Reviews

"I don't wanna be a product of my environment; I want my environment to be a product of me." – Frank Costello

Memorable quotes are abundant in Martin Scorsese's new thriller, "The Departed", but none of them describe the theme of the film quite as elegantly as the one above. Frank Costello, portrayed with devilish glee by the great Jack Nicholson is a man who demands absolute control over everything around him and will stop at nothing to exude his will in obtaining it. What's interesting about this film is that this sort of machismo persona is evident in many of the male characters we meet, no matter which side of the law they reside. These guys are almost over the top to the point of being comical, but it helps to create characters that blur the line between the good/bad dichotomy. Take for instance the character of Dignam (Mark Wahlberg), a police officer who is every bit as nasty and belligerent as Costello –- maybe worse. Ellerby (Alec Baldwin), is also an example of this. All of these guys think they can control themselves, each other and their environment, but of course nothing is further from the truth.

"The Departed" stars Leonardo DiCaprio as Billy Costigan, a young cop who is sent undercover to infiltrate the Boston Irish mob led by Frank Costello (Jack Nicholson). Meanwhile, Collin Sullivan (Matt Damon) who has been nurtured from the point of childhood by Costello now works for the police department's Special Investigation Unit (the unit ultimately responsible for taking Costello down) allowing him to provide inside information. Tension builds at an expeditious rate when both the police and the mob realize that there is a traitor among them and that both Costigan and Sullivan are in danger of losing their cover. Parallels between cops and criminals are again drawn when both men are called on to test their loyalty to the other side under intense life or death situations. As Costello himself says "When you're facing a loaded gun, what's the difference?" The character foils depicted in "The Departed" remind me a lot of what Michael Mann has previously done in films such as "Heat" and "Collateral", but they also further Scorsese's own canon of work, building on the greatness of films such as "Taxi Driver", "Raging Bull", "Goodfellas" and "Casino". Scorsese is very interested in the psyche of alienated loners on the edge and he also likes to explore the notion of 'betrayal'. These motifs are evident in much of his work. In "The Departed" Costigan and Sullivan are both loners and are each guilty of at least one betrayal. Ultimately, the real question becomes; whom have they betrayed? This question is not easily answered.

A review of "The Departed" would not be complete without a discussion of the film's technical marvels. Thelma Schoonmaker, who has edited every Scorsese film since "Raging Bull", creates a desperate energy, which reflects very well the emotional states of Costigan and Sullivan, while also keeping us eager to see what happens next. Schoonmaker has an ability to create cohesion out of chaos. In the hands of a lesser talent, this type of editing would overshadow characterization and plot drastically, but like all great film editors, she is able to reflect a film's themes, mood and emotional states through choice of style.

Michael Ballhaus, who has been Scorsese's cinematographer several times in the past, also deserves much praise. He should especially be commended for bringing Boston to life like no one has ever done. I am fascinated by cities in film and when they are photographed so well that they become a character in themselves, it is truly a delight. "The Departed" is all Boston, and while a few scenes were filmed in New York, you would never know.

Despite the fact that "The Departed" has by enlarge been hailed a masterpiece by the critical community, some have criticized Scorsese for being a "sell-out" or "going too mainstream". Others just feel the film is completely unoriginal. It must be said that "The Departed" is in fact a remake of a 2002 Hong Kong film called "Infernal Affairs". I have not seen this film and therefore cannot comment on its quality, but I will say that to automatically dismiss "The Departed" because it's a remake is very unfair. Normally, I am skeptical of remakes myself, but it is quite obvious that Scorsese and his screenwriter William Monohan have crafted their own vision of this material and as a result, it easily stands on its own. Those who have seen other Scorsese pictures know what I mean.

There are many reasons to like "The Departed", as I've discussed, but I think the most important thing is that ultimately this film is just a purely enjoyable crime/gangster drama. In fact, I will go so far as to say that this is one of the four or five best gangster films of all time with the likes of "Goodfellas", "Scarface" and "The Godfather".

"Babel" represents director Alejanrdo Gonzalez Iñárritu's conclusion to a trilogy that begins with "Amores Perros" and continues with "21 Grams". That being said, if you have seen either of those films and did not like them, it is probably fair to assume that you will not like "Babel" either. Thematically and stylistically, this film continues in the same direction, but increases in scope, illustrating that one incident can trigger a devastating series of events all around the globe.

Like "21 Grams", "Babel" is constructed as a puzzle, with different pieces transpiring during different times and in different places. Many viewers will no doubt see similarities to Paul Haggis' "Crash" which explores similar issues; however Iñárritu's piece places more emphasis on human emotion and requires the viewer to be much more participative in the interpretation of themes and ideas.

The film is set into motion when the young sons of a Moroccan goat herder get careless with a new rifle and accidentally shoot an American tourist (Cate Blanchett) traveling with her husband (Brad Pitt). This one act sets off a series of tragedies with global implications. American officials interpret this as an act of terrorism and of course the media reflects this accordingly. There is a story of the couple's undocumented nanny who juggles taking care of their kids while attending her own son's wedding in Mexico. In my favorite story, a deaf Japanese girl (Rinko Kikuchi) struggles with her mother's recent suicide and a father who is emotionally distant. This story doesn't reveal its connection to the others until late in the film, but it is undoubtedly the most poignant.

At its core, "Babel" is about the difficulty of human communication and even though stories unfold in four different countries and in five languages (English, Arabic, Spanish, Japanese, and Sign); language is far from the principal obstacle. This film is more concerned with cultural assumptions and biases that tend to obscure reality and how our perceived differences keep us from connecting to each other. There are many reasons to recommend "Babel", but most of all because of its astounding ability to cope with issues of global importance while also presenting characters whose individual struggles are no less compelling.

In filming "Near Dark", Kathryn Bigelow creates a masterpiece of counter-cinematic art. Counter-cinema in its simplest definition is cinema that through its own cinematic practices, questions and subverts existing cinematic codes and conventions. Counter-cinema usually lies in independent film-making, but sometimes may arise into some semi-mainstream Hollywood films. The later works of Bigelow are much more mainstream, but her use of genre, gender and narrative in her counter-cinematic works ("Near Dark" and "The Loveless") are identifiable in the more mainstream "Blue Steel" and even "Point Break" and "Strange Days".

Counter-cinema often attempts to combine genres of film that would, on the surface seem to not go together. In "Near Dark" Bigelow cleverly combines the seemingly unrelated 'vampire' sub-genre and the 'western' genre. The fact is, these two genres are not as unrelated as we might expect. Both are embodied by a certain mysticism. The tradition of the cowboy as a mythic hero dates back to the western dime novels from the 1860's. The early days of western cinema were based to a large degree on these novels. Vampires are also seen as mythical beings. The first truly great vampire film was "Nosferatu" of 1922, but the whole mythical ideal of the vampire goes back even further. Bram Stoker's "Dracula" was published much before this date. The curious thing about "Near Dark" is that even though the 'western' genre and the 'vampire' genre have a mythical semblance to them, this film is the most realistic and human vampire film that I have seen. I suspect that this is because the film focuses on both worlds; that of nature which nurtures the farm which Caleb (Adrian Pasdar) comes from, and that of the tight knit family of vampires that Mae (Jenny Wright) comes from. Also, counter to many other works of vampire cinema, nowhere in "Near Dark" is the word 'vampire' stated. However, for the sake of simplicity, I will use the term 'vampire' in this review. Both worlds seem to offer something that the other wants, though humanity (not being human) seems to be the ultimate goal.

As the film begins, we meet Caleb who appears to be a drifter, sporting ragged western clothing and a cowboy hat. While standing outside a convenience store with his friends, he sees Mae walk out for a breath of air with her ice cream cone. He immediately is stunned by her overwhelming beauty so he goes and begins to talk to her. While taking an evening drive together, Caleb tells Mae that he has never met any other girls like her. "No, you haven't met any girls like me, she replies". She says that he has never met any other girls like her because when the light from a star hits earth a billion years later, she will still be here. Caleb is intrigued with Mae's mysticism, whereas many men would instantly be turned off by the oddness of her presence. But Caleb's character seems to have restless energy and dogged individualism, just as the traditional cowboy always does in film. He is not the type who would care.

It goes without saying that Caleb gets bit by Mae and is no longer a human being, at least in terms of the usual definition. In one of the film's most effective scenes Caleb stumbles across an open field in a desperate attempt to get home, just after he has been bitten. His body is beginning to burn in the open sunlight, but he does not know what has happened to him at this point. Sunlight plays an important role in "Near Dark", as it clearly contrasts the world of the vampires, and Caleb's world of the farm. The light which nurtures the farm and the fields that Caleb is crossing, is now the biggest threat to his survival. He has crossed over into a world, a world completely incompatible with his previous world. The vast, open fields again symbolize the western genre. Two key typologies to this genre are the open range and civilization. I personally was raised on a ranch, and I find it interesting how people like my parents refer to the ranching lifestyle as civilization. But the large and open landscapes of Oklahoma do not only represent the nurturing world of the farm; it is also a representation of loneliness and isolation on the part of vampires. The vampires in the film, are in a world where they are isolated by their confinement to the night and the need to feed upon human beings' blood to survive. In this sense, the landscape, which Caleb is crossing is a representation of both his previous life and his new life. Just before he makes it home, a large RV containing the family of vampires races towards him and picks him up. As he is pulled into the side door, Caleb loses his cowboy hat and hence loses a powerful connection to his previous identity.

What follows in the film are continual contrasts between both worlds, the one whose people live at night, and the other whose people live during the day. The only bridge or connection between the two is during the sunsets and the sunrises. There are numerous beautiful scenes where Caleb walks across the frame with a sunset in the background. Theoretically, this is the only place where the two worlds can co-exist. One may also see this motif as a bridge where the two genres of the vampire film and the western meet. The vampire can still survive in the dim light produced by a sunset or a sunrise, and at the same time the image of a sunset is a key visual in the western film.

"Near Dark" is not only about differences; Bigelow draws upon the family unit as an essential similarity between the vampires and the humans. There are strong parallels drawn between Caleb's family and Mae's family. Both are headed by distinctive male figures, Caleb's father and Jesse (Lance Henriksen). Both men maintain a tight bond within their separate families. Even though Jesse is not a father, he is a definite leader who acts as father-figure. He looks out for his own, just as Caleb's father is looking out for Caleb and his younger sister. Families, to the majority of people are a uniquely human unit. In depicting families in both worlds, we learn that humanity not only exists within the standard perception of the human unit. We must remember that each one of these vampires was at one point a human being. The film seems to be implying that even in the most extreme of transitions (from human to vampire), one cannot completely leave behind the rites that you previously cherished so deeply. Homer (Joshua John Miller), one of the vampires who was 'turned' while still a child, is the most blatant depiction of this notion. He appears to be quite disenchanted with his current lifestyle. He is always angry and cynical until he meets Caleb's sister. Homer seems to fall for her in much the same fashion that Caleb fell for Mae. Again, another parallel with humanity.

Interestingly, in "Near Dark", there is a way in which a vampire can make the transition back to a human being. Many people have argued that this process in not explained well enough. My only answer is that these people should watch the film again a few times, and they may arrive at some possible answers. The way I view the film, the process of converting the vampire to a human relates back to the whole notion of nature and nurturing that is so apparent in the rest of the film.

**** out of ****

The only thing more frightening that having the Holocaust as part of our world's long history is to know that are human minds capable of creating and sustaining such an oppression. The real horror of Bryan Singer's adaptation of Stephen King's novella "Apt Pupil" lies in that we have this knowledge. We know that Adolf Hitler possessed the powers of immense manipulation and charisma. This has been so ingrained into our heads that I remember as a child knowing that Hitler was charismatic before I really knew what the term meant. This film is an exploration into the mind of a person who conceivably has many of the same manipulative characteristics. In the progression of the film, we slowly learn why.

Before any images actually come on screen, we hear the voice of someone asking if the Holocaust occurred as a result of economic or social cultural reasons. Or was it in fact, human nature? We then realize that the monologue is being given by a school teacher in a social studies class. The principle character, Todd Bowden (Brad Renfro), a member of this class and is fascinated with studying the Holocaust. He spends much time in the library reading books and newspaper articles on the subject. Just as the opening credits finish, the camera zooms in slowly to the eyes of a concentration camp leader. This is the first of many extreme close-up shots of eyes. This distance motif is incredibly effective. The eyes are the window to a man's soul and the psyche that "Apt Pupil" explores.

One rainy night, while Todd is riding the bus, he sees a mysterious man, who he realizes is Kurt Dussander (Ian McKellan), a Nazi war criminal and concentration camp leader who managed to escape from Germany years before. This is when we really begin to see Todd's disturbed mind. He is the kind of person who is so meticulous that he finds fourteen finger print matches of Dussander and builds a file that will be sent to the Israeli government if he doesn't agree to tell stories about the Holocaust that "they are too afraid to tell in school". It is now clear that Todd is not so fascinated with the Holocaust because he's racist (the film makes no reference to him being racist). He admires the power, dedication and will behind the driving force of the Holocaust. He mimics this power in his blackmailing of Dussander.

The scenes with Dussander explaining in explicit detail the acts that he performed in concentration camps are quite disturbing in themselves, but what is more disturbing is that Todd seems more detached than Kurt. Most of us would cringe in disgust if we were to sit and listen to the stories that Kurt tells. We get the impression that Todd is thrilled with the fact that he is able to control this man and make him relive his past.

In the film's most harrowing scene, Todd brings Kurt an officer's uniform, similar to what he would have worn during the War years, and makes him march. Up until this point, we are led to believe that perhaps Kurt has had some time to develop remorse over the years for his haneous acts of brutality, but when Todd begins commanding him, Kurt fades to the same state of mind of his Nazi persona from the past and we see the man capable of ordering concentration camp personnel to gas hundreds of Jews. The scene is truly chilling and stands out as the most memorable in the film.

"Apt Pupil" is occasionally slow, but never boring. I, for one could not take my eyes off the screen for a second. The power struggles between Todd and Kurt are always intense. The sequence of events leads up to a horrifying scene with Todd and his guidance counselor (David Schwimmer). Here, we learn of the lengths that Todd will take his manipulation. "You can't do that," the guidance counselor says. "You have no idea what I am capable of doing," replies Todd. This line of dialogue is very effective. We know from having seen the rest of the film that Todd is capable of quite a lot. While not as powerful or intense as Stephen King's novella, the film "Apt Pupil" gives us a creepy insight to the corruption of power and manipulation.

**** out of ****