Musings on Recent Cinematics

Not necessarily all of these films will be able to make it to my favourite list, but they have intrigued and charmed me enough to start my rambling!

I'm A Cyborg, But That's OK (2006)

Perhaps my favourite film by Chan-wook Park. In his usual colourful, whimsical and black-comedy style, I'm a Cyborg But That's OK is much more gentle than Park's other works. The gorgeous dreamlike quality of the film, reminiscent of a children's amusement park, is actually an exquisite and poetic exploration of the inner landscapes of people suffering from mental disorders. It is as if you had fallen through the rabbit hole, experiencing Alice's Wonderland with Young-goon in search of the mystery that is her "purpose of existence" as a cyborg.

Fanny and Alexander (1982)

A stunning masterpiece. I finished this 5-hour Swedish gem in one go. Mysteriously enchanting and magnificently executed, the complex yet excellently balanced plot and the incredible web of characters make this luminous cinematic jewel a must for any lovers of theatre, literature, psychology, Ingmar Bergman and all things magical. Go for the unabridged five hour version.

Innocence (2004)

Dark and beautiful and pure - a hauntingly mysterious film full of juxtapositions of symbolism. What strikes me the most is its 'music box' quality, the quietness interspersed with sounds of nature and perfectly poised, picturesque cinematography/compositions. The ending is somewhat of a surprise - suggestive of the beginning of adulthood full of light and life, in stark contrast with the stillness, slightly sinister childhood within the Secret Garden.

Film 4 review: Remember the nursery rhyme that asks, "What are little girls made of?" the answer being "sugar and spice and all things nice"? One need only watch a few moments of Lucile Hadzihalilovic's mesmerising coming-of-age fable (adapted from a 19th century novella by German writer Frank Wedekind) to realise her response is something far darker and more complex. Perhaps it's to be expected from the partner and former editor of Gaspar 'Irréversible' Noé, but she establishes her own artistic voice with a unique and intriguing approach. Essentially, she tackles adult themes while retaining the mystery of the best childhood fantasies.

Stay (2005)

A bizarrely enchanting and deeply philosophical film. It is both an intelligent psychological thriller, and an extremely beautiful visual representation which explores the thin line between madness and genius, the notions of sam sara and reincarnation, irrationality/poetry, and touches upon the core concepts deeply rooted in certain Eastern philosophical thoughts (notably Buddhist and Hindu, i.e. Advaita Vedanta [literally, "non-duality"]).

The "dreamscapes" of the imagery become more intense as the film develops, and contributes successfully to the mood of the protagonist (McGregor) as well as the overall ambience.

The fact that it is left somewhat unresolved, which blurs the line between real/unreal or truth/lie, further enhances its clever complexity and highlights a major point of this film:
"Look around you - if this is a dream, the whole world is inside it."



The Piano (1993)

Jane Campion's The Piano is true visual poetry - achingly beautiful, filled with metaphors, allusions and symbolism. Nyman's music is one of the very few film scores which challenge and indeed command the film instead of quietly complementing it. The intensity of the film as well as its music build up towards the climax that is Ada's scene of her renaissance underwater, which has to be one of the most captivating cinematic moments. Holly Hunter's performance is also remarkable.

No Country for Old Men (2007)

Perceptually and cognitively breathtaking. With such poetry in the ending monologue and opening cinematography, this film is provocatively and startlingly beautiful. Its philosophical evocation of free will and determinism (choices versus fate) questions human nature and ethics, as we see how moral decisions can trigger immoral certainties which are all part of the pre-ordained pattern. The intensity of Javier Bardem's thrilling performance contributes hugely to this cinematic gem. His portrayal of the ghost-like Chigurh has such strength as to almost represent Death and fate themselves. Perhaps the only recent film close to being a masterpiece.

The House of Mirth (2004)

The House of Mirth is directed by Terence Davies, an adaptation from Edith Wharton's novel of the same name. From a cinematic and aesthetic point of view, every single frame in the film is an absolute painting. The Edwardian aristocratic society in New York has been reconstructed faithfully and to such painstaking details that the Beautiful Era (Belle Époque) is brought back to life so vividly and yet with the picturesque stillness which seems to capture the ephemeral beauty of a fleeting moment, to the modern eye both temporally and spatially. And yet underneath this apparent gracefulness, Edith Wharton sharply slashes the upper class society open with such precision and brutal honesty, uncovering the metaphorical savageness behind the false veil. The 'reality' is terrifying and vile. Wharton's language is flawlessly and beautifully executed and employed throughout the film - every sentence has a different layer of meaning, and every irony is perfectly placed behind the elegant manners and one's unspoken social standing.
Gillian Anderson does a fantastic job portraying the tragic heroine Lily Bart. Terence Davies's attempt at directing literary films adapted from classics is a success here. From a purely aesthetic angle alone, this film already wins my heart. Not to mention all the layers and profundity, the repressed mood and atmosphere of helplessness, and all the brilliant symbolism and allusion. The House of Mirth, for me, is definitely a film worth repeated viewings, each time with a more gratifying understanding and personal interpretation.



Tokyo Sonata (2008)

A great drama of and about our time, with the most beautiful ending. The subtle approach of the film is wonderfully complementary to the intricately rendered, multi-layers of psychological and societal issues being explored here, underneath its deceptively straightforward narrative. I love how different emotions are expressed and woven together in Tokyo Sonata - supression, loneliness, pride, shame, individualism yet hopeless co-dependence, humour, sadness, ideals, affection, understanding, and eventually, a sense of optimism. Not one theme feels out of place.