Letters, Labyrinth: Two Reviews

I wasn't going to blog about movies today, but given the bad taste in my mouth still lingering from that crap-tacular comic adaptation, Ghost Rider, I just felt that I had to.

First up is the Japanese-language, Clint Eastwood-directed World War II film, Letters from Iwo Jima. Earlier, I implied how good Eastwood's other World War II film was, and now, I must say, Letters from Iwo Jima blows that one out of the water in every conceivable aspect. The acting is better, the pacing is better, and despite the fact that both are about the same battle, the plot and story are better. It's definitely the cleaner of the two films, feeling much less sloppy than the hash editing that hurt Flags of Our Fathers.

The film follows the Battle of Iwo Jima from the Japanese point-of-view, which turns a story about the so-called villains into a story about a valiant last stand, one full of honor and loyalty. Admittedly, it was a little strange seeing Americans so clearly depicted as the "bad guys," but it was a little refreshing, and more than a tad relevant. As with its sister film, Letters from Iwo Jima follows a select number of characters, revealing their pasts, hopes, and dreams, leading up to the ultimate revelation that our enemies were not so different from us. A great work of art, this film... Eastwood's real World War II masterpiece.

Next is the Mexican film, Pan's Labyrinth. Also set during the era of World War II, but solely focusing on the Spanish Civil War (or rather, its aftermath), the story follows the adventures of a young girl who joins her mother to live with a cruel Spanish officer. While there, the girl discovers a faun living in the middle of what's basically a glorified hedge maze. The faun reveals that the girl is a soul from another world, and that she has to prove her worth to return to that world as a princess. The girl sets off on her adventures, and the audience is given one Hell of a cinematic experience.

Pan's Labyrinth is a gorgeous film, with style, color, light, and music all working together to create a realistic, yet ethereal tone. Part war movie, part horror film, and part fairy tale, it's a breath of fresh air, and a must-see. To give anything else away would be an injustice, so just take my word for it: go see it.

Also go see Zodiac, but I'll rant about that another time...

Battlestar Galactica: Returning to Form? Or Saying Goodbye?

I'm a science fiction geek; most of you know that. And, as such, I happen to really like the SciFi network television series Battlestar Galactica. Generally, it is not only the best science fiction series on the small screen, it is also one of the best drama series on the small screen. Yes, it belongs in the same sentence as House, CSI, Law & Order, Grey's Anatomy, you name it. The human element of the show stands out as one of the most innovative, most relevant, and most well-written. Seriously.

But, therein lies the problem. The show not only follows Humans, but a race of human-created robots known as Cylons. In Battlestar Galactica, the Cylons represent (almost) everything that we as humans hold as evil. The Cylons are genocidal, vengeful, and narrow-minded of purpose. They hold a different religious belief system than that of the humans in the series, which is one of the subtle causes of the war between Humans and Cylons (ironically, it is the Cylons that are monotheistic in the show). Cylons also behave immorally and irresponsibly when conducting scientific research, lacking any discipline or reservation. Anything goes, screw the debate. Of course, this is also the result of irony, as the Cylons were created in much the same manner.

I'm digressing a bit, so let me get right to the point: the show has been sub-par since the absolutely wonderful Season One. In Season Two, the show abandoned its magnificent pacing, forcing its audience to adjust to an extremely variable "passing of time." Also, the show began to explore a distracting, yet compelling, Cylon point-of-view, and revealed the reason for the Cylon "genocide" (the quotes are added because, given the nature of the Cylon scientific experiments, it is no longer clear why the Cylons wanted to annihilate humanity).

The show, in a forced attempt to remain "relevant," tried to get us to care about and perhaps see things from the so-called villain's side of the fence. While this is nice in geo-political theory, this is usually bad for television. Think Lost, whose ratings are suffering as we are introduced to "The Others," once the pinnacle of faceless television villains. For better examples, let's take a look at some high-profile war films. Does anybody remember the Vietnamese segments of We Were Soldiers? Of course not. They were the bad guys, and despite the film's (half-hearted) attempts to humanize them, we just didn't care. Sure, humanizing the enemy in Letters from Iwo Jima worked, but what about in Flags of Our Fathers? No, because Clint Eastwood was smart enough to know that "the enemy" needed its own film, or would have otherwise been too distracting.

At the end of Season Two, the series broke a cardinal rule of screenwriting and jumped "One Year Later." Hoping to draw us in with audience-originated "what happened" questions, the show instead alienated its audience with those same questions. Almost a full-season later, many (if not most) audience questions are still unanswered and we, more than ever, are left with the feeling that we were cheated out of a virtual year's worth of plot and character development. Also, during the early portions of Season 3, the show seemed to become much less about Battlestar Galactica and more about Baseship Cylonica, once again taking us away from the plot and characters that we actually do care about.

Somewhat unsurprisingly, it took NBC Universal more than half of Season 3 to confirm the show would be returning for a Season 4. The catch? Instead of the usual 20 episodes, Season 4 is now currently slated for only 13. Which means that the show could have been given the feared "wrap the story up" ultimatum. Also somewhat unsurprisingly, the renewal announcement came after Season 3 shifted from the Cylon-oriented plot to the much more traditional, much more successful "Humans on the run" plot that made the show such a hit in the first place. If anyone out there thinks this is purely coincidental, you're dead wrong. Even crap shows like the two Stargates lasted so long because they never alienated their audiences. Yes, they're far less profound and relevant than Battlestar Galactica, but they know who they play to, and they keep playing to them.

We started watching the show because we wanted to know about the misguided, but ultimately good, Humans running from the miscreant, and ultimately evil, Cylons. What we have now are the misguided, misaligned Humans running from the misguided, misaligned Cylons. What's worse is that the "stapled-together" Cylon sub-plot only makes them look really, really stupid. And that's not exactly something audiences look for in their uber-villains.

The good news is that the recent episodes of Battlestar Galactica have been a return to form, somewhat, and the show appears to be once again headed in the right direction. Is the rest of Season 3 and what's been allocated for Season 4 enough to save the show? Or are we looking at the beginning of the end of the journey, and will Episode 4.13 indeed have the rag-tag fleet find Earth?

Guess we're going to find out.

The Best World War II Films You Didn't Like

In preparation for going to see Letters From Iwo Jima, I watched Flags of Our Fathers again. Back when it was released theatrically, I called it another Eastwood masterpiece, a subtle one, at that. However, even as I wrote those words, I hated the ending, didn't much care for the editing, and felt it was a bit sloppy. Judging by the box office, it's apparent that much of America was in agreement.

Well, after the second viewing, I still hate the ending, I absolutely adore the editing, but still feel it a bit sloppy. Weird, eh? Some movies just deserve a second chance, and though I liked it initially, I appreciate it even more after a repeat viewing.

Anyway (or is it anyhoo?), I decided to write about three excellent World War II movies that you probably didn't like. Flags of Our Fathers is the first, so there's no need to rehash that here. The second was a victim of bad release timing, and the third is a foreign cartoon.

The Thin Red Line. Terrence Malick's 1998 remake of an obscure 1964 war film. And an absolutely wonderful, masterful, downright phenomenal piece of cinema. But, I know you hated it. Why did you hate it? Well, it had the unfortunate stigma of being released near Steven Spielberg's equally wonderful, masterful, downright phenomenal piece of cinema known as Saving Private Ryan.

Spielberg's film was not only a critical success, it had all the right pieces to be a commercial success, and was. So, the idiots at 20th Century Fox, realizing they could ride a Spielberg-induced World War II wave, decided to market it as a traditional, study-in-violence war film. So, everyone who went to see it theatrically expected a Pacific Theater version of Saving Private Ryan. What they got was a slow, boring, almost banal film in which nothing much happened.

Which is exactly what it was supposed to be. Only a whole ton of things happened in this beautiful, beautiful film. The Thin Red Line was not a war film. It was a film about humanity, set during a war. It was a film focusing on the psychological makeup of men. And what a lesson it taught. For those of you that saw it, hated it, and stated that you would never see it again, do watch it again. This time, rid yourself of everything you expect of a typical war film, and watch this movie with the same eyes you watch The Godfather or Rob Roy with. You'll wind up loving it. Guaranteed. Unless you're a moron.

Grave of the Fireflies. A Japanese cartoon that, at first glance, appears to be one of the famed Studio Ghibli films. It is, however, anything but. Like The Thin Red Line, it is based upon a true story, and is a study of humanity rather than a film focused on the war itself.

Be warned, this is a depressing, depressing movie, but also as beautiful and wonderful as any other movie you've ever seen. Case in point, I made a friend of mine watch it. This friend claimed that no movie had ever made her cry. Well, upon completion of Grave of the Fireflies, she stormed into the other room, slammed the door, and cried for the better part of an hour. This film is that powerful. And it's a cartoon. It also makes several critics' "Best War Movies of All Time" lists, including uber-critic Roger Ebert's. It's also on mine, but that's beside the point.

I won't ruin it for those of you that will actually take the time to see it, but it's well worth the emotional roller-coaster it'll take you on.

Anyhoo (or is it anyway?), I'll let you know what I think of Letters From Iwo Jima by this weekend, I'm sure. Until then, revisit (or visit) the three films above. You'll be doing yourselves a favor.