achievement is a staggering artistic accomplishment. It's a bold and daring merger of police thriller, epic crime saga, and complex psychological drama that deserves to stand with such classics as the Godfather films, Goodfellas, or Michael Mann's Heat...

The plot is simple and we're thrown into it from the very begining - Lola (Franka Portente) recieves a call from her boyfriend Manni that he lost a bag with 100,000 marks that he was supposed to deliver. If he doesn't come up with the money in 20 minutes, he's dead. The movie screams at you; throws almost every trick in the book at you, even shows sequences as cartoons.

And so Lola begins her run - faster and faster, with an incredibly surreal and wonderful style cutting the pieces together. When Lola bumps into someone, we see (via snapshots) what happened to that person after she bumped into them. Potente makes a fantastic lead actress - there is an urgency in every word, every emotion, that makes us want her to win in the end. The story has alternate versions of what could happen as it spins around on itself, thrusting forward yet again. "Run Lola Run" is unlike anything I've ever seen - it's a rush of energy unlike anything in film in the past couple of years, and I think it's really one of the best films of 1999.

Ichi assumes the roles of detective, tactician and savior as he becomes involved with three seperate plots that all come crashing together in the fight-filled conclusion. Early on, Ichi becomes acquainted with a traveling swordsman named Jumonji Tadasu (Mikio Narita) who possesses a passion for the game of chess. As the two travel together and seemingly get along, it quickly becomes clear that their friendly chess games are actually a metaphor of their attempts to anticipate each other's next move which is destined to result in a deadly exchange of sword strokes. While this is going on, a small girl named Miki is accidentally wounded by a swordsman's blade during a scuffle with Ichi and she contracts tetanus. Ichi attempts to raise the five ryu necessary to buy medicine by hustling amateur gamblers, but for the first time he misjudges the outcome of the dice roll and loses everything. He ends up earning the money squarely at a local fair by catching 100-mon coins (with a hole in their center) on his sword. A race to bring back the medicine in time is interrupted by a gang of thugs laying in ambush.

To help the girl recover, Ichi travels with Miki and her guardian, Otane (Kaneko Iwasaki) to a hot springs bathhouse. After settling in, Ichi struggles to keep Otane, who has fallen in love with him and bears an unsettling secret, at arms-length. Ichi also meets a brother and sister of samurai stock who are desperately trying to find their father's elusive killer. When their only witness is found dead, Ichi looks for clues that will ultimately lead him to a familiar and deadly opponent.

This episode can be seen as part of one long exploration and evolution of Zatoichi that reveals new subtleties only regular viewers of the series will fully appreciate. The Chest Expert is still entertaining on its own, but its best moments shed new light on the character. For the first time, we see Ichi truly as fallible when he repeatedly falls victim to his disability, yet there is more at work here. He makes a series of mistakes that may seem like a gifted blind man losing his touch, but in fact its all about morality. At the beginning, Ichi attempts to use his blindness as an excuse to receive a discount on boat fair and he ends up cursed for the rest of the episode with genuine clumsiness. But he fails to learn his lesson. Later, a careless and excessive two-legged kick by Ichi knocks a swordsman out a window and causes the injury to the girl. His attempt to swindle money from gamblers results in his first miscalculation and heavy monetary loss. He's punished once again by struggling to get her medicine and nearly loses it due to his blindness following another fight. Then as a capper, the recovered girl goes out of her way to offer Ichi the most honest "arigato" (thank you) he has ever received and he completely breaks down. This also explains why he refuses to let Otane, a woman of uncommon forgiveness, get close while he can only describe himself as dirt. But of course, he redeems himself in the eyes of the good people around him only to wander off alone again.

It's interesting to note that this particular script was crafted by Daisuke Ito, one of the original masters of the jidai geki who turned from directing to screenwriting in his final years. It would seem inevitable that Ito's experience with the period film, added to Katsu's intimate understanding of Ichi would result in a chambara film with such a meaningful story.

As actioner, the Chess Expert does not rank as one of the series' best. But there are still plenty of spirited sword fights and brawls. The film opens with Ichi besting a group of attackers in a match that holds no meaning until much later in the story. The next one is a humorous brawl fest that contains the aforementioned kick by Ichi. Trapped without his cane sword, Ichi resorts to some rather unorthodox methods to subdue a roomful of opponents. An ambush Ichi battles through has added tension for he's carrying the needed medicine. Then we get to the inevitable confrontation between Ichi and the calculating chess player, portrayed to perfection by Mikio Narita. This is immediately followed by another, even more tense fight with a child-abducting group of thugs who have been tracking Otane and Ichi for reasons best left to be discovered by the viewer.

Zatoichi and the Chess Expert is another wonderful classic in a wonderful series that seems to get better, or at least maintain its high standards with each new installment. Due to this film's depth, it's recommended, but not necessary that viewers start somewhere earlier in the series, ideally with The Tale of Zatoichi.

Japanese chambara films have long held a connection with the Westerns of Hollywood and this film tips it's hat further in that direction with an opening score straight out of a spaghetti Western. The main plot also shares strong similarities to a John Wayne Western entitled 3 Godfathers (1948), where three outlaws come across a dying mother in the desert and vow to bring her infant to safety. Having given up his place in a palanquin to a woman and her infant, Ichi later finds that attacking samurai have killed her thinking he was inside. Guilt-ridden, Ichi learns of the father many miles away and begins a journey to return the child to it's remaining parent. Even more so than On the Road, we find Ichi constantly on the move and this provides us a terrific mix of scenery and diverse situations comical, violent, and touching.

One of the great charms of this series is that Ichi, a nobleman at heart is constantly hip-deep in the most ludicrous and menial situations which makes him the champion of the commoner that he is. The opening credits focuses on his shuffling feet as they cautiously discover a large pile of dung in the road. Later on, he's sprayed in the face with urine from the child he's escorting and laughs it off. And as always, he's looked down upon by the world at large.

The main struggle Ichi faces beyond caring for the child is fending off attacks from members of the Monju clan who have been hired to kill him. We know Ichi is not to be bested by these thugs and the interest in these engagements comes from his narrow focus on the child's well being. In a barn, Ichi nonchalantly changes the child's diapers and coos as thugs creep up on him, only to face his cane sword as Ichi immediately returns to tending the child. In a another scene engineered as a brilliant crowd pleaser, Ichi is again attacked just after having put the child to sleep. As the swordsmen advance loudly, he "shushes" them and they stop in their tracks. The fight ends with Ichi shushing the remaining fighter who lets out a dying yelp as he falls dead. The filmmakers shamelessly pander to their audience, but they receive no complaints from this reviewer who relishes every minute of Ichi's playful dominance over his enemies.

Ichi eventually hooks up with a female pickpocket, played by Hizuro Takachiho, who is hired as the baby's nanny. She's a calloused and conniving woman who is saved from a samurai intent on getting his stolen purse back and killing her. In a nice little twist that shows some depth on the part of the filmmakers, Ichi defuses the situation with a humble demonstration of his sword skill. Hizuro's interplay with Ichi is really interesting as she ends up being mentored, rather than becoming a love interest.

This film really focuses on Ichi's human side and Shintaro Katsu pulls off a magnificent performance as a man brought to tears by his growing love for this little child. It's dramatically shown in every aspect. He dotes on the child and is as protective as any mother would be. A scene where he hires a prostitute to watch over the child so he can get one night of solid sleep is a humorous and poignant one because he never does get any sleep, although the prostitute does. He eventually brings the baby to it's father and discovers that the man never wanted the child or the mother. This is a classic finale for the film's story that presents Ichi with some tough choices.

All of this paternal or more appropriately maternal love taking center stage might lead you to think that Zatoichi was going soft. Hardly. The body count is sufficiently high with several outstanding fights. The real highlight is when he faces two sumo wrestlers. In the ensuing action, his cane sword is tossed several feet away and he's suddenly attacked by more Monju men. In a very impressively stage scene, he fends off their attacks until he can reach his sword. The final fight is against one remaining Monju man with the aid of Unosuke, the child's father, and his men. They devise a plan using fire that nearly proves fatal for Ichi and gives him a fresh challenge not seen before.

This series grows richer with every episode and Fight, Zatoichi, Fight is a fine example. The obligatory gambling scene is more exciting with Ichi having to care for the child while trying not to be cheated. Kenji's use of long and sometimes drawn out takes draws emphasis to beautiful scenery, the actors' performances, and a more emotive tone. This is captured perfectly by Kenji's pause in the story for Ichi to listen to a mother's lullaby sung to her own child as she slowly paces back and forth over a foot bridge. With many of these elements visited in previous films, it's possible to complain that Kenji and his crew stick to an increasingly set formula. But why change perfection? Zatoichi fans will not be disappointed.

A world weary Ichi once again finds his past and his reputation catching up with him. After chasing away a band of would-be swordsmen hoping to get revenge for the death of one their own, Ichi meets up with a childhood friend. Their charming reunion, highlighted by a song Ichi performs in celebration at an inn is cut short by masked thieves demanding money. One of the bandits is identified and Ichi pays them a visit the next day to collect the money with interest.

Ichi's rediscovery of his past continues after Banno, his sensei appears and conveniently disrupts another fight where Yasuhika, the brother of a yakuza member slain by Ichi offers a challenge. Ichi becomes reacquainted with the man who taught him how to handle a sword four years prior. Yet, it doesn't take eyes to see that Ichi's teacher is not a man of great or even good character. He demands that Yayoi, his sister marry into a samurai family despite her reluctance and he discards a mistress to her abusive husband. Worst of all, Banno concocts a plan to use eight criminals on the run to take 300 ryo from one of his student's family by having the thugs hold the young man for ransom. Making things worse, Ichi and Yayoi declare their love for one another and ask Banno for permission to marry. He not only refuses, but kicks Ichi out for good. Matters come to a head as Ichi finds that Yasuhika, a man he comes to respect has been killed by Banno, while his former teacher's plot is uncovered. After dispatching with the criminals, Ichi is confronted by his sensei.

Although we have already been introduced to Zatoichi in his prior films, this episode really begins to refine the character and his main struggle, not with blindness or discrimination, but with his vicious yakuza lifestyle. Early on we see a man who desires to be free from his own reputation which seems to only bring more suffering to those around him. We see a lighter, more human side of Ichi as he laughs with cheering children and sings about his simple, yet troubled life. Actor Shintaro Katsu really fills out the character. His subtle and comfortable performance as a regretful, yet deadly killer who yearns for happier days is easily the progenitor and better archetype for similar characters played by the likes of Clint Eastwood, Beat Takeshi, and Chow Yun Fat.

What the film does with this character as he wanders through a colorful tapestry of tightly woven characters and subplots is what grants this film genius status. One of the finest plot devices ever involves Ichi's vow he makes to Yayoi to put his killing behind him. This promise is strongly reinforced by Ichi offering his life to Yasuhika when he comes to challenge the blind man. Yasuhika spares his life out of grudging respect, but that's not the end of it. Banno refuses the union between Ichi and his sister, insults Ichi, and later kills Yasuhika who is drunk and unarmed. After Banno offers a challenge, Ichi is left with no option but to fight, thus breaking his oath with Yayoi and forcing him to return to his wandering. Western audiences might scoff at this romanticized ending, but in Japanese culture where integrity and shame weighs heavier than love, it is a fitting end.

Aesthetically, Zatoichi 3 benefits from the generally high production values of Japanese film from this period. This is the first color entry in the series and features lush, green settings that are mostly on soundstages, but you'll rarely notice or care. Chichi Makiura's camera work with elegant tracking shots is excellent. The direction, especially noticeable on fight scenes is pleasantly spartan, favoring strategic placement over quick edits which have come to be overused so often in modern action filmmaking.

Just about everything in this film is first rate. More location shooting would have been welcome, but the intimate nature of the plot works well on a more modest stage. The soundtrack does its job well, which is to accent the story without overpowering it. There is not a lot of swordplay, but what is present compliments the film's engrossing story and thus has greater impact. This is the kind of historical action film that is timeless and begs to be seen repeatedly for it's level of depth and character.

About thirty years ago Savant first crossed paths with author James Ursini, and read his and Alain Silver's piece on the films of Mario Bava in Photon magazine. I was fascinated by bizarre European movies, an interest far afield from normal 1974 UCLA film student concerns. You could read the early issues of the fantasy movie magazine, Cinefantastique, where a young Tim Lucas might be writing about some bizarre European item, wondering what the original looked like when what was released here had a new title, new credits, a poor projection print and an awful dubbed soundtrack. When I scheduled UCLA screenings, I'd show bills of films like Black Sunday, and Blood and Roses. In the UCLA reading room we had copies of obscure European books: Ornella Volta's Le Vampire, Lo Duca's Erotisme au Cinema, which were full of amazing photos of scenes cut from these films. Without explanation, they offered stills of Barbara Steele being whipped half-naked in a movie by an Italian with the baroque name of Mastrocinque, or a frighteningly gross blob-apparition oozing across Elsa Martinelli's bare chest in Et mourir de plaisir - "Blood and Roses."

The few European horror movies I'd run across were almost accidents, as I was a dyed-in-the-Hal Science Fiction fan. But I'd seen The Horror Chamber of Doctor Faustus without even knowing it was French, and like everyone else I'd seen Black Sabbath on television. After finally being knocked over by Danger:Diabolik in a midnight screening, I became permanently hooked on at least one European director: Mario Bava. Jim had been going to untold lengths to see these films, sometimes catching obscure double bills in Spanish in downtown L.A. fleapit movie houses. He once drove 60 miles to a drive-in in Bakersfield to see The Ghost. Ursini was classically educated and knew these movies by their original titles. Pretty soon we were referring to them as such ("Oh yeah,Cinque tombe per un medium.") without a hint of snobbery.

What we couldn't do was see many of the damn things. Jim would translate the French from his collection of Midi-Minuit Fantastique magazine; my wife Maria once interpreted a subtitle-free Sinister Cinema VHS tape of La sorella di Satana. The new wave of VHS didn't bring any huge influx of the key titles we wanted to see, and when they did show up they were the mutilated American versions.

One of the refreshingly wonderful things about DVD is that its economics have encouraged the proliferation of new companies dedicated to the non-mainstream cinema interests of their owners: AllDay, Anchor Bay, etc. Also, the biggest laserdisc distributor, Image Entertainment began the adventurous policy of issuing independently submitted productions in a special Euro-horror line. The shocking thing is that instead of the measly recycled 16mm prints we were used to, these new entrepreneurs are in many cases going back to the sources and remastering the films, often in uncensored continental versions. At the front of the pack is Image's 'Mario Bava Collection' line. Black Sunday is out in glorious 16:9 in its English language export version, The Mask of Satan. Highly awaited are the neglected Hatchet for the Honeymoon and Kill, Baby Kill! The most telling offering so far is this month's Lisa and the Devil, available separately from its retread version, The House of Exorcism, or together on a two-for-one double bill.

Lisa and the Devil is a special case because its genesis and eventual fate tell the story of Euro Horror in a nutshell, and help define the distinctions between, artistry and commercialism, and the genuine love of movies, as opposed to crass exploitation. I'm going to skip most of the usual review info on Lisa and the Devil to concentrate on this idea.

Synopsis:

Lisa Reiner (Elke Sommer) is a sightseer in Spain who steps away from her tour group, as it admires a painting of the Devil and the Dead on the side of an ancient building. In a manniquin-filled curio shop she encounters the first of a film-length succession of malevolent hallucinations: a man closely resembling the Devil in the painting (Telly Savalas). Then she meets a handsome mustachioed man claiming to be her long lost lover. She accidentally kills him. The 'devil man' is seen carrying a wax manniquin identical to the 'dead' lover. Abandoned by her tour, Lisa hitches a ride with a bickering rich couple (Sylva Koscina, Eduardo Fajardo) and ends up at a villa inhabited by the handsome but sullen young Max (Alessio Orano), his domineering near-blind mother Sophia (Alida Valli), and their sinister valet Leandro (Telly Savalas). Lisa naturally reacts fearfully to this new incarnation of the mystery devil-man, but has little choice but to go along with the bizarre happenings - including the murder and funeral arrangements for the rich couple's chauffeur (Gabrielle Tinti). Before the night is over, Lisa will see the apparent murder and resurrection of most all of them, will attempt to run away with the increasingly deranged Max, and experience a set of beautiful but macabre hallucinations of a previous life with the mustachioed lover. All of this culminates in a sex scene in a crumbling boudoir overrun by greenery: Lisa is stripped and seduced by the sexually frustrated Max in this abstract setting, with a rotting corpse lying by their side ....

Given a rare opportunity to make the film he wanted to make, Mario Bava sidestepped commercial concerns to fulfill the promise of Euro horror in a way not seen since the long-ago days of Vampyr, when the terms Art and Horror were not yet mutually exclusive. Lisa is practically non-linear and scriptless, and follows a flow dictated purely by the visual imagination of its director. Bava's always-arresting photography is on view, but instead of being the icing on a predictable genre plot ( as in Baron Blood), it IS the plot. In a genre where critics sometimes rationalize deficiencies by citing a 'dreamlike' atmosphere, Lisa and the Devil is a Dream Movie that can stand beside the Art cinema of celestial names like Michaelangelo Antonioni and Alain Resnais. There's nary a resuscitated Witch, mad doctor or vengeful Spirit in sight. The Devil never sprouts horns or produces fire and brimstone. The ghosts of Lisa and the Devil are pure mental abstractions.

There is plenty of gory mayhem and near-exploitative sex along the way. Hercules' Sylva Koscina is seen in some spuriously non-Bava near-graphic sex scene outtakes, courtesy of the producer. But the climactic necrophiliac encounter is so beautiful in conception, its effect is transcendent - a truly macabre sordid beauty. After a decade of compromised productions, Bava finally made a film that didn't pretend it was 'above' genre concerns, but instead refined them to a new purity.

Naturally, this film was an unsellable, undistributable disaster for its producer Alfredo Leone, whose commentary track is most compelling when talking about Lisa's failure. It was the first Bava film that failed to get a release - festival crowds approved, but even European exploitation producers liked their movies either more generically accessible, or more gross and crass, or all of the above. Horror fans on both sides of the Atlantic wanted mayhem and monsters, not transcendance.

James Ursini knew about Lisa and the Devil and often lamented the fact that it had been destroyed when its producer recut it two years later to make the exploitative variant The House of Exorcism. Fragments of the original film were weaved into a cheapjack ripoff of, what else, The Exorcist. Here was the big schism in film Horror. The last occurred back around 1960, when the psychological 'Horror of Personality' subgenre emerged fullblown in Psycho and Peeping Tom. Now William Friedkin had revived the genre as mainstream commercial material. He made his The Exorcist a completely objective series of mechanical, visceral shocks organized around a daring willingness to exploit basic faith as raw material. Just as the Porn film reached an apogee of acceptance, The Exorcist found a huge following in 1974. Following its lead, Horror went bigtime, but lost its last vestige of subtlety, beauty, and artistry. Even the occasional Hammer film had still retained some cinematic poetry. The genre had liberated filmmakers for half a century, and now The Exorcist had plunged it once again into the dark ages.

Producer Alfredo Leone did what any producer does to recoup his cash: he disembowled Lisa, reshot a bunch of Friedkin-imitating vomit scenes and made his money back and more with The House of Exorcism. It was a hit. It played in Los Angeles in top theaters, just as had the lame Beyond the Door, half a season earlier. Sitting through it after the original on Image's double-bill DVD is almost impossible without the excuse of listening to its commentary track. The competently shot new footage lacks the intangible Bava feeling (even though he reportedly helped in some of the reshoots). The joins between old and new footage function mechanically, but that is about it: when the 'possessed' Lisa transforms into a voluptouos nude lamia to seduce the priest (Robert Alda), one thinks of the average porn loop, not Simon of the Desert. The House of Exorcism is the same ol' depressing exploitation stew.

Lisa and the Devil ceased to exist, we thought, until a cassette and Laserdisc re-emerged from Leone earlier in the 90s. Revelation and Hosannas, a lost horror landmark was recovered - it was enough to warm the heart. Then DVD came along. Now it is possible to see uncut versions of Bava, Argento, even Lucio Fulci films, looking better than they did on movie screens. Savant says let's see it all and sort it out ... he'll do it too, while looking for the charm in Cannibal and Zombie epics that has eluded him up to now...

On a scale of Excellent, Good, Fair, and Poor, Lisa and the Devil rates:
Movie: Excellent...

On a scale of Excellent, Good, Fair, and Poor, House of Exorcism rates:
Movie: Poor, no, I take it back, appalling. The Mobius Forum people are going to eviscerate me for my Exorcist opinions anyway, so why hold back?...

This is a juicy concept with plenty of opportunity for cat-and-mouse thrills. The first Infernal Affairs from 2002 certainly delivers on that promise, but also goes above and beyond in its attention to fantastically rich psychological depth and the personal relationships of the characters. Each man is conflicted in his duties, struggling to understand and assert his own identity in light of what he must do for his job. Each must face a distinct moral dilemma and decide who he really wants to be. Do the ends truly justify the means? Is redemption possible for a person who has done so many terrible things to achieve a goal he isn't even sure he believes in anymore?

Infernal Affairs is a tightly written and directed movie that packs a lot of substance into its 100-minute length. It has hardly a single wasted or extraneous moment. It has excitement and suspense, rich character development, terrific acting from a large cast, and manages to guide the audience through a labyrinthine and complex plot while developing strong attachments to even minor characters. Its tragic, ironic climax has deep emotional resonance, though unfortunately a last-minute tacked-on ending is something of a cop-out and the movie would have closed stronger if the credits came up a couple of minutes earlier. Despite this minor flaw, however, it is one of the best movies to ever come out of the Hong Kong film industry. The picture was a blockbuster hit throughout Asia, won countless local awards, and spawned two back-to-back sequels the following year of 2003.

If it seems like the first movie should be a self-contained entity with no room for a sequel, Infernal Affairs II proves just how ambitiously filmmakers Andrew Lau (not related to the actor) and Alan Mak really set their sights. Taking a cue from The Godfather Part II, the directors retraced their characters' steps by staging the second movie as a prequel depicting the recruitment and early careers of the teenage Yan and Ming. Almost the entire original cast returns, with the exception of Leung and Lau, whose characters are played by the same younger actors used in the first picture's flashback scenes.

Far from the redundant cash-in it might have been, Infernal Affairs II tells an engrossing story that adds further depth to the events of the first movie by showing us the scope of the backstory leading up to them. With this entry, Infernal Affairs becomes more than just a crime drama; it's a true epic of honor, loyalty, morality, and family. Given a chance to shine here are the father-figures from the first film of triad boss Sam (Eric Tsang) and Inspector Wong (Anthony Wong), whose complicated relationship was hinted at but not fully revealed the first time around. The prequel is longer and a bit messier than the original, with a lot of new characters and a jumpy structure that can be confusing on first viewing. The two teenage leads also look a lot alike, which can be disorienting. On the other hand, it has several genuinely powerful, operatic story arcs and a number of shocking twists. It's a worthy follow-up that both builds off and adds to its predecessor, and was another big critical and commercial success.

Tony Leung and Andy Lau return in Infernal Affairs III. The most complexly structured of the three movies, the final entry serves as both a direct sequel to the first movie, its primary storyline picking up a few months after the original's climax, and a between-quel with a number of flashbacks that take place after the events depicted in part II but before those of part I. Having successfully kept his identity and motives a secret, Ming finds his life falling apart as he deals with the fallout of his previous actions. His wife has left him and the police department has moved him to a desk job as they sort out the investigation of his interaction with Yan. Eventually reassigned to Internal Affairs, Ming's first job is to dig out the other triad moles in the police force. Both out of his desire to do the right thing and a desperate need to cover his own ass, Ming hunts these men down and whacks them one by one until facing off against Inspector Yeung (Leon Lai from Heroic Duo), a man he is convinced was Sam's most important mole and will be the best target to pin his own crimes on.

For whatever reason, big movie trilogies rarely ever conclude on their strongest note. So it is with Infernal Affairs III, which while still a pretty good movie overall is unfortunately the least successful of the series. Most of the blame is due to the film's overly complicated structure, which jumps around too much for the viewer to ever get a firm handle on what's going on or to develop attachments to any one storyline. Although flashbacks allow most of the original cast to return in some capacity, the compelling characters of Sam and Wong are reduced to mere cameos and even Yan hardly has much to do here. Tony Leung doesn't seem particularly involved in the role, as if he'd lost interest, and worse his clean-shaven appearance (he must have shaved for another movie and not had time to grow out his straggly facial hair) makes him look older and creates a number of continuity errors with the events of the first movie. The film's plot has too many twists for its own good. The movie seems to have three or four different endings before finally drawing to a close, and the scene that does finally end the series was not the most effective choice.

What does work in Infernal Affairs III, however, is the continued evolution and breakdown of Ming's character, a man so obsessed with finding personal redemption that he loses sight of the true effects of his actions. The movie also has some clever reworking of the events from part I as we see the version of the story as Ming tells it. Part III even goes out of the way to fill in some of the unexplained gaps in the first movie, such as why Yan was wearing a cast early in the picture, why he was working in a stereo shop for one scene, and why he visits a psychiatrist. Perhaps not all of these details were necessary to explain, but by the time the trilogy is over it has a satisfying cohesion from one part to the next, and feels as though the entire story were elaborately mapped out in advance, unlike many other "trilogies" where one hit film is followed by two needless cash-in sequels.

The Infernal Affairs Trilogy may have some ups and downs, but the sum total of its achievement is a staggering artistic accomplishment. It's a bold and daring merger of police thriller, epic crime saga, and complex psychological drama that deserves to stand with such classics as the Godfather films, Goodfellas, or Michael Mann's Heat...

This is a juicy concept with plenty of opportunity for cat-and-mouse thrills. The first Infernal Affairs from 2002 certainly delivers on that promise, but also goes above and beyond in its attention to fantastically rich psychological depth and the personal relationships of the characters. Each man is conflicted in his duties, struggling to understand and assert his own identity in light of what he must do for his job. Each must face a distinct moral dilemma and decide who he really wants to be. Do the ends truly justify the means? Is redemption possible for a person who has done so many terrible things to achieve a goal he isn't even sure he believes in anymore?

Infernal Affairs is a tightly written and directed movie that packs a lot of substance into its 100-minute length. It has hardly a single wasted or extraneous moment. It has excitement and suspense, rich character development, terrific acting from a large cast, and manages to guide the audience through a labyrinthine and complex plot while developing strong attachments to even minor characters. Its tragic, ironic climax has deep emotional resonance, though unfortunately a last-minute tacked-on ending is something of a cop-out and the movie would have closed stronger if the credits came up a couple of minutes earlier. Despite this minor flaw, however, it is one of the best movies to ever come out of the Hong Kong film industry. The picture was a blockbuster hit throughout Asia, won countless local awards, and spawned two back-to-back sequels the following year of 2003.

If it seems like the first movie should be a self-contained entity with no room for a sequel, Infernal Affairs II proves just how ambitiously filmmakers Andrew Lau (not related to the actor) and Alan Mak really set their sights. Taking a cue from The Godfather Part II, the directors retraced their characters' steps by staging the second movie as a prequel depicting the recruitment and early careers of the teenage Yan and Ming. Almost the entire original cast returns, with the exception of Leung and Lau, whose characters are played by the same younger actors used in the first picture's flashback scenes.

Far from the redundant cash-in it might have been, Infernal Affairs II tells an engrossing story that adds further depth to the events of the first movie by showing us the scope of the backstory leading up to them. With this entry, Infernal Affairs becomes more than just a crime drama; it's a true epic of honor, loyalty, morality, and family. Given a chance to shine here are the father-figures from the first film of triad boss Sam (Eric Tsang) and Inspector Wong (Anthony Wong), whose complicated relationship was hinted at but not fully revealed the first time around. The prequel is longer and a bit messier than the original, with a lot of new characters and a jumpy structure that can be confusing on first viewing. The two teenage leads also look a lot alike, which can be disorienting. On the other hand, it has several genuinely powerful, operatic story arcs and a number of shocking twists. It's a worthy follow-up that both builds off and adds to its predecessor, and was another big critical and commercial success.

Tony Leung and Andy Lau return in Infernal Affairs III. The most complexly structured of the three movies, the final entry serves as both a direct sequel to the first movie, its primary storyline picking up a few months after the original's climax, and a between-quel with a number of flashbacks that take place after the events depicted in part II but before those of part I. Having successfully kept his identity and motives a secret, Ming finds his life falling apart as he deals with the fallout of his previous actions. His wife has left him and the police department has moved him to a desk job as they sort out the investigation of his interaction with Yan. Eventually reassigned to Internal Affairs, Ming's first job is to dig out the other triad moles in the police force. Both out of his desire to do the right thing and a desperate need to cover his own ass, Ming hunts these men down and whacks them one by one until facing off against Inspector Yeung (Leon Lai from Heroic Duo), a man he is convinced was Sam's most important mole and will be the best target to pin his own crimes on.

For whatever reason, big movie trilogies rarely ever conclude on their strongest note. So it is with Infernal Affairs III, which while still a pretty good movie overall is unfortunately the least successful of the series. Most of the blame is due to the film's overly complicated structure, which jumps around too much for the viewer to ever get a firm handle on what's going on or to develop attachments to any one storyline. Although flashbacks allow most of the original cast to return in some capacity, the compelling characters of Sam and Wong are reduced to mere cameos and even Yan hardly has much to do here. Tony Leung doesn't seem particularly involved in the role, as if he'd lost interest, and worse his clean-shaven appearance (he must have shaved for another movie and not had time to grow out his straggly facial hair) makes him look older and creates a number of continuity errors with the events of the first movie. The film's plot has too many twists for its own good. The movie seems to have three or four different endings before finally drawing to a close, and the scene that does finally end the series was not the most effective choice.

What does work in Infernal Affairs III, however, is the continued evolution and breakdown of Ming's character, a man so obsessed with finding personal redemption that he loses sight of the true effects of his actions. The movie also has some clever reworking of the events from part I as we see the version of the story as Ming tells it. Part III even goes out of the way to fill in some of the unexplained gaps in the first movie, such as why Yan was wearing a cast early in the picture, why he was working in a stereo shop for one scene, and why he visits a psychiatrist. Perhaps not all of these details were necessary to explain, but by the time the trilogy is over it has a satisfying cohesion from one part to the next, and feels as though the entire story were elaborately mapped out in advance, unlike many other "trilogies" where one hit film is followed by two needless cash-in sequels.

The Infernal Affairs Trilogy may have some ups and downs, but the sum total of its achievement is a staggering artistic accomplishment. It's a bold and daring merger of police thriller, epic crime saga, and complex psychological drama that deserves to stand with such classics as the Godfather films, Goodfellas, or Michael Mann's Heat...

This is a juicy concept with plenty of opportunity for cat-and-mouse thrills. The first Infernal Affairs from 2002 certainly delivers on that promise, but also goes above and beyond in its attention to fantastically rich psychological depth and the personal relationships of the characters. Each man is conflicted in his duties, struggling to understand and assert his own identity in light of what he must do for his job. Each must face a distinct moral dilemma and decide who he really wants to be. Do the ends truly justify the means? Is redemption possible for a person who has done so many terrible things to achieve a goal he isn't even sure he believes in anymore?

Infernal Affairs is a tightly written and directed movie that packs a lot of substance into its 100-minute length. It has hardly a single wasted or extraneous moment. It has excitement and suspense, rich character development, terrific acting from a large cast, and manages to guide the audience through a labyrinthine and complex plot while developing strong attachments to even minor characters. Its tragic, ironic climax has deep emotional resonance, though unfortunately a last-minute tacked-on ending is something of a cop-out and the movie would have closed stronger if the credits came up a couple of minutes earlier. Despite this minor flaw, however, it is one of the best movies to ever come out of the Hong Kong film industry. The picture was a blockbuster hit throughout Asia, won countless local awards, and spawned two back-to-back sequels the following year of 2003.

If it seems like the first movie should be a self-contained entity with no room for a sequel, Infernal Affairs II proves just how ambitiously filmmakers Andrew Lau (not related to the actor) and Alan Mak really set their sights. Taking a cue from The Godfather Part II, the directors retraced their characters' steps by staging the second movie as a prequel depicting the recruitment and early careers of the teenage Yan and Ming. Almost the entire original cast returns, with the exception of Leung and Lau, whose characters are played by the same younger actors used in the first picture's flashback scenes.

Far from the redundant cash-in it might have been, Infernal Affairs II tells an engrossing story that adds further depth to the events of the first movie by showing us the scope of the backstory leading up to them. With this entry, Infernal Affairs becomes more than just a crime drama; it's a true epic of honor, loyalty, morality, and family. Given a chance to shine here are the father-figures from the first film of triad boss Sam (Eric Tsang) and Inspector Wong (Anthony Wong), whose complicated relationship was hinted at but not fully revealed the first time around. The prequel is longer and a bit messier than the original, with a lot of new characters and a jumpy structure that can be confusing on first viewing. The two teenage leads also look a lot alike, which can be disorienting. On the other hand, it has several genuinely powerful, operatic story arcs and a number of shocking twists. It's a worthy follow-up that both builds off and adds to its predecessor, and was another big critical and commercial success.

Tony Leung and Andy Lau return in Infernal Affairs III. The most complexly structured of the three movies, the final entry serves as both a direct sequel to the first movie, its primary storyline picking up a few months after the original's climax, and a between-quel with a number of flashbacks that take place after the events depicted in part II but before those of part I. Having successfully kept his identity and motives a secret, Ming finds his life falling apart as he deals with the fallout of his previous actions. His wife has left him and the police department has moved him to a desk job as they sort out the investigation of his interaction with Yan. Eventually reassigned to Internal Affairs, Ming's first job is to dig out the other triad moles in the police force. Both out of his desire to do the right thing and a desperate need to cover his own ass, Ming hunts these men down and whacks them one by one until facing off against Inspector Yeung (Leon Lai from Heroic Duo), a man he is convinced was Sam's most important mole and will be the best target to pin his own crimes on.

For whatever reason, big movie trilogies rarely ever conclude on their strongest note. So it is with Infernal Affairs III, which while still a pretty good movie overall is unfortunately the least successful of the series. Most of the blame is due to the film's overly complicated structure, which jumps around too much for the viewer to ever get a firm handle on what's going on or to develop attachments to any one storyline. Although flashbacks allow most of the original cast to return in some capacity, the compelling characters of Sam and Wong are reduced to mere cameos and even Yan hardly has much to do here. Tony Leung doesn't seem particularly involved in the role, as if he'd lost interest, and worse his clean-shaven appearance (he must have shaved for another movie and not had time to grow out his straggly facial hair) makes him look older and creates a number of continuity errors with the events of the first movie. The film's plot has too many twists for its own good. The movie seems to have three or four different endings before finally drawing to a close, and the scene that does finally end the series was not the most effective choice.

What does work in Infernal Affairs III, however, is the continued evolution and breakdown of Ming's character, a man so obsessed with finding personal redemption that he loses sight of the true effects of his actions. The movie also has some clever reworking of the events from part I as we see the version of the story as Ming tells it. Part III even goes out of the way to fill in some of the unexplained gaps in the first movie, such as why Yan was wearing a cast early in the picture, why he was working in a stereo shop for one scene, and why he visits a psychiatrist. Perhaps not all of these details were necessary to explain, but by the time the trilogy is over it has a satisfying cohesion from one part to the next, and feels as though the entire story were elaborately mapped out in advance, unlike many other "trilogies" where one hit film is followed by two needless cash-in sequels.

The Infernal Affairs Trilogy may have some ups and downs, but the sum total of its achievement is a staggering artistic accomplishment. It's a bold and daring merger of police thriller, epic crime saga, and complex psychological drama that deserves to stand with such classics as the Godfather films, Goodfellas, or Michael Mann's Heat...

This is a juicy concept with plenty of opportunity for cat-and-mouse thrills. The first Infernal Affairs from 2002 certainly delivers on that promise, but also goes above and beyond in its attention to fantastically rich psychological depth and the personal relationships of the characters. Each man is conflicted in his duties, struggling to understand and assert his own identity in light of what he must do for his job. Each must face a distinct moral dilemma and decide who he really wants to be. Do the ends truly justify the means? Is redemption possible for a person who has done so many terrible things to achieve a goal he isn't even sure he believes in anymore?

Infernal Affairs is a tightly written and directed movie that packs a lot of substance into its 100-minute length. It has hardly a single wasted or extraneous moment. It has excitement and suspense, rich character development, terrific acting from a large cast, and manages to guide the audience through a labyrinthine and complex plot while developing strong attachments to even minor characters. Its tragic, ironic climax has deep emotional resonance, though unfortunately a last-minute tacked-on ending is something of a cop-out and the movie would have closed stronger if the credits came up a couple of minutes earlier. Despite this minor flaw, however, it is one of the best movies to ever come out of the Hong Kong film industry. The picture was a blockbuster hit throughout Asia, won countless local awards, and spawned two back-to-back sequels the following year of 2003.

If it seems like the first movie should be a self-contained entity with no room for a sequel, Infernal Affairs II proves just how ambitiously filmmakers Andrew Lau (not related to the actor) and Alan Mak really set their sights. Taking a cue from The Godfather Part II, the directors retraced their characters' steps by staging the second movie as a prequel depicting the recruitment and early careers of the teenage Yan and Ming. Almost the entire original cast returns, with the exception of Leung and Lau, whose characters are played by the same younger actors used in the first picture's flashback scenes.

Far from the redundant cash-in it might have been, Infernal Affairs II tells an engrossing story that adds further depth to the events of the first movie by showing us the scope of the backstory leading up to them. With this entry, Infernal Affairs becomes more than just a crime drama; it's a true epic of honor, loyalty, morality, and family. Given a chance to shine here are the father-figures from the first film of triad boss Sam (Eric Tsang) and Inspector Wong (Anthony Wong), whose complicated relationship was hinted at but not fully revealed the first time around. The prequel is longer and a bit messier than the original, with a lot of new characters and a jumpy structure that can be confusing on first viewing. The two teenage leads also look a lot alike, which can be disorienting. On the other hand, it has several genuinely powerful, operatic story arcs and a number of shocking twists. It's a worthy follow-up that both builds off and adds to its predecessor, and was another big critical and commercial success.

Tony Leung and Andy Lau return in Infernal Affairs III. The most complexly structured of the three movies, the final entry serves as both a direct sequel to the first movie, its primary storyline picking up a few months after the original's climax, and a between-quel with a number of flashbacks that take place after the events depicted in part II but before those of part I. Having successfully kept his identity and motives a secret, Ming finds his life falling apart as he deals with the fallout of his previous actions. His wife has left him and the police department has moved him to a desk job as they sort out the investigation of his interaction with Yan. Eventually reassigned to Internal Affairs, Ming's first job is to dig out the other triad moles in the police force. Both out of his desire to do the right thing and a desperate need to cover his own ass, Ming hunts these men down and whacks them one by one until facing off against Inspector Yeung (Leon Lai from Heroic Duo), a man he is convinced was Sam's most important mole and will be the best target to pin his own crimes on.

For whatever reason, big movie trilogies rarely ever conclude on their strongest note. So it is with Infernal Affairs III, which while still a pretty good movie overall is unfortunately the least successful of the series. Most of the blame is due to the film's overly complicated structure, which jumps around too much for the viewer to ever get a firm handle on what's going on or to develop attachments to any one storyline. Although flashbacks allow most of the original cast to return in some capacity, the compelling characters of Sam and Wong are reduced to mere cameos and even Yan hardly has much to do here. Tony Leung doesn't seem particularly involved in the role, as if he'd lost interest, and worse his clean-shaven appearance (he must have shaved for another movie and not had time to grow out his straggly facial hair) makes him look older and creates a number of continuity errors with the events of the first movie. The film's plot has too many twists for its own good. The movie seems to have three or four different endings before finally drawing to a close, and the scene that does finally end the series was not the most effective choice.

What does work in Infernal Affairs III, however, is the continued evolution and breakdown of Ming's character, a man so obsessed with finding personal redemption that he loses sight of the true effects of his actions. The movie also has some clever reworking of the events from part I as we see the version of the story as Ming tells it. Part III even goes out of the way to fill in some of the unexplained gaps in the first movie, such as why Yan was wearing a cast early in the picture, why he was working in a stereo shop for one scene, and why he visits a psychiatrist. Perhaps not all of these details were necessary to explain, but by the time the trilogy is over it has a satisfying cohesion from one part to the next, and feels as though the entire story were elaborately mapped out in advance, unlike many other "trilogies" where one hit film is followed by two needless cash-in sequels.

The Infernal Affairs Trilogy may have some ups and downs, but the sum total of its achievement is a staggering artistic accomplishment. It's a bold and daring merger of police thriller, epic crime saga, and complex psychological drama that deserves to stand with such classics as the Godfather films, Goodfellas, or Michael Mann's Heat...

This is a juicy concept with plenty of opportunity for cat-and-mouse thrills. The first Infernal Affairs from 2002 certainly delivers on that promise, but also goes above and beyond in its attention to fantastically rich psychological depth and the personal relationships of the characters. Each man is conflicted in his duties, struggling to understand and assert his own identity in light of what he must do for his job. Each must face a distinct moral dilemma and decide who he really wants to be. Do the ends truly justify the means? Is redemption possible for a person who has done so many terrible things to achieve a goal he isn't even sure he believes in anymore?

Infernal Affairs is a tightly written and directed movie that packs a lot of substance into its 100-minute length. It has hardly a single wasted or extraneous moment. It has excitement and suspense, rich character development, terrific acting from a large cast, and manages to guide the audience through a labyrinthine and complex plot while developing strong attachments to even minor characters. Its tragic, ironic climax has deep emotional resonance, though unfortunately a last-minute tacked-on ending is something of a cop-out and the movie would have closed stronger if the credits came up a couple of minutes earlier. Despite this minor flaw, however, it is one of the best movies to ever come out of the Hong Kong film industry. The picture was a blockbuster hit throughout Asia, won countless local awards, and spawned two back-to-back sequels the following year of 2003.

If it seems like the first movie should be a self-contained entity with no room for a sequel, Infernal Affairs II proves just how ambitiously filmmakers Andrew Lau (not related to the actor) and Alan Mak really set their sights. Taking a cue from The Godfather Part II, the directors retraced their characters' steps by staging the second movie as a prequel depicting the recruitment and early careers of the teenage Yan and Ming. Almost the entire original cast returns, with the exception of Leung and Lau, whose characters are played by the same younger actors used in the first picture's flashback scenes.

Far from the redundant cash-in it might have been, Infernal Affairs II tells an engrossing story that adds further depth to the events of the first movie by showing us the scope of the backstory leading up to them. With this entry, Infernal Affairs becomes more than just a crime drama; it's a true epic of honor, loyalty, morality, and family. Given a chance to shine here are the father-figures from the first film of triad boss Sam (Eric Tsang) and Inspector Wong (Anthony Wong), whose complicated relationship was hinted at but not fully revealed the first time around. The prequel is longer and a bit messier than the original, with a lot of new characters and a jumpy structure that can be confusing on first viewing. The two teenage leads also look a lot alike, which can be disorienting. On the other hand, it has several genuinely powerful, operatic story arcs and a number of shocking twists. It's a worthy follow-up that both builds off and adds to its predecessor, and was another big critical and commercial success.

Tony Leung and Andy Lau return in Infernal Affairs III. The most complexly structured of the three movies, the final entry serves as both a direct sequel to the first movie, its primary storyline picking up a few months after the original's climax, and a between-quel with a number of flashbacks that take place after the events depicted in part II but before those of part I. Having successfully kept his identity and motives a secret, Ming finds his life falling apart as he deals with the fallout of his previous actions. His wife has left him and the police department has moved him to a desk job as they sort out the investigation of his interaction with Yan. Eventually reassigned to Internal Affairs, Ming's first job is to dig out the other triad moles in the police force. Both out of his desire to do the right thing and a desperate need to cover his own ass, Ming hunts these men down and whacks them one by one until facing off against Inspector Yeung (Leon Lai from Heroic Duo), a man he is convinced was Sam's most important mole and will be the best target to pin his own crimes on.

For whatever reason, big movie trilogies rarely ever conclude on their strongest note. So it is with Infernal Affairs III, which while still a pretty good movie overall is unfortunately the least successful of the series. Most of the blame is due to the film's overly complicated structure, which jumps around too much for the viewer to ever get a firm handle on what's going on or to develop attachments to any one storyline. Although flashbacks allow most of the original cast to return in some capacity, the compelling characters of Sam and Wong are reduced to mere cameos and even Yan hardly has much to do here. Tony Leung doesn't seem particularly involved in the role, as if he'd lost interest, and worse his clean-shaven appearance (he must have shaved for another movie and not had time to grow out his straggly facial hair) makes him look older and creates a number of continuity errors with the events of the first movie. The film's plot has too many twists for its own good. The movie seems to have three or four different endings before finally drawing to a close, and the scene that does finally end the series was not the most effective choice.

What does work in Infernal Affairs III, however, is the continued evolution and breakdown of Ming's character, a man so obsessed with finding personal redemption that he loses sight of the true effects of his actions. The movie also has some clever reworking of the events from part I as we see the version of the story as Ming tells it. Part III even goes out of the way to fill in some of the unexplained gaps in the first movie, such as why Yan was wearing a cast early in the picture, why he was working in a stereo shop for one scene, and why he visits a psychiatrist. Perhaps not all of these details were necessary to explain, but by the time the trilogy is over it has a satisfying cohesion from one part to the next, and feels as though the entire story were elaborately mapped out in advance, unlike many other "trilogies" where one hit film is followed by two needless cash-in sequels.

The Infernal Affairs Trilogy may have some ups and downs, but the sum total of its achievement is a staggering artistic accomplishment. It's a bold and daring merger of police thriller, epic crime saga, and complex psychological drama that deserves to stand with such classics as the Godfather films, Goodfellas, or Michael Mann's Heat...

Soon though, he runs into Tomoe (Rie Miyazawa), the first girl he ever loved and a lifelong friend of his. She was formerly married to a wealthy samurai, but has left him because he was physically and mentally abusive to her. Tomoe and Seibei fall in love, but he won’t marry her because he feels he is too poor to give her a good life.

When the leader of Seibei’s clan is killed, he’s forced to face combat with a lone samurai. Despite the fact that he is less than thrilled with this idea, the code to which he still holds credence to demands he accept it.

The big winner at the Awards Of The Japanese Academy (it won in thirteen categories, including Best Picture, Best Actor, Best Actress, Best Cinematography, and Best Director), and nominated last year for best foreign film at the Oscars, The Twilight Samurai is one of those rare films that deserves all the praise lauded upon it. Much of that credit has to go to director Yoji Yamada and cinematographer Mutsuo Naganuma, who have created such a sumptuous and gorgeous looking film that it’s almost impossible not to pay attention to. It’s a quiet film with an epic scope that makes the culmination of the events that take place in the finale all that more important because of it. Plenty of sweeping shots of the beautiful Japanese countryside are contrasted with the squalid conditions in which Seibei resides, making for an interesting visual kaleidoscope.

The performances are also great, especially the two leads. Those only familiar with Sanada’s action films from the seventies and eighties, for which he is best known at least in North America, will find much to admire about this very serious role which he handles with ease. Sure, it’s fun to watch him bust heads at the side of Sonny Chiba in films like The Executioner and Ninja Wars but here he plays his role with such care and restraint that it almost feels like he’s another person completely. Miyazawa is wonderful as Tomoe. Her plight is believable and almost too real at times.

Those expecting the relentless action and bloodshed of better known samurai films as the Lone Wolf And Cub or Lady Snowblood films, the finale is no less tense because of it. While essentially a love story, the film also plays off on the very nature of a man who will do whatever he has to in order to support his family, even if it means going against the system he is supposed to believe in.

Final Thoughts:
The Twilight Samurai is a beautifully made film that totally deserves to be seen by a wider audience. It’s very well directed with gorgeous cinematography and great performances.

We are first introduced to Ming (Andy Lau) and Yan (Tony Leung) when they are two top police cadets, but each is destined for very different things. Infernal Affairs tells their parallel stories as Ming is recruited by Triad leader, Sam (Eric Tsang) to infiltrate the police force as a mole. Meanwhile, Yan seemingly gets kicked out of the academy, but has actually been recruited by Superintendent Wong (Anthony Wong), to go undercover in Sam's gang.

Fast forward ten years to the present day and Ming has become a Sergeant in the Criminal Intelligence Bureau. Using Sam's help to tip him off about rival Triad activities, Ming hopes to eventually be promoted to Inspector. Yan, on the other hand, has been convicted several times, jailed twice and forced to undergo psychological counseling during his time spent undercover. Ming and Yan feel increasingly trapped in their secret lives and are desperate for a way out. Ming is trying to sever his ties with the Triads and become a real cop. Yan is striving to regain his real identity, but only Superintendent Wong can help him, since he's the only one who knows he's undercover.

Both men's paths finally cross during an attempt by the police to topple Sam's Triad organization, and each realize there's a mole on the other side. What then follows is a series of cat and mouse games as each man tries to uncover the other's identity first. Adding to the chaos, Ming gets his promotion but is then transferred to Internal Affairs where his first assignment is to uncover the mole in the police department. What begins as two men embedding themselves in the other's opposing world ends in a showdown as these two fight for an actual identity. Infernal Affairs uses the device of two parties trying to outwit the other, but does not draw on the traditional formulas of that genre. Instead, it is a masterful puzzle you watch unfold until the final piece is revealed in the stunning finale.

Infernal Affairs lives up to all of it's hype and is one of the best movies to come out of Hong Kong in years. Considering how simple the actual plot is, it's amazing how enthralling and tense the film is. Andy Lau and Tony Leung play their characters to a T, as the lives they lead slowly eat away at them. The filmmakers play around with their characters in a way that they eventually question themselves and what they believe in. Will they be able to escape their fates, or will they be forced to follow the paths chosen for them?

Sent on a reporting assignment to cover the life of the average fire department facility, T.V. personality Angela (Manuela Velasco) is stuck with the mundane details of fireman life. Becoming frustrated with her botched attempts to add some spice into this monotonous story, Angela's fortunes change when a call arrives requesting emergency assistance at an apartment complex. Tagging along with the fire trucks, Angela and her cameraman Pablo head into the building, only to be quickly sealed in by faceless government officials. Now trapped with angry cops, paranoid residents, and an anxious medical professional, Angela and her roving camera discover the true reason for the quarantine...and it's hungry for flesh.

There's something beautiful in the courageous way "Rec" composes scares. The market for reality horror has become saturated, and "Rec" doesn't feature the most original concept to flop around in buckets of blood, but directors Jaume Balaguero and Paco Plaza challenge the expectations set for this low-budget, high-concept endeavor by weaving together a symphony of scares in increasingly inventive fashion.

I was thrilled watching "Rec" snowball into a seething siren of panic, observing Angela and her camera fight to capture the unfolding drama of the quarantine, hoping for a juicy government injustice tale, only to witness the matter go from curious to life-threatening as the bodies start to pile up with no hope for survival. Shot POV from Pablo's television camera, "Rec" can be a jittery, quaky visual affair with liberal deployment of zooming and a penchant for actors screaming their lines hysterically into the lens. A lesser filmmaker would've abuse this privilege, but Balaguero and Plaza take the first-person format to dizzying new heights.

The editing here is tremendous, hiding the necessary cuts that turn moments of fright into utter madness. Also impressive is the cast, who rarely give the gimmick away, even in a few comedic scenes included to give the viewer a needed rest. As witnessed in the aforementioned "Cloverfield" and "Diary of the Dead," conjuring reality is not an easy accomplishment, yet "Rec" stays within the sight lines of plausibility, at least in terms of acting.

The rest of the film? Dear lord, I hope it remains fiction.

I don't want to give too much away when it comes to the finer points of "Rec" (sure to be thoroughly pantsed in the goofy-looking American remake "Quarantine," coming this fall), so I'll just write simply that Angela has to battle her way through a living nightmare of body-hurling, throat-munching, night-vision horrors, with plenty of surprises leaping feverishly around the frame for good measure. I wasn't tickled with the film's climatic stab at establishing some iffy logic to the proceedings, but it's an easily forgiven blunder in a movie this brilliantly executed and insistently frightening.

On vacation in Mexico, four college students (Shawn Ashmore, Jena Malone, Laura Ramsey, and Jonathan Tucker) meet a German tourist (Joe Anderson) looking to break away from the grind of perfect beaches and bottomless margaritas. Their adventure destination is a lost Mayan temple located in the middle of a dense jungle, and once arrived, the group tragically learns they are not welcome by the vicious locals. Trapped on top of the temple, the students quickly grasp they are not alone, finding the flowers and vines that surround them have a taste for blood. Toying with the group, the flora waits patiently as injury and madness soon settles in, leaving the hapless youngsters with no means of escape.

Adapted by Scott Smith ("A Simple Plan") from his own novel, "The Ruins" is governed by one rule: razor-sharp simplicity. There's no undercurrent of absurd social commentary, no extraneous subplots vying for screentime; "The Ruins" is a straightforward exercise in endurance and disturbing imagery. Not having personally experienced the novel, I didn't sense any gaps in the storytelling, which is a credit to Smith, who overhauled his original plot to streamline the agony. It's a triumphant piece of scripting, securing the tension to the front burners at all times and staging sequences not for their jump-scare potential, but for more gut-wrenching results that will surely leave weak-kneed audience members sprinting for the exits.

Director Carter Smith ("Bugcrush") is game to go where Smith leads and he rarely breaks the film's constant haze of dread. "Ruins" dabbles in psychological torment, yet the heart of this beast lies in old-fashioned displays of gore, with the characters digging around in their own bodies with knives in a pathetic attempt to keep the vines literally out of their system. Certainly this isn't high art, but "Ruins" is near-perfect at manipulating its audience, emphasizing physical threat and consequence, with a profound admiration for armrest-squeezing bodily harm on a level few recent horror productions would dare explore.

The acting by the young leads is better than expected, especially the work committed to the screen here by Laura Ramsey, who is the only member of the cast to reach the next level of despair as the vines attempt to find a warm home under her skin. Smith wisely keeps the actorly hysterics to a minimum, preferring visual communication of suffering that's incredibly more effective riling up the audience than bad actors allowed free reign to act badly.

It could be the steady diet of numbskull horror offerings lately, but I was with "Ruins" for the entire ride, delighting in the merciless direction and fantastical botanical twists with eyes wide open. It's one of those strap-in-and-ride-it-out experiences that are all too rare; forgoing elaborate strands of exposition to settle on more direct lunges of terror. It's a marvelous nightmare machine.

The Plot:
TV wunderkind Warren Piece and his American Idol like cast of critical cohorts - former A-lister Laura Wilcox and confused corrections officer David Smith - are self-centered schmoes. Together they create some of the most successful reality TV ever produced, but they are all burdened with personal issues. Smith wants to be taken seriously as part of the entertainment industry. Wilcox is working off a 'fat actress' reputation. And Piece needs to make up for a previous production disaster. When desperate network CNT puts a newbie in charge of production, the trio thinks they've found a friendly ear. All that's left is to pitch their latest project. And it's a dozy. Piece wants to find a group of photogenic, engaging 'retards, psychos, and freaks' to star in his latest reality brainstorm - Handicaps. That's right, He plans on picking individuals with differing physical and/or mental issues and force them to live together in a swanky Addams Family-like Victorian house of humors. Then he can monitor their behavior and manipulate the playback in order to discover what it's really like when mongoloids and misfits stop being polite, and start being...well, he hasn't quite gotten that far yet.

At first, it looks like Special Needs is going to be the same old sloppy spoofing. James - who wrote, directed, stars, and probably prepared the craft services - appears overly eager to roll out a combination of actual and 'artificial' human oddities and get us to laugh at what makes us nervous and uncomfortable. We expect the thwarting of convention, the tweaking of PC paradigms, and some good old fashioned vulgar funny business. It will all be in bad taste, but the current envelope pushing conceit of motion picture comedy readily supports such obvious offensiveness. Just ask the Farrelly Brothers. But believe it or not, this is not where James and his clever cast actually go. Instead, we are introduced to an engaging and intricate world of high maintenance histrionics, battling bravado, and just enough sideshow shock value to transcend the potentially tacky. Special Needs does employ the services of several handi-capable individuals, and all of them single-handedly steal the show. During an open audition for potential participants, we are introduced to a paranoid schizophrenic lounge singer, a determined deaf actor, a genial blind man, a wheelchair bond vixen and a no bullshit dwarf. Initially, they remain on the fringes. But once the callbacks come, James gives each individual their three dimensional setpiece moment to shine.

The clear breakout star here is someone called Killer P. A bad ass gansta rapper with cerebral palsy, he uses an aggressive thug life stance to shelter criticism over his obvious physical limitations. The result is a foul mouthed masterwork, a tripwire Tupac locked in an equally potent personal fortress. He's a classic character (or a great actual find) and almost instantly demands a solo feature all his own. Every moment he's on screen is worth savoring and repeating. He's gutbustingly great. He also illustrates part of Special Needs' motion picture mystery. If he was discovered by James and brought to the project, then this filmmaker has a clear eye for flawless idiosyncratic talent. On the other hand, if he's merely a handicapped actor putting on a front, then James is a genius for creating such a character, and P (real name, Keith Jones) is equally brilliant at bringing him to life. For this one element alone, Special Needs deserves unlimited praise. But there is more to what's going on here than outlandish personalities and a sly spoof of reality TV. In fact, it's safe to say that this film really isn't 'about' a potential series centering on the handicapped. Instead, it's about the individuals involved, from Piece's high-strung hubris to Laura Wilcox's self loathing meanness.

Yet none of this touches on what really makes Special Needs shine - its brave sense of humor. Allowing the handicapped actors onscreen to hold their own, to be both the brunt and providers of many of the jokes, keeps the comedy fresh and honorable. Even when Killer P is hit with the N-word, his hilarious reactions take the sting out of the sentiment. In fact, that's this film's major motion picture contribution. In recent years, off balance disasters like The Ringer have tried to temper the mentally and physically challenged with something akin to soiled saintliness. Sure, they're crude and rude, but they also have a built-in buttress against such standard human behavior that gives them a moralistic pass. Here, James simply let's them be people, and it's the everyday depiction that makes this movie so clever. By being both mired and motivated, capable and curtailed, what could easily become symbols instead turn into substantive comic characters. That James leaves the caricaturizing to the rest of the supposedly normal individuals at the center of the story makes Special Needs something extraordinary indeed. It will definitely make a considered appearance come end of the year awards/acknowledgment time.

Final Thoughts:
Special Needs is a certified cinematic homerun, an instant candidate for independent comedy of the year and another terrific title in Troma's growing collection of outsider gems. It easily earns a Highly Recommended rating. Those expecting a mean-spirited marginalizing of the disabled will be greatly disappointed, while others wanting the mindless purveyors of reality rot to really get theirs will be doubled over in sidesplitting delight. That he managed to salvage something that could have been a disaster is not Isaak James' greatest accomplishment here. No, the real revelation is his ability to thwart convention while carefully walking across all the formulaic necessities mandated to make a clever motion picture. Along with proving yet again that mainstream moviemakers have completely forgotten how to handle humor, Special Needs argues that the future of film lies somewhere beyond the fringe. Any cinephile who visits there will be wonderfully rewarded.

It's England on the brink of WWII, and on an isolated estate young Briony (Saoirse Ronan) is nursing a crush on the maid's son, Robbie (James McAvoy). A literate, inventive pre-teen, Briony is flattened when she discovers Robbie is attracted to her older sister, Cecilia (Keira Knightley), a stately woman who returns the affection tenfold. With her heart broken, Briony bears false witness against Robbie during an unusual sexual situation, punishing the young man to prison and soon the front lines of the war. Years later, Briony, now a nurse (played by Romola Garai), finds the burden of guilt overwhelming and seeks out the separated lovers to make amends.

In 2005's "Pride and Prejudice," director Wright injected an exhilarating verve back into the dead zone of British costume dramas. It was a divine affair, marked by a fascination with nature and Wright's ability to challenge the material past its corset-tight demands. "Atonement" is an even stronger picture, with Wright demonstrating the confidence of a seasoned pro, shuffling through this twisted tale of deception and anguish with tip-top timing and shattering displays of directorial ingenuity.

Where "Pride" was a Vaseline-smeared romantic fable, "Atonement" is a dirge for love. Through the application of constantly rotating POVs and disorientating time-jumps, Wright captures the story from different angles, presenting the viewer the blossoming romance between Robbie and Cecelia; at the same time, focusing on the pursed-lip, prepubescent rage of Briony (she's Patty McCormack with a cutthroat accent) as she fails to contain herself when the opportunity for Robbie's banishment arrives. There's little in the way of tenderness here; "Atonement" is directed more toward a procedural structure, detonating a dramatic bomb and counting all the casualties.

Using Kubrickian camera constructs, "Atonement" is a far more stunningly crafted film than "Pride." It's certainly chillier as well, playing with ideas of icy visual symmetry, nearly reaching exhilarating rock opera proportions. Since the story is simple in terms of character arcs, Wright spends enormous amounts of time dreaming up a rich visual scheme for the film, eventually stumbling into bravura one-take experimentations. One standout captures the massive evacuation of Dunkirk in a five-minute single shot that snipers the film's energy, but nonetheless remains a searing portrait of drunken war-time insanity, sharply echoing the mental deterioration of Robbie as his hopes for safe passage from combat are quickly ripped from his hands through a crushing display of disarray and madness.

Once the elder Briony steps back into the picture, "Atonement" slides comfortably into dreamy passages, addressing her guilt and desire to mend bridges with Cecilia and Robbie. This, of course, is punctuated with a sucker punch of a conclusion that rattles the senses. It's the dollop of heartache on top of a luxurious cinematic cake, furthering Wright's position as one of the more exciting young filmmakers out there today.

Fiona Gordon plays a sort of distaff version of the Richard Dreyfuss character in Encounters, who, after having gotten herself locked in a walk-in freezer at work overnight, develops a somewhat unhealthy obsession with cold and an iceberg she has envisioned. She doesn't sculpt anything in mashed potatoes, thankfully, but she does make icebergs with various household items like sheets, finally graduating to drawing a picture and enlisting the aid of a sailor (piloting a little skiff suitably named Le Titanique) to help her find the giant ice cube of her dreams.

This may sound slight, and it admittedly is. It is filmed and performed with such loving care, however, and with so many wonderfully outrageous moments of physical comedy, that its lightness and lack of "message" are two of its central winning attributes, not liabilities. Featuring langorous Tati-inspired shots of several unedited minutes punctuated by unexpected pratfalls or other non-verbal punchlines, the film rarely wavers from its sweet (sometimes bittersweet) course.

Written and directed by its three stars, Dominique Abel, Bruno Romy and Gordon, the film is a seamless interweaving of buffoonery and heart, a very rare combination that serves to point out the relative paucity of ideas coming from a lot of American comedies these days.

Parental Warning: There are two brief shots of fairly gratuitous full frontal nudity (the male version has a very funny punchline, the female, none).

Final Thoughts: If you are a fan of French farce, particularly of the Tati Hulot variety, you are going to love this film. Beyond that core group, though, for anyone tired of the crass joke every two minute, leering tone of so many current American comedies, this simple and effective virtual mime performance is a non pareil experience to treasure. I predict this film is going to have a very large cult audience that will only grow over time.

As much about the crippling obsession that gripped those searching for the Zodiac killer that terrorized Southern California in the late Sixties and much of the Seventies as it is gruesome sequences of stylized terror, Fincher's film defies the conditioning foisted upon American audiences who flock to crime dramas (whether they be films or TV series) that promise pat resolutions and clearly defined good and evil. Zodiac disturbs and fascinates because it does not wrap up cleanly - there is no triumphant climax where our shades-of-grey heroes capture the ruthless murderer. The investigation, which spanned decades, never produced anything other than very suggestive evidence that a particular individual committed the brutal Zodiac killings; it remains an absorbing, harrowing and deeply unsettling tale of true crime.

Based on the novel by former San Francisco Chronicle cartoonist Robert Graysmith (played by Jake Gyllenhaal), Zodiac traces the investigation, as conducted by Detectives Dave Toschi (an astonishing Mark Ruffalo) and Bill Armstrong (Anthony Edwards). False hope and dead-end leads pile up as the two men struggle to connect the dots and end the Zodiac's surreal reign of terror. Graysmith, at first on the periphery of the proceedings, finds himself allied with fellow Chronicle writer Paul Avery (Robert Downey Jr.) in an effort to piece together the sprawling puzzle. Years slip away and while the police and Graysmith come tantalizingly close to pinning the crimes on suspect Arthur Leigh Allen (John Carroll Lynch), the men can never deliver any damning evidence that unequivocally proves Allen's guilt.

Fincher, working from a dense, nimble James Vanderbilt screenplay (reportedly, Fincher, Vanderbilt and producer Brad Fischer spent nearly two years conducting an investigation of their own - essentially dusting off the case files and checking the facts all over again), manages to make all of the procedural elements feel vital and engaging. What could've been a very dull, dry and lifeless affair (think "Law & Order") is compelling and, at times, mesmerizing; it doesn't hurt that Fincher's knack for visually stimulating films is in full effect, although to his credit, the director doesn't overplay his hand. There are a few truly stunning sequences, but the flashy camerawork that marred Panic Room, for example, is scarce here. Ultimately, Zodiac is a satisfyingly frustrating experience, a film that defies convention and plays out with the messy urgency of real life. Murderers go free, questions go unanswered and closure fails to materialize - all bitter truths and ones that bubble just beneath the surface of this masterful work of art.

The Plot: For the residents of this secluded Northern New Jersey suburb, the local Bullion Family is quite notorious. Led by the overbearing patriarch Papa Elvis, and featuring stunted brothers Butternut and Hubcap, snotty cousin Sno Cakes, and brutish big sister Beefteena, this craven clan lives a scandal filled existence filled with rumors of murder and inferences of incest. Of course, the addled adult children don't mind. They're too busy brutalizing each other and playing unnatural sex games to care. But local law enforcement does worry, and they believe the brood is responsible for the disappearance of several citizens over the years. When Sheriff Brogan investigates, he learns the awful truth - as does anyone who gets in the Bullions' way. Mess with this merry band of maniacs and it's a knife to the throat, a hatchet to the head, and a trip the The Blood Shed - and no one has ever lived to tell about what happens there.

The Film: Imagine if David Lynch and Rob Zombie had a baby, gave said malformed infant to John Waters to wet nurse, and on weekends, all three allowed Kenneth Anger and the Kuchar Brothers to come over and babysit. With Tobe Hooper and Jack Hill as the godparents and Edith Massey as thrift store style consultant, the results would begin to resemble something similar to the wonderfully weird brain damaged b-movie The Blood Shed. The conceptual offspring of couture auteur Alan Rowe Kelly, this tasty take on the entire Texas Chainmail Massacre trip is one of the year's best unknown independent movies. Striking an intriguing balance between scares, surrealism, and satire, this eager exploitation experiment is a joy to behold. It takes all the archetypal elements of a Deliverance level hillbilly hoedown, macerates it in a cinematic concoction of kitsch, creeps, and dollar store perfume and paints a perverted patina over every last piece of lunatic fringe. The result is a delirious, dangerous example of old school schlock infused with a post-modern knowledge of the genre's long term effectiveness. It's the cinematic equivalent of swallowing a few tabs of Jean Nate soaked acid and tripping the blight fantastic.

At the center of this freak show firestorm is writer/director/actor/muse Kelly. Braving ridicule and his/her typical model-esque appearance, the star gained 50 lbs to play the oppressive Beefteena, and the transformation is frightening. Like the Bad Seed blown up with an air hose, or Evil Ethel regressed to an arrested adolescence, this elephantine entity with the mentality of a peanut is one deranged dame. Playing with her pet road kill and taunting the neighbors with a combination of courtesy and cruelty, she makes an intriguing center to this story. She's the least cartoonish of the characters, and offers the most lingering bang for your slice and dice buck. While the other actors do an excellent job with the material - including Terry West as Papa, Susan Adriensen as Sno Cakes, Mike Lane as Hubcap, and Joshua Nelson as Butternut - this is a true tour de force for Kelly. He balances the gore and the goofiness with expertise, and there's never a time when we feel overpowered by an obvious camp conceit. Still, it's not an entirely flawless ideal. Kelly does rely a little too much on the Coen Brothers School of Screaming to end his movie. The casts' nonstop screeching during the last ten minutes is enough to give hearing impaired and aurally sensitive viewers auditory nightmares for weeks. It remains, however, a minor complaint in what is, otherwise, an intriguing off the wall effort.

Even better, The Blood Shed avoids the standard clichés we've come to expect from the entire wicked family formula. Sure, it may steal just a skoosh from 1988's American Gothic (which also contained a heifer sized character guiding its batsh*t brood storyline) and frequently gives itself over to glamour fits of outrageous pointlessness, this is still one helluva horror comedy ride. It's riotously inventive, strangely satisfying, and completely out of its gourd. It's also a flawless illustration of how using one's brains - instead of buckets of blood - can lead to true cinematic greatness. This won't be everyone's style or sensibility, especially since Kelly never once lets on that there may be a man underneath all those baby doll dresses and grue-spattered crinoline. And anyone wanting more gore for their good time will probably wonder where the funk's at. Such criticisms really don't matter, however. The Blood Shed is a heaping helping of quirk-filled fabulousness, a movie with a surprise around every corner, and a corpse in every closet. From the oddball chase between the sheriff and the two Bullion boys (each one dressed in a different animal costume), to the hilarious photo shoot where Beefteena dreams of being America's Next Top Model, this is memorable, manic stuff. It doesn't deserve to be scoffed it. Indeed, this is the kind of film that needs to be celebrated - and savored.

Final Thoughts: One of the pleasures in this otherwise oppressive practice of film criticism is finding something that strives to differentiate itself from the rest of the pack. Whether it's the psychedelic spaghetti western wackiness of The Legend of God's Gun to the mock doc slasher stylings of Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon, a single undiscovered gem can make slogging through hundreds of amateur efforts all the more rewarding. [This movie] is above reproach. Easily earning a Highly Recommended rating, The Blood Shed is the kind of labor of love that reinvigorates your faith in underground creativity. Hats (and heads) off to Alan Rowe Kelly for defying expectations to produce something that's legitimately unique and massively entertaining. This is one family outing that retains its delightful dysfunction all the way through.

Reviewer's Bias*
Loves: David Fincher, serial killer stories
Likes: Robert Downey Jr., police procedural
Dislikes: Chloe Sevigny, Double dips
Hates: Unsolved crimes

The Movie
Zodiac kind of sneaked up on me, as I hadn't heard much buzz about it, and I certainly hadn't heard that it was David Fincher's return to the box office, following the stylish thriller Panic Room. As a big fan of Fincher's work, especially his visual style, and a fan of movies and books about serial killers, I was excited to see what Fincher would do with the story of the Zodiac. What I eventually saw wasn't at all what I expected, but was a welcome surprise from a director who obviously doesn't want to be pigeon-holed as an MTV-generation editing junkie, after establishing himself as the king of the MTV-generation editing junkies with his previous films.

Using political cartoonist/investigator Robert Graysmith's books on the Zodiac killings as the foundation for the story, the film introduces the cryptic killer that terrorized California for years, but doesn't let you get close to him, using shadows and physical distance to maintain a separation, with the exception of the actually slayings, with are so upclose it's upsetting. It's a distinct difference from the intimacy the audience shared with John Doe in Se7en, and appropriate for an unsolved crime wave. The film sticks to the truth, as reported by Graysmith, and doesn't create a heroic plot that in reality didn't occur. The Zodiac of the film is just as much a mystery as the Zodiac of history.

As a result of the lack of connection with the killer, the film gets to know his hunters well, including Graysmith (Jake Gyllenhaal), reporter Paul Avery (Robert Downey Jr.) and inspector David Toschi (Mark Ruffalo.) Each man invests a great deal into discovering who the Zodiac is, way more than anyone should have, considering the progression of the case. Working together, but mainly on their own, they spend years chasing down every lead, and every time they seem to get close, they realize how far away they are. The effect the case has on their professional and private lives takes up the bulk of the second half of the movie, but it's no less intriguing than the killings in the beginning. The nitty-gritty of the investigation is as engrossing as the graphically depicted murders, with one scene, in which Graysmith simply visits a possible informant (played to horrifying perfection by Charles Fleischer) being one of the most frightening in the entire film.

Though Gyllenhaal is the star of the show, and he does well as the ultimate boy scout, showing extreme enthusiasm for bringing the killer to justice, no one is as fantastic in this film as Downey, who is perfect as a drunken lout of a reporter, the epitome of the crime beat writer who does his work on the streets and in the gutter. The energy he brings to the film with his performance is invaluable, and he stands as a important contrast to Gyllenhaal's naive rookie. On the other end of the spectrum is Ruffalo, who plays his cop character with restraint and slow-burn intensity that makes his ongoing travails more personal and relateable. He's the most down-to-earth of the three, looking simply to do his duty and frustrated by an inability to finish the job. Between the three men, there's a complete portrait of obsession, which is the real story here.

Instead of taking the legendary tale of cat and mouse and applying his bag of visual tricks to it, Fincher created one of his most straightforward films, using his gift for detail to take audiences back to the days of the killings, going so far as to show the studio logos before the film in the style of the time. While the film is as stylish as Fincher's previous efforts, it's an understated style, and doesn't take away from what is his first period piece, injecting you directly into that time, in much the same way Se7en and Fight Club took you into those worlds. It's unlikely a film full of quick cuts and stunning computer imagery would have made sense in the analog '60s, and Fincher wisely realized that, focusing more on perfect compositions and atmospheric settings to further his art. There are several frames in Zodiac that could be hung next to Hopper's Nighthawks without any art enthusiast complaining.

The length of the film is one of the few possible negatives to be found in Zodiac, but it's not that it's an overdone mess. The story is simply too sprawling and too complex to be compacted into a clean 90 minutes. The sheer size of the film, and the many plot points and storylines may turn a few people off from the movie, and the fact that a resolution is impossible due to the case's unsolved nature doesn't help either. The film does attempt to point a finger at a few suspects, using the books' theories, and there's a bit of "closure" in the form of a coda, but overall, the film is about the journey, not the destination, much like it's not about the crimes but the investigation, and it's not about Fincher's signature style, but his most accomplished direction.

The Bottom Line
Zodiac shares more in common with The Game than any of the other films in Fincher's filmography, and is easily his most complete film, from beginning to end, thanks to a focus on storytelling instead of visual acrobatics. Fincher's finest directing work, an enthralling story and an outstanding cast make what could have been an overlong exercise in indulgent filmmaking into one of the best serial killer films ever.

Hellboy tell the story of a demon brought to earth in the 1940's via a failed Nazi occult experiment. Hellboy (Ron Perlman) is found by Professor Trevor Bruttenholm (John Hurt), and raised as a warrior for good. He is, effectively, a monster who fights monsters. He's aided by Abe Sapien (Doug Jones), an amphibious telepath, and Liz Sherman (Selma Blair), who has pyrokinetic abilities. The film shows us these crazy characters through the eyes of new recruit John Meyers (Rupert Evans). He arrives just in time for the reappearance of the man who brought Hellboy into this dimension, who just happens to be Rasputin (yes, the famous Russian Rasputin, here played by Karl Roden). Rasputin is an agent working on behalf of the Ogdru Jahad, a Lovecraftian-collection of tentacled gods who can bring about hell on Earth, if only Rasputin can put all the right pieces in place. But of course, Hellboy and the B.P.R.D. (Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense) have something to say about that.

I've been a big fan of the Hellboy comic for years. Mignola's comic is a dense amalgamation of old myths, new mythology, Lovecraftian creatures, and pulp stories. The result is a moody, thrilling series with humor interjected in just the right places. This combination had a big effect of Guillermo Del Toro, who has a voracious artistic appetite. So when Del Toro became the director of the film, it was a match made in heaven. Watching the special features, it becomes clear that the two were partners throughout the entire production, which means the film should be a comic fan's wet dream. And in my case, it is!

Guillermo Del Toro has recently got a lot of press for Pan's Labyrinth, which despite having so many elements familiar to Del Toro fans, was treated like a breakthrough work. But in my mind, Del Toro's been breaking through cinematic dullness since his very first feature, Cronos. Even his more populist works, such as Mimic or Blade II, showed a man of considerable talent behind the camera. And his more lauded works, including The Devil's Backbone and Pan's Labyrinth, have given him an air of respectability with critics. Personally, I've enjoyed every single one of his films, and he's one of my favorite modern filmmakers. He's also the perfect man to make Hellboy, due to his sense of style and love for the source material. He understands what made the comics great, and exactly how to translate those factors to the screen, while making the production feel like more than just a straight copy.

And as much as Del Toro brought to the picture, it never would have worked without Ron Perlman. The two worked together on Cronos so they already had a solid working relationship. On top of that, Perlman has a lot of experience working through prosthetics (remember the TV series Beauty and the Beast? He played the Beast). His performance shines right through the makeup. But most of all, he has the right demeanor for Hellboy. That kind of, "been there, done that" blase attitude that belies how much he actually cares about those he considers to be his family. And he's so evocative. When Perlman says, "Oh, crap!" it means more than when most actors deliver whole monologues.

Although Ron Perlman is the essential element, that does not mean the rest of the cast is simply window-dressing. Veteran actor John Hurt plays Hellboy's surrogate father Professor Bruttenholm (pronounced "Broom"). Hurt's pedigree elevates the film beyond being yet another comic book adaptation. Rupert Evans as Meyers provides the audience with a human connection to all the craziness that goes on throughout the movie. Selma Blair is her normal laconic self, but she works. Jeffrey Tambor is absolutely hilarious as the Bureau chief. And Doug Jones plays Abe Sapien to perfection. He looks a lot less human than Hellboy, so that's no easy feat. Unfortunately, he doesn't provide the voice of Abe. That role was given to David Hyde Pierce. And while I love Pierce, hearing Jones do the voice of Abe in Hellboy Animated: Sword of Storms makes me eager to see him give a full performance in the upcoming Hellboy 2: The Golden Army.

Hellboy stands as one of the best, and one of the most faithful comic book adaptations to date. Everything about it works, from the cast to the crew to the set and costume designs. It's like Mignola's drawings have jumped off the page. But at the same time, Guillermo Del Toro infuses the flick with his special brand of Mexican mayhem. I've seen the film countless times now, and I have no doubt I will see it countless more. It's just so much fun.

The Conclusion: Hellboy is just plain badass. Guillermo Del Toro melded his cinematic style with Mike Mignola's unique mythology to create a wholly enjoyable thrill ride. Ron Perlman IS Hellboy, and the rest of the cast support him ably. Highly Recommended.

The Drillons have been married for 25 years, and their relationship has settled into comfortable, passionless familiarity. Their time together, at the start of the film, is characterized by long happy silences and relaxed gestures. In the midst of one of these sequences, Jean simply vanishes, leaving Marie disoriented and lost as her world somersaults into confusion. She handles the horror by withdrawing into severe denial, assuring her friends—with a smile that's just slightly cracking at its edge—that Jean is indeed alive and well, that the disappearance never occurred.

Even so, Jean's fate invades every aspect of the movie, and while we observe Marie's quiet hysterics, we're consumed right along with her by the emptiness of his exit. Inevitably, the truth begins to creep up on poor Marie, as her friends become more bold in confronting her and her mind starts playing tricks on her. Rampling portrays this psychological turmoil flawlessly, in an amazingly effective performance that's quite moving. A screen veteran, Rampling makes a tremendous comeback in this role, delivering a many-faceted performance that earned her a Best Actress nomination at the European Film Awards.

The last shot of Under the Sand is brilliant in its symbolic imagery and composition, and yet I couldn't help but feel some disappointment as I watched it. Just as the film seems ready to end on a note of healing and hope, it falls back into despair. I've never been one to reject a downbeat ending, but this one seemed a cheap turnabout.

WHAT'S LEFT TO SAY?
Under the Sand's tragic tale of denial is held together expertly by a moving performance from Charlotte Rampling. Although the film's center provides a bit of a lull, and the ending seems unnecessarily bleak, this is a fine film worthy of repeat viewings.

Pedro Almodovar (b. 1949) first began finding an American audience for his films in the mid- to late-1980s, when Cinevista began releasing early efforts like Labyrinth of Passion (Laberinto de pasiones, 1982), Dark Habits (Entre tinieblas, 1983), and What Have I Done to Deserve This? (Que he hecho yo para merecer esto?!!, 1984) to the art house circuit. Almost simultaneously, Orion snapped up the U.S. rights to Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown (Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios , 1988) and it proved to be a blockbuster by art house standards; the $700,000 production grossed ten times that in the American market alone. Since then he's become the best-known Spanish filmmaker since Luis Bunuel and easily the most successful.

Almodovar's core audience is gay men and socially progressive straight women, and his films are frequently quite explicit (but never pornographic), even though, contrary to his public image, some films like Live Flesh focus on straight men or women. (The set is being advertised on Amazon with an "R" rating, but includes NC-17 versions of Law of Desire, Matador, and Bad Education.) The director, himself out of the closet - "Yes, I am a gay man, but I love breasts," he says - tends to make deeply personal, often autobiographical films which grapple not only with issues of sexuality - gay, straight, and everything in between - but also drug use and addiction, issues of faith and Catholicism, Spanish politics and history, including that county's last years under Franco.

These facets of Almodovar's work, especially their frank, funny and adult sexual explicitness, will instantly turn off some. That's their loss. Americans tend to be prudish and puritanical about sexual matters, and Almodovar's in-your-face provocateuring is often shocking if simultaneously hilarious and insightful. But it's exactly that, Almodovar's ability to balance his screenplays about gays, transsexuals, drug addicts, etc., that are fundamentally honest yet not judgmental that makes his films so consistently entertaining and engrossing. Though most of his movies resemble postmodern re-workings of the kind of themes stylistic concerns that melodrama master Douglas Sirk applied to his movies back in the 1950s, they successfully dance a fine line between tragedy and high camp. In the otherwise quite serious Talk to Me, for instance, there's an outrageous, shocking, hilarious, and oddly touching fantasy sequence, suggested by The Incredible Shrinking Man, explicitly expressing a kind of ultimate form of love-making, with its shrunken man literally entering his lover's vagina to satisfy their sexual wants. Despite this Almodovar, to paraphrase critic Philip French, makes not art house movies for a niche market, but rather mainstream movies that happen to be populated by gay men and drug abusers.

MATADOR
Then again, Matador tested audiences with its shocking opening, with finds a man jerking off while watching on video a particularly violent murder from Mario Bava's Blood and Black Lace. The film is like a grave John Waters film en Espanol, following a celebrity bullfighter, Diego Montes (Nacho Martinez), who can't quite cope with the early retirement imposed upon him after he's gored in the ring. Unable to perpetuate his dark fix - the thrill of the kill - he takes to killing women after making love to them. He meets his match in attorney Maria (Assumpta Serna), who secretly is fascinated by him and consumed by similar passions.

The film explores, often with great jet-black wit, the darker, primal side of human sexuality. If Waters' movies question and sometimes celebrate the boundaries of depravity, Almodovar, unlocks and acknowledges, sometimes through delirious excess, humankind's darkest, most taboo secrets.

Audiences new to Almodovar might want to watch this film last, even though it comes first chronologically in this set. This and Law of Desire are probably his least accessible to mainstream moviegoers unprepared for such cinematic boldness. They'll also likely be surprised to find Antonio Banderas, then just 26, in a key role as Diego's hot-headed student.

LAW OF DESIRE
In Law of Desire (La Ley del deseo), Almodovar explores the complex sexual relationships of two siblings: Pablo (Eusebio Poncela), a promiscuous, coke-snorting gay filmmaker; and Tina (Carmen Maura), his onetime brother-turned-sister, a well-known transsexual actress. Stuck in a one-way relationship with Juan (Miguel Molina), who does not love him, Pablo begins an affair with Antonio (Antonio Banderas), who's initially uncertain about his bisexuality, but soon becomes obsessed with his new lover.

Almodovar had cast Maura in lesser roles going back to 1983's Dark Habits (Entre tinieblas), but in Law of Desire he found his muse for that first big creative flowering, just as Banderas came to symbolize the iconic Almodovarian leading man. Both are excellent and utterly convincing, as is Poncela, whose understated, less flashy work is easy to undervalue.

Law of Desire is essentially an old-fashioned Hollywood melodrama (complete with one character stricken with amnesia) but instead of Jane Wyman or Joan Crawford, its principals are gay men and a transsexual. With Tina's daughter (which Tina fathered while still a man) especially, the film also deconstructs familial conventions; Pablo and Tina may snort coke in back rooms and talk frankly about junkies in her presence, but Almodovar argues that Tina is a loving, basically responsible parent nonetheless. As the director says, "The characters in my films are assassins, rapists and so on, but I don't treat them as criminals, I talk about their humanity."

WOMEN ON THE VERGE OF A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN
Sort of like How to Marry a Millionaire gone berserk (a film later referenced in All About My Mother), or maybe like an insane asylum where all the patients believed they're Doris Day, Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown (original title: Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios) is Almodovar at his most visually stylish, from its wonderful '50s title design to its deliberately studio-bound sets.

When married Ivan (Fernando Guillen) calls off his affair with voice-dubbing actress Pepa (Carman Maura), she not only goes off the deep end, but has to contend with Ivan's jealous, gun-toting wife (Julieta Serrano) and a visit from hapless Candela, in trouble with the law after falling for a Shiite terrorist. And so on.

Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown is the lightest and perhaps funniest film in the set, suggestive of pink cake frosting with candied sprinkles scattered on top. The picture is a riot of primary colors, and along with other Almodovar films from the period seems to have accelerated if not directly inspired the trend that quickly followed toward hip, retro furniture and fashions. Maura gives a wonderful, career-defining performance, and Banderas is back in a part that shows off a versatility rarely tapped once the actor moved to Hollywood.

THE FLOWER OF MY SECRET
Jumping ahead seven years to Almodovar's next feature, The Flower of My Secret (La Flor de mi secreto), one can see a great maturation in the filmmaker's screenplays, which are more direct and uncluttered, with the occasional self-indulgence apparent in the films he made in-between giving way to more challenging themes with most of the fat trimmed away. Some might argue that Almodovar began repeating himself, with Bad Education especially similar to his earlier Law of Desire, but in reality the director is clearly pushing himself further in these more ambitious, later films, which exude a confidence without the sometimes pretentious need to impress.

Instead, these pictures are consistently surprising in the way Almodovar structures his screenplays (thankfully, he seems never to have heard of Syd Field) which, despite their constant references to Sirk, All About Eve, film noir, "Moon River," A Streetcar Named Desire, Johnny Guitar, etc., keep the viewer off-balance. Talk to Her avoids structural cliches in its use of flashbacks, while All About My Mother establishes a point-of-view that Almodovar shakes up violently and unexpectedly. Live Flesh hinges on coincidences and irony familiar to fans of film noir but which, in this context, come off as surprising. And Bad Education offers a complex tapestry of stories and characters-within-stories, but perilously avoids the disastrous results (e.g., Passage to Marseille) that usually befall screenwriters trying to juggle so many balls in the air at once.

In The Flower of My Secret, a lesser if well-made and beautifully acted Almodovar, Marisa Parades shines as a troubled, anonymous author of hugely popular, trashy romantic fiction (which she writes under a pseudonym) whose happy endings sharply contrast her unfulfilling marriage with a self-involved soldier (Imanol Aris) stationed in Serbia.

LIVE FLESH
In Live Flesh (Carne tremula), Victor (Liberto Rabal) the pushy, 20-year-old son of a prostitute (Penelope Cruz, featured in the funny, sweet prologue, where her character gives birth aboard a city bus) wants a "date" with junkie hooker Elena (Francesca Neri). They get into an argument in her apartment, which two police officers, David (Javier Bardem) and Sancho (Jose Sancho) misinterpret as an attempted rape. Sancho, already drunk and an abusive husband obsessed with his wife's apparent infidelity, is ready to gun down Victor on the spot. A struggle ensues, and David is shot and paralyzed from the waist down.

Victor goes to prison, while in irony typical of Almodovar, David and Elena (now clean and sober) eventually marry, and he becomes a popular celebrity, the star player on a handicapped basketball team. Victor, who blames David for his misfortune, becomes consumed with jealously toward the apparently happy couple, and after a chance encounter begins stalking Elena while commencing an affair with an older, unhappy woman, Clara (Angela Molina).

Live Flesh exemplifies Almodovar's fascination with the seemingly perverse lawlessness of fate and irony, in a film harkening back to classic film noir - only this, being an Almodovar movie, is shot in bright, primary colors. If Rabal lacks Antonio Banderas's charisma, the other performances are all quite good, especially Molina (of Bunuel's That Obscure Object of Desire), in tragic role that recalls Anne Bancroft's Mrs. Robinson in The Graduate. (Appropriately enough, Molina herself has recently played the part in a Spanish stage production.)

ALL ABOUT MY MOTHER
All About My Mother ( Todo sobre mi madre ) is dedicated "To Bette Davis, Gena Rowlands, Romy Schneider...To all actresses who have played actresses, to all women who act, to men who act and become women, to all people who want to become mothers. To my mother" And indeed that's just what it is - a moving, remarkable tribute to mothers and actresses, to motherhood and gender, from Manuela (Cecilia Roth), who channels the once inconsolable grief she bears for her dead son, killed in an accident, to mothering of other sorts: from acting as the personal assistant to a middle-aged lesbian actress (Marisa Paredes), to caring for a pregnant, HIV-positive nun (Penelope Cruz, in an early, star-making role).

Men are incidental in this Oscar-winning portrait (it won the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film) of the indomitable inner strength and sisterhood of these deeply troubled women, whom Almodovar declares are role-playing both literally and figuratively, as actresses on stage, and as symbolized by Manuela's friend Agrado, a sassy transsexual prostitute (Antonia San Juan) and Lola (Toni Canto), Agrado's transgendered ex-roommate who fathered both Manuela's and the nun's child. As Agrado puts it, "You are more authentic the more you resemble what you've dreamed of being."

TALK TO HER
Talk to Her (Hable con ella), by contrast, is the study of two (more or less) straight men caring for utterly helpless women and thus, in one sense, grapple with innate or acquired maternalism. Macho Marco (Dario Grandinetti) is a travel writer whose bullfighter lover, Lydia (Rosario Flores), lays apparently brain dead in a coma after being gored in the ring. At the clinic where Lydia is cared for, Marco meets Benigno (Javier Camara), an effeminate male nurse hired by a wealthy psychiatrist to provide constant care for his comatose daughter, Alicia (Leonor Watling), a once promising ballet student.

The two contrasting men form an unlikely friendship, with Marco drawn toward Benigno's dedication to his patient, his strange ability to carry on a relationship with her, and his refusal to lose hope that she might some day recover.

The men turn out to be selfless and selfish, devoted and exploitative of their charge's helplessness. In its second-half the film turns on a shocking act of undeniable love that challenges viewers in ways as uncomfortable as it is unlike anything attempted in a narrative feature. That Almodovar clearly sympathizes with the character if not his actions epitomizes the director's boundless humanism.

As always, the performances are just great. Grandinetti and Camara are superb, and Geraldine Chaplin, speaking fluent Spanish, has a nice supporting part and is well-cast as Alicia's ballet teacher.

BAD EDUCATION
The set concludes with what arguably is Almodovar's best film to date and certainly his most personal and autobiographical, Bad Education (La Mala educacion), a project the director-screenwriter spent 10 years developing. In it acclaimed director Enrique (Fele Martinez) is reunited with Juan (Gael Garcia Bernal), who shows up at his office looking for work as an actor on Enrique's next film, bringing with him a semi-autobiographical story about their relationship - when the two were young boys at a Catholic school - that he hopes Enrique will adapt.

In the story, 10-year-old Ignacio (Nacho Perez) is sexually abused by the school's principal, Father Manolo (Daniel Gimenez Cacho) and falls in love with fellow classmate Enrique (Alberto Ferreiro). Years later, Ignacio becomes Zahara, a drug-addicted transsexual who tries to blackmail the priest that had abused him.

Juan wants to play Zahara in the film version Enrique agrees to produce, but the young director dismisses Juan's ambitions while longing to resume their long-lost love affair. Bad Education is a complex tale mixing noir elements (which include one genuinely shocking plot twist) with a kind of summation of all of Almodovar's favorite themes: gender, role-playing, Catholicism and Spanish life under and after Franco, homosexuality, the blurring reality and illusion, memory and longing, obsession and fulfillment. Just what Almodovar is trying to impress upon his audiences is difficult to say; as Roger Ebert writes, "The movie is not an attack on sexually abusive priests, nor does it have a statement to make about homosexuality, which for Almodovar is no more of a topic than heterosexuality is for Clint Eastwood."

Video & Audio
The eight films in the collection consist of reissues of older transfers, remastered editions, and a couple of titles new to Region 1 DVD. All look and sound excellent, and all are 16:9 enhanced. Matador, Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown and The Flower of My Secret are presented at 1.77:1, with Matador presumably shot for 1.66:1 projection and looking a bit tight in some of its compositions, though only slightly so. (As the oldest film its original film elements are in the roughest shape, but the film still looks stupendous compared with its original VHS release from 1986.) Law of Desire is presented in true 1.85:1, not reframed for 1.77:1 widescreen TVs, as thin black bars are visible at the top and bottom of the frame. The remaining films were all shot in Panavision, and Almodovar and his cinematographer use the 'scope frame extremely well; panning and scanning would ruin their careful compositions. Bad Education's story-within-the-story is framed for 1.85:1 while the rest of the picture is 'scope. The transfer opts for bringing in black bars on the sides, creating a windowboxing effect, rather than enlarge the image to fit widescreen TVs, and this is indeed the best way to have gone.

Matador and Law of Desire are new to DVD, while Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown and All About My Mother have been remastered. The Flower of My Secret, Live Flesh, Talk to Her and Bad Education are identical to earlier DVD releases from 2005, 2001, 2003, and 2005, respectively.

Each film offers optional subtitles in English and French except for Bad Education (English subtitles only) and Live Flesh (which has Spanish subtitles, as well as English and French). Talk to Her also includes an alternate French audio track. Almodovar's movies abound with music and song, the lyrics of which are sometimes translated, sometimes not. The stereo mixes, from The Flower of My Secret onward, are excellent.

Extra Features
Supplements are plentiful if erratic and flawed. Matador, Law of Desire, Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown (1988), and All About My Mother (1999) are bare bones, while the other films have extras carried over from their original releases.

The Flower of My Secret includes a 20-minute Making Of documentary in 4:3 format, along with trailers (none are enhanced) for that film, All About My Mother, and Talk to Her.

Live Flesh includes only a trailer, also 4:3 letterboxed, while Talk to Her offers an audio commentary by Almodovar who's joined by Geraldine Chaplin. Both speak Spanish and the commentary is supported by yellow English subtitles.

Bad Education offers the most in the way of extras, with an audio commentary by Almodovar (solo this time, again in Spanish), four-and-a-half minutes of (two) deleted scenes in 16:9 format, a photo gallery of myriad artwork, and two featurettes. The first of these, Red Carpet Footage from [the] AFI Film Festival is quite good, mixing scenes from the film with interviews with Almodovar and cast members at a screening at the Cinerama Dome in Hollywood. A Making of 'Bad Education' is rather absurd; it's nothing more than a montage of behind-the-scenes footage running less than two minutes.

The boxed set's ninth disc consists of three sometimes redundant featurettes made by the same company in the same style with the same interview subjects. Deconstructing Almodovar runs 52 minutes and picks apart the creative process, supplemented with film clips and interviews with an impressive number of collaborators (including Cruz and Maura); Directed by Almodovar (27 minutes) talks mainly to actors about their experiences working for the filmmaker, while Viva Pedro (25 minutes) is more biographical, told mainly by his brother-regular producer Agustin. Also included is an eight-minute preview of Almodovar's latest, Volver, and a 16:9 trailer for that film. Unfortunately, though the documentaries are all letterboxed, none are enhanced and subtitled in such a way viewers with widescreen TVs will be forced to watch them 4:3, resulting in some pretty tiny film clips.

Finally, the postcards are quite nice, with attractive reproductions of each film's original artwork.

Parting Thoughts
For movie lovers, Pedro Almodovar has become as much a treasure as the classic Hollywood movies he so constantly references, and each new "Un Film de Almodovar," the credit Almodovar precedes each movie with, has become a kind of beloved trademark, like Hitchcock's cameos or Saul Bass's title designs. Those who have avoided or simply never got around to picking up these titles before now can get them all at once, a

Though he hasn't necessarily made Pan's Labyrinth for children, writer/director Guillermo del Toro (Hellboy) definitely seems to have gone back to find that ancient well of inspiration. His original story is as dark and twisted, and thus just as magical, as the classic tales. He has made a scary and wondrous fantasy film seen through the eyes of a child, and it should by turns enchant and frighten any adult who sees it.

Pan's Labyrinth has more in common with del Toro's smaller budget ghost story The Devil's Backbone than it does his big effects Hollywood films. Shot entirely in Spanish, it takes place at a rural outpost at the tail end of the Spanish Civil War. Franco is in power, and his troops are stamping down the last of the resistance. Ofelia (Ivana Baquero) lost her father in the war, and her mother, Carmen (Ariadna Gil, Belle Epoque), has remarried a sadistic solider, Captain Vidal (Sergi López, Dirty Pretty Things). Carmen is pregnant with Vidal's child, and they are going to his isolated base camp so she can give birth near him. There, Vidal is tangling with a band of guerillas that is hiding in the mountains, and he's ruling the nearby village with an iron fist.

For Ofelia, a girl who loves old books with fantastic stories, her new home is a blessing and a curse. She is not fond of the man her mother wants her to call "father," but she is immediately intrigued by the old stone labyrinth in the forest behind Vidal's fort. Though the dutiful maid Mercedes (Maribel Verdú, Y tu mamá también) warns her not to go inside, Ofelia is lured their by a small fairy. There, she meets the faun Pan (Doug Jones, the body of Hellboy's fish man, Abe Sapien). He tells her that she is a long lost princess who has finally come to return to her kingdom. All she has to do is complete three magical tasks. He gives her a magic book whose blank pages will reveal her missions to her when she is alone.

Her tasks aren't simple, and they have real consequences when not done right--both in the magical realm and the real world. Naturally, when Ofelia sneaks off to battle a magic toad, she is going to get in trouble for disappearing, especially when she returns covered in mud and toad spit. The pregnancy is making Carmen sick, and so insubordination isn't going to be tolerated. Vidal is not a reasonable man, and he doesn't like when things get beyond his control. His outbursts when fighting the resistance get more and more violent, and he cares less about Carmen's health than he does the birth of his son. If she dies, that's just collateral damage, and woe to Ofelia if that happens.

del Toro gives his audience two different worlds in Pan's Labyrinth. First is the brutal backdrop of the Civil War. He doesn't shy away from the killing that keeps the wheels of battle turning, and there are many gruesome scenes that will make even the most iron-stomached gore junkies cringe. The second world is Ofelia's fantasy kingdom. The adults never see what the young girl is going through, and part of the experience of Pan's Labyrinth is questioning whether Ofelia is really witnessing magic or if these scenarios are just the escape hatch she goes through to get away from her cruel stepfather. Either way, her fantasies bite back. Pan almost plays as a doppelganger for Vidal when he loses his temper over the girl's mistakes. Survival on either side of the reality line also requires sacrifice, and Ofelia is going to learn some real lessons about what that means.

Regardless of which explanation you choose to believe, the spell of Pan's Labyrinth is irresistible. Guillermo del Toro has written a multi-layered tale that will scare you, delight you, and keep you precariously poised on the edge of your seat. You'll cringe, but you won't want to look away lest you miss a frame of his gorgeously crafted alternate dimension. For the two hours that Pan's Labyrinth runs, the director reminds adults of what it's like to believe so thoroughly in your own imagination that anything is possible, while also reminding us that real heroism is fraught with human error and bought at a real price. Like the titular labyrinth, any adventure has a lot of twists and turns on its way to fulfillment. Sometimes the turns may be wrong and in others they are triumphantly right, but there's always something worth discovering just around the corner.

Movie: Set in Tokyo in 1958, Always - Sunset On Third Street takes place primarily on 3rd street and follows the lives of some of the residents living there. The film starts off with a young woman from the countryside named Mutsuko Hoshino (Maki Horikita) arriving in Tokyo via train to start her new job at an automobile company. At the train station, Mustuko meets her new employer Norifumi Suzuki (Shin'ichi Tsutsumi) and soon finds out where she'll really be working much to her surprise. Mr. Suzuki does not actually own an automobile company, but merely owns and operates a small, car repair company out of his home called "Suzuki Auto". Mustuko ends up moving in with Mr. Suzuki, his wife Tomoe (Hiroko Yakushimaru) and his young son Ippei (Kazuki Koshimizu). After some initial confusion and some harsh words exchanged, Mustuko (who's now called Roku by the family) settles down and works side-by-side with Mr. Suzuki repairing automobiles.

Right across the street from Suzuki's lives Ryunosuke Chagawa (Hidetaka Yoshioka) the owner of a toy/candy store. Ryunosuke is a writer who's fallen on hard times and instead of writing fine literature, he writes children stories for a monthly publication. This has led him to not only be shunned by his family, but made fun of by some of the other residents on 3rd street. One night Ryunosuke finds himself at the local bar down the road swooning over the beautiful bartender Hiromi (Koyuki). Hiromi has recently been entrusted with a young boy named Junnosuke (Kenta Suga) whose mother has abandoned him. After a little too much Sake and some eye-batting by Hiromi, she manages to convince Ryunosuke to watch over Junnosuke. The next morning Ryunosuke wakes up to find Junnosuke in his home and immediately regrets the decision. Before long Ryunosuke discovers that Junnosuke is a fan of his writings and the two grow closer together.

The remainder of Always - Sunset On Third Street deals with both families, their neighbors and everyday life on 3rd street. Seasons go by and it becomes obvious that times are changing in Japan. Throughout the film in the background, the Tokyo Tower is slowly being built. Technology and Western influence are invading everyday life in Tokyo where televisions, refrigerators and Coca-Cola are becoming household items. Despite being just 13 years after the war, effects are still being felt in Toyko by its residents. In the end Always - Sunset On Third Street is a nostalgic "slice of life" that is uplifting, fulfilling and very entertaining. At some points Always - Sunset On Third Street seems to go a little overboard with melodrama, but never quite feels overwhelming. Whatever minute shortcomings the film has seems insignificant to what it ultimately delivers, lasting quality entertainment.

Much of Always - Sunset On Third Street success has to do with the fine performances turned in by many of its actors. Kenta Suga and Kazuki Koshimizu are a few of the best child actor's I've seen in some time. Hidetaka Yoshioka, Maki Horikita and Shin'ichi Tsutsumi also turn in wonderful performances and really help bring you into the film. Of course none of this would have possible without the passion that director Takashi Yamazak brought to Always - Sunset On Third Street. Back in 2002, Takashi Yamazaki impressed me with his sci-fi action romp, The Returner . While it was hardly unique and had several shortcomings, the film made great use of CGI (including Transformer like planes) and was ultimately very entertaining. With Always - Sunset On Third Street, Yamazaki has taken his visual effect knowledge and integrated it perfectly into a traditional setting. The recreation of Tokyo circa 1958 is breathtaking as elaborate sets and CGI blend together to provide an enthralling backdrop. I for one can't wait to see what Yamazaki tackles for his next project.

...Fei Zhao's sumptuous, award-winning cinematography [is] among the best of the last several decades.

Frequent Yimou Zhang collaborator Li Gong stars as university-educated 19-year-old Songlian, who in 1920s China agrees to marry into the wealthy Chen clan after her father, a tea merchant, dies. She becomes the "Fourth Mistress" to 50-something Master Chen (Jingwu Ma), his face obscured or seen only in long shots throughout the film. Each mistress lives in her own house on the lonely, palatial estate.

Steeped in tradition and ritual perhaps hundreds of years old, the mistresses await their master's bidding each evening: a red lantern is placed in front of the door with whom he will bed with that evening.

Adapted from Su Tong's novel Wives and Concubines, the story primarily revolves around Songlian's relationships with her three predecessors as well as her maid, Yan'er (Lin Kong), with whom the Master also sometimes makes love and who had dearly coveted becoming his Fourth Mistress. The First Wife (Jin Shuyuan) is, like the Master, in her fifties, past her prime and thus wielding little power in the household other than as its symbolic matriarch. The Second Mistress, Zhouyan (Cuifen Cao), is kind and sociable upon Songlian's arrival, while both Yan'er and The Third Mistress, former opera singer Meishan (Caifei He), treat the new arrival with open contempt when the Master isn't around.

Though initially not particularly happy with her arranged marriage, Songlian gradually looks forward to her master's attentions and becomes distressed when, after a time, its benefits are casually taken away as he moves from one bed to another. She has no love for him particularly, other than perhaps to satisfying her occasional need for sex (and, eventually, motherhood), but rather it's something else.

Essentially, the film seems to be saying that, confined to such a limited universe with little to do, virtually nothing of their own (the Master has her father's flute, a treasured heirloom, burned when he wrongly assumes it was the gift of an ex-lover), and their identity stifled - virtually the entire film takes place on the grounds of the Chen estate - the women are reduced to fighting among themselves for the meager compensations being the selected mistress entails: foot massages and the privilege of selecting the dinner menu, among other things.

In the end they become so scheming and petty toward one another in trying to curry their master's favor that they're unable to see the extreme cruelty of the very arrangement, and his utter disregard for them as human beings.

The story has no illusions about the emancipation of these women. Though Songlian initially appears the fiercely independent, determined mistress who'll break the pattern of subservience (she carries who own luggage to the estate and insists on walking there rather than be driven in the family carriage), all her intelligence and assertion of her limited authority only makes her fall from grace that much more agonizing.

Parting Thoughts: Yimou Zhang's films, particularly Raise the Red Lantern, have introduced a very large number of western world audiences to Chinese cinema and culture. For their informative, fascinating depictions of rural country life, of familial and master-servant, peasant-official pecking orders and relationships alone his films would be worth watching. That they're also superb character studies that make you forget you're watching a movie and not there in the midst of it make them especially remarkable achievements...

In 1997 the DVD format was born and Video Essentials (VE) was the best option for people who wanted to calibrate their audio/video home theater systems without the help of expensive home theater professionals. During those first few years, Video Essentials sold over 300,000 copies and became an essential tool for videophiles. (No pun intended)

But in 1999, a new calibration DVD came onto the scene, it was called Avia. Avia excelled in almost everyway to the then dated VE. Avia's menus were easier to navigate, it provided better hands on explanations, and it gave more accurate test patterns to calibrate advanced video systems. So Avia dethroned VE as the "must-have" calibration disc for home theater enthusiasts.

But a lot has changed since 1999. Digital video broadcasts are now slowly becoming a reality, and the DVD format has finally caused the once popular VHS format to go the way of the Dodo (With the exception of D-VHS). With this new serge in digital video communication a newer and more advanced calibration disc was needed to fill the void left by the aging Avia.

So VE has finally struck back with the long awaited and highly anticipated Digital Video Essentials (DVE). Which brings up the question; was it worth the wait? The answer is an enthusiastic yes! DVE is the most advanced and easy-to-use calibration DVD software available for home theater enthusiasts. It is a night and day improvement over VE, and greatly overshadows Avia in terms of visual presentation, and more importantly, ease of calibration.

DVE begins with a four-minute space shuttle launch introductory scene that lets you know from the beginning you're watching a professional, and well-produced DVD. The launch sequence looks stunning, which is no surprise since it, along with all the footage on the DVD, was filmed in Hi-Definition. And even though the end result on your monitor or screen isn't in true Hi-Def resolution due to the DVD format, the picture quality is still spectacular.

After the NASA montage, an introduction to DVE engages, which touches on the subjects of room environment, A/V equipment, and digital video. This is a lengthy and well-organized intro that goes into great detail about how a home theater room should be set up, what types of rooms are best suited for home theaters, what kinds of speakers you should use, the differences between analog and digital television broadcasts, interlaced vs. progressive output, the amazing MPEG format that makes DVD technology work, and the future of Hi-Def viewing that can be found today via D-VHS, personal home computers, and digital broadcast TV.

After the intro you can access the program menu that divides DVE into five separate segments; Introduction, DVD Navigation, Program Guide, Playback Options, and Program Notes. If you're new to Home Theater you should sit through the Introduction and DVD Navigation segments to familiarize yourself with the technology and terms that will be used throughout the presentation. For instance, the DVD Navigation segment shows you how to make sense of your DVD player's remote control and DVD software.

The meat of this production is in Program Guide menu, so that's where you'll want to spend most of your time. Accessing the Program Guide menu takes you to another categorized menu subdivided into Room Environment, Audio, and Video. The Room Environment segment teaches you the importance of acoustics, and how an improperly set up room can be counterproductive in recreating the perfect home cinema experience. Here we learn the proper use, or nonuse of ambient light, and the history of gray and why calibrating proper gray levels is important to home theater applications. Fantastic 3-D animations and wonderful audio demonstrations make this segment enjoyable, and easy to understand, even for the laymen.

The Audio menu touches on many different subcategories, DVD Formats, Loudspeaker Placement, Stereo Demonstration, Multichannel Formats, System Connections, and Setting Audio Levels. Here we learn how to decide which audio format is best for your setup, the true purpose of rear surround speakers, the proper way to position your LFE (Subwoofer) channel speaker, tips on configuring speaker levels, how to use a sound level meter to check that proper sound levels are being directed to the ideal viewing area, and get to run through various audio setup tests.

The Video menu is divided into four subcategories, Basic Calibration, Troubleshooting, Advanced Calibration, and Video Systems Details. Here you'll receive basic step-by-step instruction on how to use the included video test patterns to improve and optimize black levels, flesh tones, color, and sharpness. Thankfully DVE now offers a color filter decoder tool for calibrating color levels. Unlike VE, DVE includes a single card that houses the red, green, and blue filters together. This makes using it simple, as you don't have to go fishing for each individual filter like you do using Avia.

My Impressions

DVE is a real winner. The narration and complex computer animations make this an extremely user-friendly calibration device. Even those who are completely new to the home theater world will be able to learn and adjust their TV on the very first viewing. A lot of the basic technical information will probably fly over the heads of newbies but will most likely be old news to veterans. However, videophiles can still benefit from the many detailed theater layout diagrams that may spark new ideas for speaker and TV placement.

Menu navigation is a huge improvement over VE, but could have been made even simpler. For some reason an arbitrary menu was created strictly for the use of the "menu" button on your DVD's remote control. This menu can cause confusion, as it doesn't offer any new content but merely reorganizes topics already introduced. But besides this flaw, menu navigation is fairly easy.

Many people interested in DVE already own, or have some experience using Avia. And since comparisons between the two are inevitable, I did a direct head-to-head evaluation of both. While Avia is still an excellent and easy-to-use tool for home theater calibration, I feel DVE is a superior product. Avia may have more overall content, but the summarization done by DVE is concise and to the point, and does not skimp the viewer in any way. However, I still prefer the face-to-face instruction in Avia for demonstrating hardware configuration scenarios. I would have liked to see some of this in DVE, but there was none.

In terms of visual and audio teaching supplements, DVE is the unanimous winner. DVE looks and sounds fantastic. The diagrams are much more detailed, and the graphics are light-years ahead of those found in Avia. The audio tests coupled with the 3-D animations makes understanding and adjusting audio levels a breeze, going way beyond Avia's content.

But the area where DVE completely blows Avia out of the water is with its video calibration test patterns. New test patterns were designed specifically for DVE, making video calibration simpler and more efficient. Avia has an enormous arsenal of video test patterns but offers absolutely no instruction on how to use them. So if you're new to home theater, you will need advice from a calibration veteran to help you utilize the patterns. DVE not only narrates the user on what to look for, but it pauses to let you configure each setting during the middle of the segment.

If you're serious about home theater you absolutely need a calibration software DVD. If you don't own a calibration disc yet, DVE is your best option. If you're completely new to home theater and prefer face-to-face instruction by a fellow human, then Avia may be more to your liking, but be warned that Avia does not instruct much on the newer digital video formats, so Avia is already somewhat obsolete. But it's still a great tool for learning the ins and outs of home theater, and is good for calibrating if you know what you're doing. But for the modern videophile, DVE is the only way to go. If further persuasion is still needed, just remember that DVE sells for roughly half the money that Avia does.

I'm convinced, and you will be too.

Video: Digital Video Essentials is presented in 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen. This may not be a movie, but video quality is important when you're using test patterns to calibrate your TV. DVE doesn't disappoint as it offers stunning visuals shot in Hi-Definintion resolution. The opening space shuttle launce sequence is breathtaking, and looks almost as good as true Hi-Def material. The only downside is the appearance of edge enhancement, which actually made calibrating the sharpness of my front projector somewhat confusing because the halos blended in with the perceived sharpness level adjustments. Other than that, this is a fabulous looking DVD.

Renowned cinematographer Allen Daviau, (ET, Empire of the Sun) shot all of the live action footage, so every sequence looked exquisite. This DVD looks every bit as professional as you'd hope, and it makes Avia look like a low-rent production.

Audio: DVE will work with both analog Dolby Digital 2.0 surround systems, as well as Dolby Digital EX 6.1 and DTS-ES equipped systems. Of course if you're a true audiophile you'll want your receiver in 6.1 mode so you can make sure your system is properly configured.

The narration dialogue is clear at all times, however, if you only have a 5.1 speaker setup, you will miss out on a large chunk of dialogue that goes to the back surround speakers during a couple of the audio demonstrations. A 6.1 speaker setup is highly recommended.

The audio tests are very effective. For instance, during the first surprise surround sound test, the spontaneous sound of a ricocheting bullet nearly made me jump out of my seat. The audio works just as it was intended, and sounds perfect for its main purpose of system calibration.

Final Thoughts: Joseph J. Kane, Jr. has done a wonderful job creating a modern calibration DVD for the new-age home theater system. The graphics and animations provide tons of eye candy, and the Hi-Def live-action footage makes adjusting video settings easy. The step-by-step video test pattern instruction is the best on the market, and far exceeds Avia in ease of use. If you already own Avia, DVE is not a "must-have" DVD, but it will make calibration simpler. If you don't own Avia, DVE is easily your best option as it sells for half the price of the now nearly obsolete Avia. Digital Video Essentials is currently the latest and greatest tool for turning would-be home theaters into true home cinemas. DVD Talk Collector Series

Movie: Il Mare (or Siworae) was released in Korea in 2000, which was right around when Korean cinema started blowing up internationally. While it didn't make a huge splash in the Korean box office, the film has won critics and fans world wide over the years. So much in fact that Hollywood took notice and decided to add the film to its growing stable of Asian remakes. Il Mare ('the sea' in Italian) was released by Warner Bros. in the US as The Lake House in June of 2006.

Il Mare at its core is a simple tale of romance between two lonely souls. The sci-fi twist to the story is that Eun-joo and Song-hyun are separated in time (which thankfully is never explained in the film). When moving out of her seaside house, Eun-joo leaves a Christmas card in the mailbox for the next occupants. Instead of the next tenants receiving the card, Seong-hyun, the previous owner of the house receives it two years in the past. Being that the house was newly built for him by his aunt, Seong-hyun finds the card puzzling. Seong-hyun's curiosity increases as the letters continue to mention things that have yet to happen. At first both Eun-joo and Seong-hyun are skeptical, but they continue to exchange letters and gifts until they come to realize what is happening. Eventually both Seong-hyun and Eun-joo fall in love and set a date to meet 2 years in the the future (for Seon-hyun at least). In the end just like with love, Seong-hyun and Eun-joo find out that time is often unpredictable.

Perhaps Il Mare's greatest strength is its wonderful visuals. Hong Kyung-Pyo's cinematography is outstanding and clearly shows why he's one of the top DP's in Korea today. Some of his other films that he's shot are The Foul King, Guns and Talks , Save The Green Planet and Tae Guk Gi . Just as important as the cinematography in Il Mare is the set design. The beautiful seaside house is the primary filming location of the movie and it looks amazing in every shot. Of course this is all made possible by the cleverly written screenplay by Yeo Ji-na. In a film which could easily become clichéd and boring, Yeo Ji-na keeps Il Mare precise and to the point. Clocking in at barely over 90 minutes, Il Mare avoids the problem that many Korean films have during this time period, running to long.

What also makes Il Mare so enjoyable is the performances by Lee Jeong-jae (Seong-hyun) and Jeon Ji-hyeon (Eun-joo). Both actors' do a fabulous job portraying their characters and really bring the story to life. What's even more impressive is that they essentially deliver solo performances for the film. The very beautiful Jeon Ji-hyeon (best known for her role in My Sassy Girl ) was only 19 when this was shot, but seems far more mature with her acting. Her co-star, Lee Jeong-jae, matches up well with Jeon Ji-hyeon even though they don't spend much on-screen time together. Besides working on films in Korea, Lee Jeong-jae has also worked in TV and the modeling industry. I'm sure both of these fields helped in shooting Il Mare, where he gets plenty of screen time. The director of Il Mare, Lee Hyun-seung, brings all the pieces of the film together brilliantly. Probably more important than anything in this movie was the editing (as in most time travel films). Lee Hyun-seung handles this aspect of production perfectly and it sets the pace and overall flow of the movie. It's unfortunate that this is the last film that Lee Hyun-seung directed. I searched, but couldn't find anything in regards to him leaving the film industry. Final Words: Il Mare is a heartwarming film that will put both a smile on your face and tears in your eyes. This is still one of my favorite Korean films and that's saying a lot considering the company it's up against...

As much as I respect Richard Roeper's opinion, when it comes to film criticism, I think he grossly misses the point Alexandre Aja is making with his remake of the Wes Craven horror classic, The Hills Have Eyes. Aja's 2006 remake isn't simply about a group of flesh-hungry mutants living in the desert and feasting on any unlucky passerby. Sure, that is certainly one element of the film, but upon further inspection we come to understand that The Hills Have Eyes (2006) is more about the breaking point of the normal human being. It's more about transformation and testing the very limits of the human psyche than it is about letting the mutated hilldwellers have their way with an unfortunate family on vacation. And, ultimately, the film is about the basic reaction of human nature to fight back, defend oneself, and become the unlikely hero when there's simply no other solution.

Wes Craven's The Hills Have Eyes has become quite the horror classic since its release in 1977. Years before the director became a household name with the release of A Nightmare on Elm Street, Craven made his dent in the survival-horror genre by crafting The Hills Have Eyes on a shoestring budget in the sweltering heat of the desert. The film - his follow-up to the 1972 Bergman-influenced The Last House on the Left - found a family, on their way to California, breaking down in the middle of the desert and becoming the target of ferocious attacks by a group of deformed cannibals living in the hills. A work of grisly, gore-filled entertainment, The Hills Have Eyes immediately ingrained its enigmatic ending in the twisted minds of horror fans everywhere. So when the horror remake craze started to come around just a few years ago, you just had to know that The Hills Have Eyes would be high on the list of films to reimagine. And, if Wes Craven wasn't going to remake the film himself, what better person to decide who should craft a new version of his classic?

The first smartest thing Craven did, while searching for the right filmmaker to helm the remake, was to find someone who actually cares about the original film. Enter Alexandre Aja. Fresh off the success of 2003's gory shockfest, Haute Tension, Aja (and his Art Director Gregory Levasseur) were the ones Craven tapped to reimagine The Hills Have Eyes, and that decision is what makes all the difference in the success of the 2006 remake. Alexandre Aja is someone who simply knows how to make a horror film. Even aside from the gory high spots in his films, Aja has a knack for creating characters that the audience actually cares about throughout the entirety of the film. You root for these people, whether they come out on top in the end or not. His ability to create tension and suspense out of even the smallest of details, along with the amazingly gorgeous look of his films, makes Aja the perfect director to tackle the remake of a film set in an enormous, desolate landscape.

Staying fairly close to the beats in the original film, The Hills Have Eyes (2006) succeeds because it takes chances that you don't often see taken in a Hollywood film. While the plot consists of a somewhat familiar story, Aja takes his film to places that - even as it's happening - you simply can't believe. In terms of the gore factor alone, The Hills Have Eyes (2006) amps up the gross-out factor by allowing its characters to go one step beyond where you'd think they go; probably even one step further than they rightfully should go. Without giving anything away, there's one scene in particular that caused quite a stir upon the film's theatrical release (and it's slightly longer in this unrated cut). This scene, even though it is brutally difficult to watch for anyone with a heart and soul, exists in the film because it must exist. It works to take Aja's mutant villains to another level of evil - a level that only helps to make the film's hero that much more heroic and justified in his actions. It's a testament to the gall and perseverance of Alexandre Aja in that he relentlessly pursues his vision by going to the exact places in the narrative that he wants to go. For such a young director (with only a few films under his belt), this persistence in vision and adeptness with his subject can only mean good things for Aja's budding career.

With a strong cast consisting of Ted Levine (of The Silence of the Lambs fame), Kathleen Quinlan, and Emilie de Ravin (Lost's "Claire"), the acting is formidable throughout the film though some of the lesser characters could have had a bit more to do (other than scream). Even more powerful in The Hill Have Eyes (2006), however, is the absolutely gorgeous look of the film. Aja gives us some beautiful landscape shots, often draped in the slightest bit of different shades of green, yellow, orange, and red. The film's palette is one that only helps to make the audience feel the same heat and oppression that these characters feel. His choice of angles, point of view shots, and close-ups makes even the most spacious, desolate landscape feel claustrophobic. As huge as this desert appears to be, its clear that Aja's characters feel completely trapped in their environment - a testament to the work of both the director and his Art Director Gregory Levasseur.

It's appropriate that the credits sequence of The Hills Have Eyes (2006) evokes the same feelings of impending doom that we see in Zack Snyder's Dawn of the Dead (2004). Both remakes of absolute horror classics, these two films show (from the very beginning) that they're going to be something a little bit different. Right from the moment the credits hit the screen, we know that both Dawn of the Dead (2004) and The Hills Have Eyes (2006) aren't going to be straight remakes. They are, instead, going to reimagine the original films, mix in some new twists, and give the audience something worth watching. That's not to say that Aja's film is a perfect reimagining. It is, in fact, slightly too long and explains too much (too explicitly) about the origins of the mutants. The Hills Have Eyes (2006), nonetheless, is one of the most interesting and successful of the recent horror remakes. It works to effectively transcend both its genre and its cinematic roots by existing as a horrifying tale about the depths of human depravity and the heights of human nature's persistence and transformative abilities.

Final Thoughts:
There is definitely a camp of horror fans out there that are so steadfast in their opinion of classic horror films that they refuse to even give recent horror remakes a chance. It's an unfortunate situation, however, because those fans are missing out on some really excellent modern horror films (some of which may even become classics themselves someday). I absolutely love classic horror. There are some films that are just so insanely great that I can't imagine anyone trying to remake them, but I'm also willing to accept that remakes will always be around. Sure, there are plenty of misses, but there are also some hits. Dawn of the Dead (2004) and The Hills Have Eyes (2006) are two remakes that took the ideas set forth in the original films and twisted them into some great modern horror entertainment. In the case of Alexandre Aja's remake, I think he actually made some marked improvements over the original Wes Craven film. Aja's film is a different film from Craven's, but that's one of the things that makes The Hills Have Eyes (2006) so effective. The young filmmaker deserves a lot of credit for being so persistent in his vision and so relentless in the pursuit of that vision.

All that certainly pays off for Alexandre Aja, as The Hills Have Eyes (2006) is an entertaining horror film that not only provides loads of grisly images for the hardcore gorehounds, but also manages to make an intelligent statement about the resilience of human nature itself. Call it "ugly, splatter-porn" if you will, Richard Roeper, but I call The Hills Have Eyes (2006) a refreshingly good remake...

The story is based around Louison (Jeunet regular Dominique Pinon who also appears in Amelie), who arrives out of nowhere one day, in a post apocalyptic world, or more specifically, a small town in France. Louison is looking for work in trade for room and board, as a former clown his skills aren't so much in demand but he is a perfectly capable laborer and while he doesn't have much money he's perfectly happy to work for what he needs. He finally finds a job as a handyman in an strange old apartment building overtop of a butcher shop, where, to his delight, he is given lodging and some food in exchange for his services by the butcher himself, a man named Clapet (Jean-Claude Dreyfus of The City Of Lost Children).

Food is a hot commodity in this world, and used as currency. Most people live off of grain and other bland consumables and use more expensive foods like meat as barter, and because of this a lot of people are also cannibals. The butcher shop downstairs takes care of this for the tenants, but unluckily for Louison, he's next on the menu. Things get a little complicated for the butcher, who intends to serve him up to the tenants who live above him in exchange for grain, when his pretty daughter, Julie (Marie-Laure Dougnac), falls in love with Louison as she knows all too well what her father and his tenants are up to. In order to save his life, she gets in touch with an underground movement made up of some eccentric vegetarian rebels who actually east food rather than covet it as a possession.

On a visual level, Delicatessen is a completely amazing film that could easily draw comparisons to the better works of Terry Gilliam with maybe some of the stranger elements of David Fincher's catalogue thrown in for good measure – but which also stands on its own as a completely unique animal. Strange architecture, oddly mutant like cast members, and bizarre and unlikely color schemes with an emphasis on organic Earth tones like green yellow and brown give the film a very original visual flair uncommon in most other films. Every frame is constructed with a detail-oriented sense of care and the compositions in this movie are absolutely perfect from start to finish. Truly one of the finest examples of just how good a film can look made within the last fifteen years, Delicatessen is such a sumptuous looking movie that it's really hard to appreciate just how pretty it all is upon first viewing and as such, it holds up well and for that reason it has quite a bit of replay value. Repeat viewings ensure that you'll pick out little details that you didn't notice the first or even second time around.

The performances in the film are similarly fantastic. Dominique Pinon is completely sympathetic and a genuinely likeable guy in the film, we're able to feel for him and understand his plight and we honestly don't want to see him end up on someone's dinner plate. We're able to invest enough in his performance that we care about him and therefore we care about the outcome of the film, especially when his romance with Julie kicks in. To that mind, Marie-Laure Dougnac is adorable in her part, she's quirky and odd but there's a sweetness to her in the movie that suits the equally goofy sweetness that Louison carries about. The true star of the cast, however, is Jean-Claude Dreyfus who is over the top pretty much throughout the film and he brings a very funny persona to the movie that works well in the setting of the story. It helps as well that Dreyfus has some of the best lines of dialogue in the film, made even more memorable by his delivery (his interaction with the "Bullshit Detector" is classic!). Look for Jess Franco/Euro-cult regular Howard Vernon, who pops up in the film in a fun supporting role.

The story is quirky and while it's very dark it keep its tongue very much in cheek while the film takes us through the beautiful and freakish world that Jeunet and Caro have created. It's a strange film of contrasts, clashing horror with love and suspense with comedy, but it's a very original work that proves to be both interesting and entertaining at the same time. It isn't particularly thought provoking, and at times it seems to be simply weird for the sake of being weird, but those with a taste for surrealist black comedy should embrace the film with open arms.

Final Thoughts:
The movie...holds up really well, making this one highly recommended!

Noriko (Setsuko Hara) is the only child of 56-year-old widower Shukichi Somiya (Chishu Ryu). The two contently live together, Noriko happily looking after her father's needs, though Aya (Yumeji Tsukioka), Noriko's divorced friend from high school, urges her to find a husband, especially since Noriko's the only one among their friends not yet married. (The war and illness put such plans on hold.) Shukichi's sister, Masa (Haruko Sugimura), also believes it's time for Noriko to get married, and presses him to let her act as a go-between and set up a meeting with prospective husband Satake, a respected chemist.

For his part, Shukichi believes his daughter might find happiness with protegee Hattori (Jun Usami), whose company Noriko clearly enjoys. It seems like an obvious match, but when Shukichi's mentions it to Noriko she bursts out laughing: he's already engaged and they're merely good friends. Noriko again expresses her desire to keep things the way they are, but how much longer can she resist the pressures from her friends, relatives, and eventually her own father?

The cliche is that Yasujiro Ozu and Akira Kurosawa are at opposite ends of the Japanese cinema spectrum, Kurosawa being the "most-Westernized," Ozu the most purely "Japanese." Though Ozu's signature style was and is all his own, the two filmmakers weren't all that different in other respects. Like Kurosawa, one of the most impressive things about Ozu here is his ability to trim all the fat, to boil everything down to a form that's deceptively simple and unadorned yet monumentally expressive.

Minor Spoilers Ahead

There are many impressive scenes that accomplish this. There's a long, silent close-up of Setsuko Hara (then 29 and at the peak of her great beauty) with no dialogue at all, yet one reads in her face the innermost concerns about her life and her father's future. Near the end there's a similar close-up of Chishu Ryu (only 45 but already playing old men), home alone and silently peeling an apple with a pocketknife. And it's entirely clear what's going on in his heart and mind, too.

Throughout the film characters come and go through a sliding door that makes a loud doorbell-type ring each time. The reason for this becomes clear at the very end. After finally marrying off his daughter, Shukichi comes home from the wedding late that night and there's that doorbell - but now no one's around to hear that he's returned home.

Conversely, Ozu cleverly tells us about a prospective husband, Satake, a chemist who looks just like Gary Cooper (in Pride of the Yankees). A meeting is an arranged and a wedding eventually takes place, the film ending the night of the reception - and yet through all this we never once meet the groom because it's simply not necessary.

The film is all about setting things right, putting things in their proper place as things and people should be. The film opens with Noriko and Masa attending a traditional tea ceremony, as extreme an exercise in formality anywhere in the world.

As with all good foreign films of this vintage, it's captivating to look at postwar life captured in the film's exteriors. Ozu (like Kurosawa) loved shooting trains, and a long train ride from Kita-Kamakura to Tokyo is filmed in exquisite detail, and probably was photographed aboard a regularly-scheduled run. There are amazing shots of Tokyo's Ginza early in its reconstruction (contrasting a largely unchanged Kyoto) with reminders - though not criticism, especially - of the Occupation in the form of a giant sign advertising Coca-Cola and road signs incongruously in English.

If the film makes a statement about encroaching American influence comes in the presentation of best friend Aya, whose very westernized home (where she bakes a cake, something uncommon in Japanese kitchens even today), clothes and hairstyle and makeup contrast the very traditional Noriko...

Parting Thoughts: Though some might accuse Late Spring of embracing (or criticizing) singularly Japanese traditions of marriage and family that have little relevance in the west, in fact like all of Ozu's best films Late Spring deals with universal concerns about the sad but inevitable break-up between parents and their children.