jürgen fauth’s muckworld

You may think of film criticism as a rather sedate pursuit, involving a lot of sitting around in the dark and scratching one’s beard. But in truth, the trenches of cinemania are treacherous ground. Never mind the blogger infighting and hordes of rabid fanboys waiting for you after you post — I’m talking about the real dangers that lurk in the space between the screen and your eyes, where auteur loyalty means nothing, empty buzz can finish you off before the opening credits, and the blood of the gullible is spilled by the bucket. Or at least, their patience.

What am I on about? Last week’s two major disappointments, the Flaming Lips’ bizarrely sluggish Christmas on Mars and the Coen Brothers’ vile Burn After Reading, which left me quaking with anger. Both reviews are now up on About.com.

It took two confirmed classics — and multiple viewings — to restore my faith: Antonioni’s endlessly baffling and beautiful The Passenger and the magical The Thief of Baghdad, one of the first movies I remember seeing. Not a bad way to lick your wounds and shore up resolve for the New York Film Festival, which begins screening for critics on Monday.

Christmas on Mars. Wayne Coyne, 2008. * (Review)
Burn After Reading. Joel and Ethan Coen, 2008. * (Review)
The Passenger. Michaelangelo Antonioni, 1975. *****
The Thief of Baghdad. Michael Powell, 1940. *****

Wild Reeds/Les Roseaux sauvages. André Téchiné, 1994. ****
It Happened One Night. Frank Capra, 1934. ****
Recount. Jay Roach, 2008. ****
The Long Good Friday. John Mackenzie, 1980. ****
Ikiru. Akira Kurosawa, 1952. ****
Hamlet 2. Andrew Fleming, 2008. ***
Autumn/Automne. Ra’up McGee, 2004. ***
Harold & Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay. Jon Hurwitz and Hayden Schlossberg, 2008. ***
Mildred Pierce. Michael Curtiz, 1945. ***
Choke. Clark Gregg, 2008. **
Sukiyaki Western Django. Takashi Miike, 2007. N/R

It’s no secret that I love Star Wars — and not just “the old ones” but all six movies: their mythic scope, their conceptual and visual inventiveness, the cheesy characters and blunt dialogue, the structural complexity, the joy they take in speed and color. Star Wars: The Clone Wars, the all-new animated Star Wars adventure, is a worthy addition to the original six-film cycle, staying true to the spirit of the series while overhauling it in a number of important ways. Read the rest of my review on About.com.

Star Wars: The Clone Wars. Dave Filoni, 2008. ****

Also recently seen:

• Unter den Brücken. Helmut Käutner, 1945. **** (Review)
• Under the Volcano. John Huston, 1984. ****
• The Awful Truth. Leo McCarey, 1937. ****
• Trumbo. Peter Askin, 2007. ***
• La baie des anges. Jacques Demy, 1963. ***
• Greendale. Neil Young, 2003. ***
• Suspiria. Dario Argento, 1977. ****

With The Wire finally out of the way — none of the screeners piling up by the door could possibly compete — I’ll try and quickly catch up with some of the bat-free movies I’ve seen over the last few weeks.

Charlie Bartlett
Warm and funny coming-of-teenage tale about a wealthy kid (Anton Yelchin) who dispenses wisdom and prescription drugs in the public school bathroom and falls for the principal’s daughter (Kat Dennings). Scenes, situations, and jokes seem to have been lifted from Rushmore in their entirety, but Charlie Bartlett’s wry tone owes at least as much to Harold and Maude, which is referenced in a hilarious rendering of “If You Want to Sing Out”. With Hope Davis and Robert Downey Jr.  Jon Poll, 2007. ***

Romance & Cigarettes
I was with John Turturro’s mainly silly, occasionally transcendent musical about a suburban marriage threatened by the man’s flaming passion for a filthy-mouthed red head (Kate Winslet) until the final maudlin twist ruined it for me. With James Gandolfini, Susan Sarandon, Steve Buscemi, Mandy Moore, Christopher Walken, Barbara Sukowa, and Mary-Louise Parker. John Turturro, 2005. **

Wall-E
Cute but overpraised. The wordless first act and the robots’ weightless space dance reach moments of poetry, but when the plot takes over, the movie flattens out into predictable kid’s fare. The puffy, grub-like humans are painful to look at. Andrew Stanton, 2008. ***

Hancock
Did low expectations and the unsuspected pleasure of sneaking into this movie on our way out of Wall-E warp my judgment? Possibly — but I thoroughly enjoyed Hancock’s antics, Jason Bateman’s schmuck shtick, and the revelation of Charlize Theron’s secret — even if I forgot all about it half an hour later. Peter Berg, 2008. ***

Mad Detective (Sun taam)
The title’s the pitch: this time around, Johnny To’s hero is an investigator who, when he goes off his meds, can see people’s “inner personalities.” With his usual economy and panache, To cleverly uses the possibilities of this damaged character for a witty & involving crime story.  Johnny To, 2007. ***

Hotel America (Hôtel des Amériques)
First of the four films in a new André Téchiné (The Witnesses, Strayed, Changing Times) box set we’re very excited about. Set in Biarritz, Hotel America is about a lone woman with a history (Catherine Deneuve) and her amour fou for the shady, needy operator of a bed and breakfast. André Téchiné, 1981. ***

The X-Files: I Want to Believe
Never more than a passing fan of the series, I was nonetheless glad to see David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson on the big screen again. Unlike most critics, I found the film’s modesty admirable — no globe-spanning alien conspiracies here, just a solid, creepy thriller plot and enjoyable interaction between Mulder and Scully. I wasn’t particularly bothered by the admittedly heavy-handed thematic overlay, and while it’s true that most of the film plays like a supersized TV episode, it earned its right to be a movie in the final scenes. Chris Carter, 2008. ***

The Wedding Director (Il Regista di matrimoni)
After a run-in with the law, a famous director ends up in Sicily, where an impoverished Prince hires him to film the wedding of his daughter. At least I think that’s what happens in this intriguing, multi-layered, and surreal movie that felt like the sun-bathed love-child of Lynch and Fellini. Anything that ends in fireworks and features Italian ingenues as beautiful as Donatella Finocchiaro is ok by me. Marco Bellocchio, 2006. ***

Furthermore:
Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog. Joss Whedon, 2008. ****
Fear(s) of the Dark (Peur(s) du noir). Blutch et al, 2007. About.com review coming soon. **
In Search of a Midnight Kiss. Alex Holdridge, 2007. About.com review in the works. ***
Dreams with Sharp Teeth. Erik Nelson, 2008. ***
Charly. Isild LeBesco, 2007. ***
Charly Wilson’s War. Mike Nichols, 2007. **
Grosse Pointe Blank. George Armitage, 1997. ***
The Edge of Heaven (Auf der anderen Seite). Faith Akin, 2007. ****
Battlestar Galactica, Season 4 (half). ****

Like any critic who dared to show themselves less than impressed with Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight juggernaut, I caught a lot of abuse for my dismissive review. Being called a mouth-breathing mountain dweller and a hat-wearing Brooklynite is fine by me, but when my nerd cred was insulted, I knew it was time for a fanboy throwdown: The Dark Knight vs. my favorite film of 2005, George Lucas’s much-maligned pop masterpiece Revenge of the Sith.

Click over to About.com to read why Star Wars beats Batman in every respect — and then I’ll promise to return to your regularly scheduled coverage of art house films, including the lovely In Search for a Midnight Kiss, Johnny To’s Mad Detective, and the much anticipated Fear(s) of the Dark.

Christopher Nolan and Maggie Gyllenhaal just aren’t enough of an indie connection to cover this on Worldfilm, so I’ll just say this here: godawful. Two hours and twenty minutes, a gazillion dollars, a sterling cast, and an eight story IMAX screen weren’t enough for this movie to tickle a single thrill out of me. Instead, endless turgid tripe about vigilante morals, heaps of vicious violence, Gotham City politics that play a little bit like The Wire, only stupid, and muddled action sequences that are — and I say this without hyperbole — duller than the scenes in which Bruce Wayne is having dinner.

What else? Christian Bale doesn’t go anywhere near Rescue Dawn levels of intensity, poor Maggie is wasted, Aaron Eckhart pays for his sins in Thank You for Smoking with a nasty case of Visible Man, Morgan Freeman turns into a FISA-protected wiretapper, and Michael Caine will always be Michael Caine. Heath Ledger’s Joker, a sadistic freak with curious facial ticks, is the most compelling person on screen, but tragedy or not, he can’t beat Jack Nicholson dancing in the pale moonlight to a Prince track.

Tim Burton knew how to have fun with Batman rather than turning it into plodding, puffed-up kitsch mistaking itself for profound psycho noir that the source material won’t support. As Hellboy 2 amply illustrates, there’s nothing wrong with fun — but there’s none to be had here. Previously: Batman Begins.

Prince, Jack, Keaton, Burton:

The Dark Knight. Christopher Nolan, 2008. *

It’s not that I can’t tell a killer whale from a serial rapist — it’s simply that the dumbest puns sometimes amuse most, especially when they offer mild relief for otherwise unbearibly grim tales of doomed love and ill-fated desires. Benten’s fourth DVD release Der Freie Wille (The Free Will) streeted last week (yes, it’s a verb), and my review is up over on About.com.

All half-hearted joking aside, Matthias Glasner’s unflinching look at uncontrollable desires and evil urges is shot, acted, and told with such an uncompromising sense of purpose it’s almost impossible to endure (how’s that for a blurb guaranteed to jack up sales?) The fearless plumbing of the abyss on display here recalls Kinski and Herzog’s Woyzeck.

I’m responsible for the translation of the disc’s commentary track subtitles, a task that required putting each scene on replay loop, and as a result, some of the images and situations seem to have permanently burnt themselves into my subconscious. What did Der Freie Wille do to my free will, and can you blame me for trying to replace tortured Jürgen Vogel, both fists jammed into his parka, with a Disneyfied orca?

Der Freie Wille. Matthias Glasner, 2006. ****