Director Profile: Takashi Miike

It must have been around 2000 or 2001 when I first saw Takashi Miike's disturbing drama, Audition. As the film reached it's now infamous climax and the credits began to roll soon afterward, I was sitting in cinematic shock. I was not new to gore and oddity in film, not by a long shot, but I had never seen anything quite like this. It has been said that Audition is essentially a build up for the last fifteen minutes and while with your average movie this may be nothing more than hyperbole, it is not so much of a stretch here. Information comes slowly and tidbits of the absolute horror that we will be subjected to are few and quick; the film actually functions much like nothing more than a slightly off-kilter romantic drama until . . . Well, I will not spoil it for you if you have not been lucky enough to see it. Such is the paradox of Takashi Miike: Born in Osaka, Miike turned to film after abandoning his dream to become a motor mechanic. He has famously said to have little care for the artistic side of film making while in turn, he creates some of the most cerebral and visually compelling images ever put on screen. While he is known primarily for his extravagantly stylized violence, almost cartoonishly copious bloodletting and odd idiosyncratic camera style, he is also fully capable of producing thoughtful and vulnerable moments throughout the carnage. Such versatility has led to a voluminous output by the director featuring the serenely subdued The Bird People in China, the children's fantasy film The Great Yokai War and more straightforward and serious crime dramas like Agitator. Family is a driving theme in much of his work, whether family be the kin and relations with whom we share blood, or the friends and associations were surround ourselves with. He deals much with the Yakuza and other criminals, exploring their everyday lives with much scrutiny and candidness, giving us reasons to both hate and love them. But we are never told exactly how to feel about them. Whether they be seemingly decent people, or the dregs of society, Miike always forces us to decide as to the honor of a character. It is honesty such as that which makes the violence and the shock more palpable. A character may be for animal than human and they may push the boundaries of acceptability, but they are always true to who they are. A character will not have redemptive qualities just for the sake of such things. And that is also the reason why he can achieve such beautiful and moving pictures as well. Miike simply makes each particular movie the way he thinks it should be made. However, it just so happens that his vision of direction, will likely be radically different from ours. The thing most respectable about Miike is his uncanny ability to move in two directions at once: up towards commercial acceptance and down further into decoratively taboo extreme-cinema. In the year of 2004, for example, he released to films so thematically and structurally different, one might think they were achieved by two different directors. The first was Zebraman a cleverly written comedy film about the down and out star of a failed superhero TV show called "Zebraman." The surprisingly warm-hearted movie follows and bumbling father of two as he tackles his own personal issues while preparing to stop what may or may not be an alien invasion. The other film was called Izo and is a violent and surrealistic film that follows a recently crucified samurai as he travels through time and space seeking retribution. The movie is titanically violent and disturbing, but underneath it all it is without a doubt making a poignant and philosophical social statement about the never ending cycles of violence and vengeance. You may not always like what you see, but make no mistake, Takashi Miike is both a visionary and an auteur of the highest pedigree.

Classic British Satire: Not the Nine O'Clock News

To be perfectly honest, Not the Nine O'Clock News is not for everyone. Why? It's not politically correct; rather, the creators of the show enthrall in being topical. Innuendos and play on words, often in the form of dirty jokes, are rampant. Some of your favorite songs from the time period will be ripped to pieces. Do heed the warning; if Mock of the Week is bit on the harsh side, this might not be the one for you.

However, if you are familiar with Simon Amstell's biting comments and are admittedly fans of his comedy panel show, then listen away. But question is, will you like Not the Nine O'Clock News? Well, if you love satire, especially the rather blunt British style comedies, this is worth adding to your collection. It's testimony to the creative talents of the creators of the show that 30 years down the line its social and political commentary is still refreshing to watch. And of course, in this show you get to catch famous names of comedy during that early, raw stages of their career.

What's Not the Nine all about?

Not the Nine O'Clock News is a famous sketch show that ran on BBC 2 from 1979 - 1982. It featured a number of excellent comedians, namely Rowan Atkinson, Pamela Stephenson, Mel Smith, Griff Rhys Jones and Chris Langham. Writers for the show included Richard Curtis, Clive Andersen and Andy Hamilton.

The show consisted of sketches, most of which were parodies of pop-culture, news or political figures. This was of course during the time of that well-known Lady with the Iron Fist, Margaret Thatcher, and thus, a number of sketches revolved around her. Other frequently used figures included members the Royal Family and local and international politicians (Ronald Regan, Brezhnev, etc.).

Noteworthy sketches

While almost all the sketches were memorable, some do stand out. The sketch involving a gorilla that had been brought in from the wild was a classic. Rowan Atkinson dressed as the animal in question spoofed the mannerisms and speech of what is deemed as 'civilized' behavior. There was also that completely arbitrary footage of a gentlemen calmly using his snuff box while Margaret Thatcher was earnestly giving a speech. What made it even more bizarre was the fact that it was a televised event and he was sitting right next to her.

Some of the best sketches are the ones that still apply to modern day society. The one involving Constable Savage and his blatant refusal to admit his racism is disturbing and yet, an apt description of a number of people we know today. The piece that spoofs Monty Python's Life of Brian is another brilliant one. It was an interesting take on the validity of real life protesters whereby, in the sketch itself, the writers group up protesters to the Python film with somewhat religious followers of the comedic group.

Not the Nine... also spoofed a number of pop songs of the day. Their take on Abba and the style of music videos that was commonplace to the band made interesting viewing. At some point in the song, the viewer is bound to go “Hang on, Abba did like a lot of extreme closeups of the face, didn't they?”. And while Sheena Easton's Morning Train was quite a catchy song, after watching Not the Nine... you will inevitably end up wondering about that strange shoulder tilt dance move. Not to mention the excellent speech by Rowan Atkinson where he jokes about the somewhat airy lyrics of the song itself.

Not the Nine O'Clock News is a true classic. It paved way for many other news sketch shows and of course, it launched the careers of a talented group of actors.

Anime Friday: Paranoia Agent (part 1)

Up until this week, all the anime I've watched for this project has been in the form of feature-length films. Today's entry, Satoshi Kon's Paranoia Agent, is a short series. At thirteen episodes, it seems tailor made for this kind of analysis. It occurs to me that anime works best when it's serialized, at least usually. Arguably, a series like Dragonball Z would work a lot better as a dense, two hour action piece than the stretched-thin punchline that it is. But when it comes to the serious stuff, the format benefits from a slow burn. Paranoia Agent wouldn't really be able to convey the slow buildup of tension and all-around strangeness that it does if the whole thing were packed into a two hour exercise. Odd as it is for me to say it, this anime rides on subtlety and nuance. The first seven episodes of Paranoia Agent introduce us to a cast of loosely related characters. Each one becomes involved, either as a victim of or an adversary to a mysterious assailant called Shounen Bat (baseball bat boy for you anglophones). Shounen Bat comes out of nowhere on golden rollerblades to crack his victims on the head with a bent metal bat, usually during a moment of extreme stress or despair. Two police detectives, Ikari and Maniwa, get assigned to the case and become increasingly obsessive as the story progresses. Paranoia Agent falls somewhere between Magic Realism and full-blown Surrealism. Sometimes it's blunt, like when a plush toy named Maromi talks to its owner. Other times, these things are easy to miss, like moments when the same plush doll appears to react to a conversation even though it's just flopping around in a backpack. This is the most impressive part of the show. The direction actually takes referential cinematography into account. As the plot of Paranoia Agent unfolds, we find a world on the verge of coming unhinged and a strange case no closer to being solved. Just when it appears the whole thing will be deflated by the capture of a 13-year-old Bat Boy, the weirdness returns with a vengeance when new attacks reveal the runt to be nothing more than a delusional copycat. That particular episode allows Kon to riff on some classic fantasy anime conventions. That doesn't mean the supernatural leaves the plot. In fact, it becomes far clearer an element as we approach the second half. Comprehension: 5/10- Don't be misled by this score. The only reason it's so low is that Paranoia Agent is steeped in Japanese culture, the genuine article at that. I'm lucky in that the version I've been watching not only subtitles accurately, it also throws in a smattering of notes on idiom and common symbols. On top of all this, the story is meant to be surreal and confusing, even if you're Japanese. This is the kind of David Lynch style confusion I actually like. Enjoyment: 10/10- I can honestly say that I've never liked an anime as much as I like Paranoia Agent. It's neither childish nor over the top. The writing is genuinely good, I care about the characters and I'm itching to find out what happens next. If I didn't enjoy this so much, I wouldn't bother splitting the review into two parts. Improvement of Understanding: N/A- I'm going to leave this one until next week. Since the story is still ongoing, I can't really make a judgement call on what kind of statement it's trying to make or how it approaches anime as a genre. For now, things are looking good. I'm certainly learning a lot about Japanese culture and Kon is definitely self-conscious about anime conventions. Next Week:The Conclusion to Paranoia Agent

Chatmonchy

As a rabid collector of music, it is not so odd for me so occasionally purchase albums that simply catch my eye, regardless of if I have previously heard the artist. I would say my success rate in such affairs is at about 50/50 which is not so bad considering what a rewarding experience it can be to take so blind a chance and discover something that I will listen to for many years to come. In the summer of 2006, I took such a chance at a Tower Records in Tokyo, Japan. I had been in country for only a couple of days and had engrossed myself in music magazines and entertainment trades. This was, after all, a perfect place to take chances in that realm as I had almost no deep knowledge of music from the area. The few bands that I did know of had at least some success in the States, however small it may be, but to come across something truly Japanese, with no prior Western success, was my ultimate goal. I soon came across a picture of three young women standing in a field, dressed rather hip and for one reason or another, it reminded me squarely of Sleater-Kinney. And so as my other companions were busy searching for discs by American artists that hadn't yet been released State-Side, I went searching for the band in the picture. That band's name was Chatmonchy. They are a three-piece rock band from the small island of Shikoku off of the southern coast of the main island and they can produce melodious, dance-inducing rock like no other. Their 2006 album Mimi Nari, is dripping with it. The guitars are crisp without sounding overproduced, the bass is thick enough to be felt in your chest with enough space left over for more complicated melodies when needed and the drums pack a wallop as they move with ease between simple dance rhythms and complex syncopation. Eriko Hashimoto's voice is alarmingly petite at first in comparison with American vocalists, but there in lies her strength for she does not let it hinder her, instead belting out harmony with as much passion as she can muster until her voice cracks. Our guide dismissed it as J-Pop, mainstream pop rock, but I have to disagree. While they do call Sony Music Japan home, their songs are full of far more fits and spasms than anything I have heard come out of the corporate works on this side of the water. If they ever did make it here, I believe they would remain just enough on the fringe gain respect from both the indie rock and mainstream crowds. Since discovering them in 2006, I have followed them as closely as I can but finding stores that will bring in their albums has been difficult and I have shelled out some serious money for imports. Their output has mostly been in the form of singles, one of my favorites being "Shangrila," an infectious, uptempo dance-fest that follows the kinds of interrupted time signatures that I adore. But 2007 did see the release of another album titled Seimeiryoku that can actually be found on Amazon for a hefty price. February 4th of this year will see the release of another single, "Last Love Letter," which will we available on their website and as far as I can tell, the next album will be released March 4th and be titled Kokuhaku. I eagerly await their arrival in the US, but I have yet to hear of such plans. My hopes had been raised ever so slightly by their initial push on myspace, but they have since dropped from the site as far as I can tell and I am once again resigned to the fact that I must travel to Japan if I ever want to see them. sigh.

Storm Riders

Some people argue that watching a foreign film is not unlike catching the public transport to the park. After all, those few hours seem to drag on forever, you wonder if this trip worth all that effort just get a glimpse of nature's finest and you know someone is bound to retell a depressing life story at some point during the ride/movie. Well, suffice it to say that not all foreign films are like that. Take for instance Storm Riders. An immensely popular fantasy flick made in Hong Kong, it boasted three vital elements that had all self-respecting gamers queuing up for tickets - well choreographed battle scenes, characters with magical abilities and epic story telling. Made in 1998 and inspired by a famous Chinese comic book (Fung Wan), the story was typical of the wuxia genre - powerful, larger-then-life warriors standing up to an evil regime. This particular movie, while bemoaned by comic book fans as an annoying deviation of the original plot line, was critically acclaimed by many. It won numerous awards and some claimed it to be a landmark movie where special effects were concerned. Gist of the story The story goes that the land in question is ruled by Lord Conquer (Sonny Chiba) and he was the type of ruler that can be best described with adjectives like "unbelievably cruel" and "dastardly evil". The power hungry Lord discovers, through his trusty prophet, that there might be two children, Cloud and Wind, who can overthrow his comfortable lifestyle. Following an immense blood-bath, which by the bye was approved by his Lordship, the two children are recruited as his minions. And in spite of the Lord's concerted efforts to brainwash and manipulate them, Cloud and Wind, start to rebel. All this despite the ruler's back-up plan which involved his daughter, the rather unfortunately named Charity, playing the love game with both heroes. Blood-fests, epic battles and intense moments later, it is time for the final confrontation. What's to like about this movie This movie is a must-see for fans of the fantasy genre. While it may not involve elves and dwarves and other D&D inspired classes, this story is rich with its own cultural references. And contrary to some criticisms of Ekin Cheng's (Wind's) abilities, both Ekin and Aaron Kwok (Cloud) portrayed impressive depth in their acting abilities. Ekin depicted the quiet, brooding one rather well while Aaron was angst-filled in a manner similar to teenagers driving fast cars. The plot line is typical of most comic books - a main story intertwined with numerous sub-plots. It has its appeals as this introduces a variety of supporting actors. Most importantly, there are the fun fighting scenes.

France Gall and April March

In 1964 at the tender age of 16, a Parisienne named Isabelle donned the moniker "France Gall" and used her family's music industry background to chart a hit single, "Ne sois pas si bête". The next year, she teamed up with the legendary Serge Gainsbourg and became a European sensation, especially after winning the 1965 Eurovision song contest with "Poupée de cire, poupée de son". Her partnership with Gainsbourg produced a number of hits, not the least of which was the double-entendre laden "Les Sucettes", a song with more than just a few references to oral sex. In fact, much of Gall's early career is filled with unintentionally controversial tracks. By the late 60's, she departed for a much more stable career in Germany with the likes of composer Werner Muller and performer Horst Buchholz. After the fertile German period, France Gall had a shaky set of years back in her home country. She spent a lot of time hiding away in Senegal rather than pushing against the pop culture backlash of the music scene. By 1974, Gall bounced back with the help of songwriter Michel Berger. The two had more than just creative chemistry. They were romantically involved until Berger's death in 1992 and had two children together. Aside from her up-and-down musical career, France Gall occasionally graced the screen and took part in humanitarian projects. These days she's a representative for Coeurs de Femmes, a charity for homeless women. She also occasionally releases a new recording, her latest being from 2004. While France Gall has been fairly widely known throughout Europe for 40 years, she rarely ever sang in English so she never really charted for very long or very high in America. That doesn't mean Gall doesn't have a presence here. In fact, she made a pretty significant impact on one particular member of US pop culture. A renaissance woman by the name of Elinor Blake took more than just a passing interest in France Gall and the entire yeye pop movement of the 1960's. After performing in a punk band and enjoying a stint as the chief animator for The Ren and Stimpy Show, Blake started recording independent music under the name April March. As April, she puts out a new album now and then with a mix of French and English songs. One of April March's earliest and best-known songs is "Chick Habit", featured in two films. It first appeared in the opening sequence of the campy cult classic But I'm a Cheerleader starring Natasha Lyonne, then it was later used in Quentin Tarantino's Death Proof. "Chick Habit" is actually a cover/translation of France Gall's "Laisse tomber les filles". The original song is full of French idiom and clever wordplay. April March translated it for "Chick Habit" in the same spirit, using a number of American expressions to convey the same concept. In its own roundabout way, careful and loving translation of pop nuggets is often the best bridge between two different cultures. None of us are so worldly that a little push in the right direction by a more familiar performer isn't helpful. Without April March a lot of Americans (including myself) wouldn't know about France Gall and the fun, slinky pop music of Europe in the 1960's.

Anime Friday: Kite

In last week's edition of Anime Friday, I mentioned that I needed a break from the cute, family-friendly stuff. I asked that my pool of Japanophiles recommend me a film from the opposite end of the spectrum. The result was an ill-informed decision to eat dinner while watching Yasuomi Umetsu's 1998 experiment in extremes, Kite. Few animes have been cut or outright banned as frequently as Kite. In China and Norway it's just plain illegal, and Germany is the only country outside Japan where you can get a legitimate uncensored copy. All the same, Kite isn't just a series of intense, unrelated scenes of sex and violence. It's close to that, but there still is a plot. The story (thin as it is) revolves around Sawa, a young girl who has been turned into a relentless assassin by a vigilante police detective named Akai and his sick friend Kanye who works as a coroner. To say that Akai and Kanye are corrupt is putting it lightly. It's revealed fairly early on that Akai killed Sawa's family, though for unknown reasons. Young Sawa doesn't know this, so she believes Akai when he promises to track down her parents' murderer in exchange for her services as an assassin and as his own personal sex slave. Let it be said that there is only one moment of subtlety in the entire sixty minutes of Kite and if I described it here I would ruin the ending. The rest of the film is little more than gratuitousness for its own sake. All the violence in Kite is ultra-violence. All the sex is rape. The question I had through most of the film is whether Umetsu is a dirty, tactless hack or some kind of giggling, post-modern agitator. I believe I got my answer in the single most spectacular, over-the-top scene in the movie. Following a particularly ridiculous fight sequence in a men's room, we find Sawa and one of her target's bodyguards tumbling to earth from a high floor in a skyscraper. The requisite mid-air gunplay ensues. Then, with aching deliberateness, Sawa positions her opponent in such a way as to cushion her own landing. That landing occurs on top of a car stuck in traffic on a highway bridge. The force of the collision causes Sawa, the bodyguard, and indeed the entire car to bust through the concrete bridge, landing on a truck. At this point most directors would end the scene, or at least change the pacing. Even in a cartoon the audience has a limit on suspension of disbelief. Maybe that's exactly why Umetsu keeps things going in the most ridiculous fashion possible. The truck, just like the car before it, falls through the street and into a subway station where the wreck promptly explodes as if the whole thing had been wired with C4. The blast sends Sawa careening through the window of a far-off department store where she lands on, of all things, a nicely made bed. If there was any doubt that Umetsu made Kite for any reason other than his own feverish glee, that scene would banish it. All the graphic rape scenes, all the bodies riddled with exploding bullets, all the punks kicking old ladies in elevators; they're all just Yasuomi Umetsu's idea of a prank on anime and those who watch it. The film is so focused on setting up sickening money shots that everything else, from logic to the physical continuity of a scene, take a back seat. It doesn't matter that a public bathroom in Kite temporarily stretches to warehouse-like proportions, just as long as it makes the extended jump-kick more pronounced. Comprehension: 10/10- There's nothing to be confused about here. Kite is as blunt as blunt can be. There are no cultural references a Westerner wouldn't immediately grasp, no symbols, and only one off-screen inference. The whole point of this movie is to make the viewer look at all of this ugliness head-on. Enjoyment: 3/10- Kite is not meant to be enjoyed by the vast majority of people alive today. For a sick subset of un-shockable individuals, this film is Casablanca. For the rest of us, the nauseating offenses of nearly every frame can only be appreciated in the academic sense. The only reason this is getting higher than a 1 is because of the car/truck/collapsing roadway scene. I liked the nod from Umetsu and the obvious Hollywood caricature. Improvement of Understanding: 9/10- In a strange turn of events, Kite helped me grasp anime as an art more than any other film I've watched so far. There are plenty of instances where it seems to be making fun of the less obvious conventions of anime. Even though they're killers, the movie's love interests are accompanied by plinky, sentimental piano. When Sawa falls, she screams loud and long. I suppose it just took an anime director who has a certain contempt for the style to get me to understand that anime is like any popular art. It is wrought with conventions, strict forms and predictable approaches. Next Week: Paranoia Agent

Coupling UK vs. US

In 2000, Steven Moffat's cleverly-written comedy Coupling first aired on BBC2. The show had a 4-series run and was extremely well-received. It tested so well, in fact, that American television network NBC attempted a remake of Coupling in 2003. The US version failed spectacularly despite a significant cult following of the British version in the States. At one point, BBC America aired two episodes of Coupling UK every night. The American Coupling used scripts that were nearly word-for-word to its UK counterpart, so why did it fail to capture an audience? A lot of critics blamed the casting choices for the show's failure, saying that the US cast was amateurish by comparison. While the UK version's cast was really a stellar ensemble of talented comedians, the US cast had a lot with which to compete. The scripts may have been the same, but there were still a lot of changes in the overall atmosphere of the show. Underneath odd cases like the different versions of Coupling is that old discussion of the differences between American and British humor. It's the standard snobby argument to call British humor more sophisticated than American humor, but that really isn't the case. Comedy is a reaction to a given culture's idiosyncrasies. By using a British script and attempting to emulate characters that are funny in the context of British culture, Coupling US made itself tone-deaf to American cultural humor. Compare the opening scenes of the first episode of both versions. UK US The UK "Steve" character is believable whereas the US version is not for two reasons. First, the UK scene is directed to follow a classic straightman/goof dynamic. Steve UK isn't exaggerated, he's pretty much a normal guy. The US version is directed to be far more animated, even cartoonish. He's not the straightman, which diminishes the humor of the Jane character's goofiness. Secondly, the UK Steve's predicament is funny because of the common British target of humor: Manners. Brits perceive their culture to be stiff and overly focused on etiquette. So, a comedy about sex and relationships is almost inherently funny in the UK context because it's based on topics that are very personal and make people uncomfortable. American culture is different. We perceive our culture to be a less mannered, more irreverent one. Steve US isn't in a funny situation because an American version of Steve wouldn't sit there trying to make Jane understand that he's dumping her, he would probably just call her crazy and then leave. Certainly, Coupling US was poorly executed, but with the essential cultural issue there's some debate as to whether or not it could have been good with a better cast and more astute direction. What's truly strange is that even the UK Coupling has its inspirational roots in American media. Without a doubt, Coupling UK would not exist without Friends, which itself was just an American comedy about sex and relationships. In fact, Friends was quintessentially American, that's why it was on American television for a decade. Furthermore, Coupling UK had decades' worth of sitcom formats to subvert, formats devised and implemented by American TV shows. Had the writers and producers at NBC taken the influence of Coupling UK to make a clever, structurally unique show with American audiences in mind, perhaps something better than Coupling US would have resulted.

Anime Friday: Howl's Moving Castle

Hello, everyone. Welcome to another edition of "Anime Friday". This week, my study continues with another film by Hayao Miyazaki, Howl's Moving Castle. Right off the bat, I feel like I'm kinda cheating with this movie. It's based on a book by Diane Wynn Jones and it definitely shows its Western influences. Also, I watched the dubbed version of the movie because it features so many famous voices. Christian Bale lends his pipes to the title character, while Emily Mortimer voices our protagonist, Sophie. In the most bizarre turn, Billy Crystal voices Calcifer, the fire demon keeping the castle functioning. I didn't realize until Howl's how similar Billy Crystal's voice is to that of James Woods. I believe that this movie would be significantly better if Woods had somehow been involved, but I say that about a lot of movies. Howl's Moving Castle takes place in a semi-magical steam age world that looks to be cross between southern France and provincial Japan. Sophie, an 18-year-old hat maker, runs afoul of a morbid magician called The Witch of the Waste, voiced by none other than Lauren Bacall. The Witch curses Sophie with the body of a very old woman. Strangely, Sophie doesn't seem to mind as much as one might think. She half-heartedly wanders into the magical wilderness to find a way to reverse the spell, which lands her in the titular mobile domicile, which is really just a normal-sized house surrounded by machinery. Meanwhile, a vague war erupts between two equally vague kingdoms, ostensibly over the alleged kidnapping of a prince. Until the film's conclusion, that war remains mostly background noise. I'm pretty thankful for that. Through a series of interesting developments, the castle becomes home to a bizarre rendition of the nuclear family. Powerful but immature wizard Howl straddles a role between father and son, while Sophie fluctuates between being Howl's mother and would-be lover. The Witch of the Waste, stripped of her powers and returned to her natural age, fits into the senile grandmother role very nicely. It never stops being funny when she comments, "Oh, such a pretty fire." A young apprentice named Markl occupies the obligatory little kid slot in the family, which leaves Calcifer as the weird uncle. This is all further complicated by the flux of Sophie's curse. She slides up and down a spectrum of age, though what causes her to do this is never explained. I'm actually pretty glad we never get a direct explanation for why this happens. Too many anime stories involve some meaningless talisman or an extremely corny emotional reason for the magic whatsit that drives the plot. The fact that there's no Black Gem of Ultimate Power to break or True Love for Sophie to achieve in order to break her curse is nice. Instead, her apparent age changes with her frame of mind. She's only old when she's resigned. Of course, all this nuance goes out the window when we reach the film's conclusion. It all wraps up very neatly in a record amount of time while some things aren't explained at all. For a story that manages to be so imaginative and mercifully subtle with magic, the ending just runs out of steam (no pun intended) and leaves us with an almost insulting Happily Ever After. Final Assessment Comprehension: 9/10- I knew what was going on most of the time. When I didn't, it was because some bizarre magic was happening and the regular rules of logic didn't apply anyway. Enjoyment: 6/10- It was occasionally clever, but Howl's mostly played like a standard Disney outing. The ending still grates on me and I have no idea why Miyazaki thought it was necessary to anime-ify the source material. For my own sake, I'm gonna have to take a break from the cute stuff in lieu of anime's darker, more violent side. Improvement of Understanding: 8/10- Strangely, as much as I didn't dig this movie, it opened my eyes to a pretty big theme in anime. A lot of it is Japanese interpretation of Western culture. Westernization has always been a big conflict in Japan. Anime shows how East and West often mix oddly and result in massive weirdness. I'll keep that in mind for the rest of the project. Next Week: Kite

Love Actually: British or American?

Love Actually is a strange beast of a film. It straddles various definitions in such a way that it falls into multiple categories without necessarily fitting into any of them. Is it a Christmas movie or just a movie that takes place on and around Christmas? Is it a comedy or a drama? Does it feature an ensemble cast or is it really more a series of small-cast vignettes? And, for our purposes today, is it a British film or an American film? Written and directed by Richard Curtis, Love Actually has a cast and production team that causes it to lean toward the British end of the spectrum. Aside from the overwhelmingly British cast, Curtis himself has been behind more than a few projects that are more easily classified. His hand was in the script for The Girl in the Cafe and even some of Rowan Atkinson's Blackadder series. Then again, Curtis also penned much of Notting Hill and both movies in the Bridget Jones series. In the case of those latter two, we get the basis for the argument that Love Actually is, ahem, actually an American film. Both Notting Hill and the Bridget Jones outings were basically American-style movies with British accents. They followed standard American rom-com structures using actors that are extremely familiar to American audiences. In the case of Bridget Jones the lead role even went to an American actress, Renee Zellweger. The cast of Love Actually is also full of familiar faces, at least mostly. American audiences have known Alan Rickman since Die Hard and have spent plenty of time with Hugh Grant, Emma Thompson and Liam Neeson. At the time, Keira Knightley was pretty much unknown to US audiences, at least those who hadn't gone to little indie theaters to see Bend It Like Beckham, but there's no doubt that Knightley was selected for her Hollywood-level star potential. The same could be said for the then-underexposed Chiwetal Ejiofor. Still, others in the cast had essentially zero exposure in the States with no prospect outside of Love Actually to remedy that. Kris Marshall, who plays the goofy Colin Frissell, is a sitcom standard in England but nobody west of Ireland is going to see much of him without a subscription to BBC America. In this straddler of a movie, there are even some straddling actors. Colin Firth, Bill Nighy and Martin Freeman have all become well-known State-side, even if they began as quintessentially English actors. But what really makes me question whether or not we can call Love Actually a British film is its structure. A collaboration between the very European Studio Canal and the very American Universal Studios, Love Actually has all the high-budget gloss of an American blockbuster. It goes to great lengths, however shiny, to subvert the predictable storytelling of American romantic comedies. Its genius is in the fact that Love Actually is composed of the plots of about a dozen insufferable movies, the scraps of which have been sewn together to make one fairly stunning movie. Multiple gushy romances, dire heartbreakers, sappy family stories and one goofy sex comedy (just for good measure) make up the tapestry-style screenplay. Some of those plots, like the father-son thread with Liam Neeson and precocious cupid-victim Thomas Sangster, are obviously American in approach. Others, most notably the painful infidelity drama with Rickman and Thompson, could only be British films were they drawn out to feature-length. So, what is Love Actually? Is it British enough to call it a foreign film? Sort of. The key, I believe, is in Curtis's opening monologue. In it, he references September 11th and how it changed the world. While I'm not cynical enough to think that nobody outside the United States cared about 9/11, I do think the majority of its cultural impact took place in America. By referring to our most prominent national tragedy, Richard Curtis is directly addressing us, his American audience. Love Actually isn't exactly an American movie. Or rather, it isn't an American movie made by Americans. Love Actually is a British movie made by British people as a sort of gift to American audiences. However subversive it is with its rearrangement of American movie archetypes, it does so lovingly, not bitterly. This is a present in film form designed by Richard Curtis to bring smiles back to a downtrodden American audience, using modes that audience knows and loves. I honestly don't believe Love Actually could have been done by an American writer or a predominantly American cast. it's foreign, but it's in our language.

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