Posted on by chasinvictoria

The Super Mario Bros. Movie (2023)

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Dirs: Aaron Horvath, Michael Jelenic
52-film challenge, film 28

As an adult, I can see a few problems here and there that I will of course comment on momentarily — but basically your kids will probably love this, as will most teens and adults that are old enough to remember Donkey Kongand Super Mario Brothers games they played as a kid. This is the first kid‘s film I’ve seen in a long time that I think children will wear out the Blu-ray of from repeated viewings.

You can safely forget any previous attempts at bringing these characters to life in a film, especially that 1993 thing — this one gets it right for the first time. As far as current-generation Mario fans are concerned, this film is damn near perfect — and its biggest flaw, if you can call it that, is that is so busy packing in references that the story sometimes takes a back seat to other events, and that’s okay.

The movie represents a huge jump in quality from the previously third-rate Illumination animation firm, thanks to a wealth of pre-designed characters and an obviously huge software upgrade. Up till now I have pretty much loathed everything they’ve done, particularly Despicable Film (my title for it) and the introductions of the incredibly lazy (and Pixar-“inspired”) Minions. It was like their mission was to make children stupider via inducing attention-deficit disorder.

I’ve seen some reviews from adults that the movie is still too superficial and fast-paced, but in part thanks to Illumination’s previous work, that’s what kids want. Besides, the “lore” of this movie is very well-established in the video games, so there’s no need to go over all that, you just accept the situation and welcome Mario and Luigi’s extended family. Directors of Batman and/or Superman movies, pay attention.

Since I also am an adult — most of the time — I also have a few minor criticisms, but before I get to that the first thing that should be said is that this is what kids/family cartoon computer animation should look like if your name isn’t Pixar/Disney: Incredibly colourful, true-to-the-characters design, followed through for new/additional characters, gorgeous locations, and of course — very little regard for the laws of physics.

The biggest letdown for me was that Mario and Luigi didn’t retain their “fauxtalian” accents throughout the movie, but I can also see how that might offend real-world Italians if they did it through the entire film. This is explained in the film as being exaggerated for the purposes of a TV commercial the brothers make (so you do indeed get to hear Mario say “it’s-a me!”), but except for occasionally remembering to say “Mama Mia,” and of course “Woohoo” a lot, mostly it sounds like Chris Pratt being a New Yorker.

Charlie Day as Luigi does a better job, but the movie is stolen voice-wise by the far-better-cast Jack Black as Bowser, Anya Taylor-Joy as Princess Peach, Keegan-Michael Key as Toad, and Seth Rogan and Fred Armisen as the two main Donkey Kong characters.

Considering many of these characters started off as pixelated bits, the character design is excellent, and instantly “feels” like this is the way the characters should look, even though technically they only got to this point through generations of iteration as the console game technology improved. Likewise, this is a level of background and “set” work we have never seen from Illumination previously, and even the jokes work most of the time.

Princess Peach and Toad prepare for the big race

The film starts off in what passes for “the real world” and, after a funny scene of the brothers failing as real-world plumbers on their first big job, they discover a pipe that leads to what we’ll call Mario World with the characters we know and love. The rest of the movie builds out from the premise of Bowser wanting to marry Princess Peach by force, threatening the peace of the various kingdoms and Mario (& Luigi, who has a much smaller role of mostly being the victim that needs rescuing) arrive just in time to help the Princess and her people fight back.

In short, this movie is one I’ve rated highly because it absolutely achieves what it sets out to do, which is to flesh out Mario World, establish the underlying lore, and defeat the enemy, and looks good doing it. The frantic pacing will perhaps annoy some adults, but there are plenty of reference-checks for us Mario veterans to appreciate, especially if you loved Mario Racing. It’s no classic film-wise, but it will absolutely take its place as a go-to kids’ movie the whole family can enjoy.

Posted on by chasinvictoria

The Color of Pomegranates (1969, dir. Sergei Parajanov)

⭐️⭐️⭐️½
52-week film challenge, film 25

With most commercial movies, you can walk into the cinema not needing to know much about the subject and still enjoy (or hate) them, either because they explain the story within the film or some portion of needed background knowledge is communicated to you through the promotion or trailer or title of the film. Most movies touch on universal themes in their tales, or reference moments in time that are reflective of those periods, and what I’m trying to say here is that most of us have some frame of reference heading into a given film.

Not so much with The Color of Pomegranates. I watched this thing completely cold. Big mistake. After viewing it, I then had to go back and watch no less than five short documentaries about it to really get a fix on what the hell it was I’d seen.

So why did I watch it at all? Because it kept showing up on Sight & Sound’s list of some of the greatest movies ever made, that’s why. If you’ve seen another such film, the unconventional sci-fi flick La Jetée, this might remind you of it in its unconventional, idiosyncratic presentation — but that’s where the comparison ends.

With as many films as I’ve watched at this point (hundreds, maybe even a thousand), it’s pretty shocking when one comes along that throws me a complete curveball. Not an unpleasant shock, mind you; more intriguing than annoying. This is a really innovative and thus important use of film as art, but if you don’t have the aforementioned frame of refererance to understand where it’s coming from, it’s pretty bewildering for its hour and 20-minute run time.

So what we have here is an attempt by director Sergei Parajanov to illustrate the life and times of a heroic 18th-century Armenian poet, who went by the name Sayat-Nova (though he was born as Harutyun Sayatyan). To give you the shortest possible backstory, he was mostly an ashugh — a poet and bard who recites or sings their poetry while accompanying themselves on an instrument; similar to a troubadour. He remains a very influential cultural figure in Armenian history, though he is celebrated also in the countries of Georgia and Azerbaijan, since he spoke and composed in all three languages, and wandered freely among them.

What Parajanov did that makes this film so flummoxing to anyone not steeped in both Armenian culture as well as the dominant Catholicism in that region of the world is that he didn’t attempt any sort of conventional narrative film structure at all. Instead, Parajanov attempts to illustrate “the mind of the poet” through a series of active tableaux, some virtually still and others in motion, illustrating ideas and motifs taken from both Sayat-Nova’s life as well as his compositions. Living photographs, dripping with symbolism but also reminding me of artful dreams.

So you kinda have to take at least a crash-course on this tri-national folk hero and his writings before any of this is imbued with meaning. Thankfully, Parajanov does follow the life of Sayat-Nova pretty much linearly, starting with his birth and going to through to the end of his life, utilizing his own visual symbology to accompany Sayat-Nova’s own poetic metaphors and allegories.

The areas covered include Childhood, Youth, the Prince’s Court (where Sayat-Nova falls in love for the first time), The Monastery, The Dream, Old Age, The Angel of Death, and Death. There are title cards that let you know where you are in his life story, but again you still need to have a knowledge and appreciation of Sayat-Nova’s life and work to translate what you are seeing.

So what are you seeing? Artfully-created scenes, usually without dialogue at all, of actors dressed in beautiful Aremenian costumes, posed or interacting with other symbolic objects. Many are shot on a box-like set meant to represent Armenian illuminated miniatures, which are little hand-crafted, three-dimensional picture boxes. It would seem dreadfully pretentious if it wasn’t all so earnest.

There is sound throughout, and some singing later on, and as the subject of the film moves into adulthood, the film relies more heavily on location shooting around various ancient monasteries in the three countries where Sayat-Nova mostly lived, including the one where he spent the last 20 years of his life (and where he is buried).

As an almost unique cinematic language, Parajanov should get five stars, but I originally deducted two of them for a couple of reasons. The fifth star went for having to know so very much backstory before you should even be allowed to watch this film — let’s just say it wasn’t intended for the wider distribution it eventually got. The fourth star was removed for the lack of clues as to how to interpret what you’re seeing — there’s no explanation at the beginning that Sayat-Nova’s story will be told in visual metaphors and allegories, only that the film is about him.

One of the most striking images in the film, and that’s saying a lot because there are many memorable images in this film.

I put a half-star back because, despite the requirements to understand the film, a story about a poet of such influence probably should be told in an unconventional way. Once you finally understand what Parajanov is doing, and what some of the symbolism means, it still doesn’t make full sense, but you appreciate much better the use of a completely different visual “language” within this visual medium.

Thankfully, I discovered after screening the film that the Criterion Channel has what they call a “collection” to go with the movie, including a commentary track on the film which I will avail myself of if I ever re-watch it, and the previously-mentioned documentaries that range from a profile of the director, to a potted history of Sayat-Nova, to a literal “decoding” video to help with the translation of the visual imagery.

It must be said that those documentaries helped me enormously in moving from “what the hell was that?” to an appreciation for the unconventional way I learned a lot about the central subject, his poetry, his background, and some core Armenian-Georgian-Azerbaijanian history and cultural influence, both from Sayat-Nova and his religion of choice. My brain feels bigger now.

It turns out the film was originally titled simply Sayat-Nova, but the title was changed when Russian censors thought the style of filmmaking was a little too difficult, though they only cut a small portion of the film and rearranged a few scenes. Indeed, Parajanov was later jailed by the Russians for his later work.

That said, pomegranates do indeed contribute meaningful metaphors that are less difficult to understand, especially in the clever use of their blood-red juice. I did not know until afterwards that the flow of the juices in some white-linen tabletop scenes are deliberately controlled to “draw” a map of the region, and in other instances to make a commentary on sexual desire, and on war.

As glad as I am to have been challenged in this way, and to have seen a film this unusual, I find it very difficult to recommend it to most others. I can think of a few academic friends (and one particular Russian history buff I know) who might be interested, but this is absolutely not a film the average person not familiar with that region of the world would want to just put on because one enjoys the aforementioned fruit.

Posted on by chasinvictoria

The Thief of Bagdad (1940, multiple directors)

⭐️⭐️⭐️½
52-week film challenge, film 24

I had previously seen clips from this version of the story, but never saw the entire film until now. I have to say I like it a great deal less than the 1924 version with Douglas Fairbanks (Senior), but this first colour production was a huge technological achievement for its time, even though — what with the breakout of World War II, and no less than five directors, along with various other issues — this version is mostly successful at what it sets out to do, but is also a bit of a hot mess.

You have to respect the ground-breaking effects (including the first use of what is now called Chromakey), the brilliant sets, the beautiful location photography (a mix of London and California, the latter being used after the war broke out), the lovely set pieces, and the gorgeous three-strip Technicolour process. It won Academy Awards for cinematography, art direction, and special effects, and was nominated for its music (the latter by the great Miklós Rózsa after a false start by Oscar Straus).

Because of the various problems during production, original director Ludwig Berger and Berger’s choice of composer (Straus) were eventually replaced primarily by Michael Powell. Powell also had to leave the production before its completion due to the war, and American Tim Whelan directed nearly all of the latter half’s outdoor scenes in California with assistance from the Korda brothers. You can already see why the film, as entertaining and gorgeous as it turned out, doesn’t always hang together.

The story, which has also gone by the name Aladdin and variations thereof for many film versions, was first made into a film in 1905 and across the 20th century (and into the 21st, with Disney’s live action remake of its own 1992 animated Aladdin). The core story is often said to be drawn from the medieval collection of Middle Eastern tales known as One Thousand and One Nights, but this is somewhat inaccurate. The Aladdin tale specifically (along with the Ali Baba tales) was added to the collection from other sources by the 17th-century European translator of the tales, Antoine Galland.

Producer Alexander Korda was inspired to do this movie by the 1924 silent version, but changed the story pretty substantially — as just one example, making the thief and the King two separate characters. If you don’t know the 1924 version like I do, this is a mostly-successful telling that tries to combine some variations of the tale into a coherent whole, and mostly does it quite well.

It is certainly a fine family film with enough fantasy to hold its audience even now, though I’m very glad they changed direction from its intended “full blown musical” idea. Three songs are still in the film, but apart from Abu’s solo song, they don’t disrupt the story.

The film opens brilliantly, as a blind beggar in ancient Basra along with his faithful dog companion tells the first part of the film’s tale in flashback. He tells of a young and naive King Ahmad of “Bagdad” (John Justin), who wants to learn more about the people he rules, so he is persuaded to go undercover by his evil Grand Vizier, Jaffar ((the great Conrad Veidt, who completely steals every scene he’s in).

King Ahmad (John Justin) and Jaffar (Conrad Veidt), his Grand Vizier

Once Ahmad is out of the castle and pretending to be a humble beggar, Jaffar has him arrested, and thrown in prison — later telling the people that Ahmad died, so Jaffar can claim the throne. Ahmad meets a young thief while in his cell called Abu (played by then 15-year-old Sabu Dastagir, who just went by “Sabu” in his film career).

Abu, a carefree youth, disbelieves his cell mate is the king at first, but befriends Ahmad — and pickpocketed the key to the cell so they could escape. They flee to Basra, where Ahmad spots the princess (June Duprez) and immediately falls in love with her. However, Jaffar is also in Basra and trying to win the Princess through other means — flattering her father, the Sultan (Miles Malleson, also one of the writers of the film), with life-size toys — the Sultan’s obsession. Malleson is another highlight, a wonderfully child-like old man played to perfection.

Jaffar seals the deal by giving the Sultan a mechanical flying horse, but in the meantime the princess and Ahmad have met, and the attraction is now mutual and she escapes the palace. Enraged, Jaffar uses his magical powers to blind Ahmad, and turn Abu into a dog. The princess is recaptured, but falls into “a deep sleep” and cannot be awakened.

You can see here how the Chromakey stuff is VERY primitive and doesn’t always match well.

Ahmad, still blind, is eventually tricked into returning to the palace, where he awakens the princess, and is then dismissed, along with his dog Abu. We return to the dock where we first met them, as he concludes his story — but the adventure quickly continues as the Princess is tricked into boarding Jaffar’s ship.

Now a prisoner, Jaffar tells her that his curses on Ahmad and Abu can only be lifted by her embracing him, which she very reluctantly does out of love for Ahmad. The spells are lifted, and Ahmad spots her and sets after the ship along with the now-human-again Abu. Jaffar sees them a bit later, and raises a storm that shipwrecks their small dinghy, then returns to Basra and uses a mechanical dancing goddess toy to kill the Sultan before returning to Baghdad.

He does TRY to woo Princess Noname, but ultimately has to resort to threats and hypnosis, of course.

Meanwhile, by sheer lucky coincidence, Abu finds a bottle on the deserted beach and opens it, revealing a very temperamental and gigantic genie (Rex Ingram). Ingram handles the role as best he can, but he’s just not very convincing — and the effects regarding the size differences between him and Abu, though imaginative, aren’t generally carried off well enough to continue the suspension of disbelief.

The scaling effects work reasonable well, but Genie’s performance is uneven (and you should see his toenails! Ayieee!)

Still, the influence of this film on later filmmakers like Ray Harryhausen simply cannot be overstated — this is the blueprint he and others followed for decades to come when it came to imaginative tales of fantasy. In addition to Harryhausen, Terry Gilliam’s best films are also clearly influenced by this movie.

The genie helps Abu steal a magical jewel from a faraway temple (with a Keystone Kops-esque guard squad) that helps him find and reunite with Ahmad, all of which is really well done. Abu and Ahmad use the jewel to see Jaffar hypnotizing the Princess to forget her love for Ahmad, and our hero loses hope and angers Abu — until Abu accidentally uses his third and final wish to send Ahmad back to Baghdad.

Abu then breaks his giant jewel out of anger, which introduces a handy plot device to get him also back to Baghdad via a flying carpet (very well done compared to the flying horse effects), the appearance of which triggers the population into overthrowing Jaffar, who is then killed by Abu, restoring Ahmad to power and allowing him to marry the Princess, who never did get an actual name.

Abu is offered the position of Grand Vizier to King Ahmad, but shuns any form of responsibility, re-steals the flying carpet, and heads out to more adventure. Everyone laughs, and the film concludes happily. You can almost forget how bad Sabu’s song was (he was otherwise generally excellent).

The flying carpet sequences, both in Chromakey and physical effects, work much better.

In its day, the film was a wonder and did very well at the box office. It maintains a good reputation (now as a children’s movie) to this day.

This version of The Thief of Bagdad was the template for most future special-effects-heavy fantasy films for decades to come, largely due to Larry Butler’s invention of ChromaKey, which with some later polish became the successor to the “traveling matte” techniques used in prior films.

Viewed as an adult, the physical effects are mostly great — and while the Chromakey effects are often so obvious it takes you out of the film, the alterations to the tale and a few handy plot machinations do not. Watched bearing in mind its technological and historical importance, it is still enjoyable, and well worth the 108 minute runtime.

Conrad Veidt does more acting with his eyeballs alone than most actors do with their whole body.
Posted on by chasinvictoria

Angkor: The Lost Empire of Cambodia

2020, dir. Murray Pope

⭐️⭐️⭐️½

52-week film challenge, film 22

This documentary is another one of those you might see at an IMAX cinema somewhere near you, possibly in 3D (as I did). I’ve always liked travel/archeological documentaries about places I’m not familiar with or haven’t visited, and Angkor Wat in Cambodia is definitely one of those places. The structures that remain behind from this abandoned city, and the recreations of what it would have looked like in its very, very long day (from the 9th through the 15th centuries) were eye-popping.

Angkor was filled with amazing and very original stone buildings of a stunningly elaborate design, and even all these centuries later, where the foliage has reclaimed so much of the space, the merger of the two is haunting and beautiful. As great as the ruins and recreations of the buildings are to look at, it reflects a remarkable emphasis on careful engineering, which isn’t just reflected in the buildings — the entire city had a maze of waterways and carefully-managed rice paddies that enabled the population to thrive, thus funding the stone temples and palaces.

The big mystery of Angkor, which the film does drag out more than a little, is why it was eventually abandoned for the later (and still current) capitol of Phnom Penh (pronounced Pen-OM Pen). The short answer is a remarkable example of climate change, which serves as a reminder that although we hear a lot about mankind’s current influence on climate change, it is a thing that happens with or without our actions; the Ice Age was another example of mankind-free climate change.

The rest of the film concerns itself with a mix of showing off some of the restoration of Angkor Wat (the multi-temple center designed to resemble the mythical home of the Devas, Mt. Meru) that has occurred in the past few decades, once the ruins were rediscovered. The center complex, known as Angkor Wat, was constructed in the 12th century to serve Khmer King Suryavarman II, and serve as his tomb. Originally designed as a Hindu temple complex, it evolved in the 13th century into a Buddhist complex, which it remains to this day.

The film spends a bit of time on some of the techniques used to spot other ruins and structures lost in the overgrowth of the jungle away from the central complex, using helicopters and LIDAR to search do ground-mapping that can distinguish remnants of buildings through the jungle. Much more remains to be discovered, but the central complex has been mostly restored and is a popular tourist and religious destination, just 3.5 miles away from Siem Reap.

Although tourist promotion is not really the point of the movie as much as highlighting the ancient and surprisingly sophisticated culture of Cambodia, it certainly makes me want to see the place with my own eyes. Historical drawings of what it must have been like when populated are astonishing, and even today the complex water-management system of old has been restored, showing off the superb control of their environment the Khmer people once had until a decades-long drought, followed by a decades-long flood, forced them to move far to the south.

Although the design is a world away from the Mayan ruins of Mexico that I have visited, both sets of ruins serve as a powerful reminder that the peoples of the past thought deeply about the centers of their cities, usually along religious lines, and that this inspired great labours in the same way that the great cathedrals we can visit today, whether from centuries past or more recent, are likely to be rediscovered in another millenium or so. Those things we think of as “permanent” are often looked back on as fleeting, given enough distance by the march of time.

Posted on by chasinvictoria

The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert (1994, dir. Stephan Elliott)

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
52-week film challenge, film 20

I love this movie to itty-bitty bits, I first saw it in the cinema when it came out, nearly (gulp) 30 years ago, and then again some years later — Heather thinks it must have been 2004, for the 10th anniversary, likely at The Enzian in Maitland, Florida. So it has been a while, but seeing again last night, once again in the cinema was just heavenly.

Rarely has there been a movie this utterly joyful about a subculture, and the fact that it was one of those rare LGBTQ+ films that breaks through to the mainstream makes it even more beautiful. Priscilla, which follows the exploits of three Australian big-city drag queens at different stages of their lives (one of them transgender, no less) who get a lucrative gig in a faraway town, is at its heart a buddy movie about celebrating your style and embracing your past — told with infectious glee and love.

That it features an early and very effective performance by Hugo Weaving, playing Anthony “Tick” Belrose (drag name: Mitzi Del Bra), and the magnificent Terrance Stamp as Bernadette Basenger (whose real first name is a plot point, so I won’t give it away here), well-matched by Guy Pearce as Adam Whitely (drag name: Felicia Jollygoodfellow), and all three are just perfect yet surprising casting. While Tick’s story is arguably the “main” one, both he and Bernadette are confronting (or escaping) their past in this trip, while Adam (being the youngest) opts in on the adventure to fulfill his dreams.

Our trio, out of drag (only as required, mind you).

For those unfamiliar with Australia, it’s the same size roughly as the entire US, except that all the main cities hug the coastlines, so the road trip to Alice Springs is mostly a trip through remote desert, as their destination is smack-dab in the middle of the country. Adam’s mother buys them a very used old bus, and of course they pack an absolutely ungodly amount of costumes, props, makeup, and wigs with them.

Much of the film is comedic, thanks to the outlandish public personas of the trio, and there are lots of laugh-out-loud moments that are not just caused by outrageous costuming. The comedy is beautifully balanced with much more serious moments, including major and minor homophobia, personal growth, Tick’s literal confrontation with his past, and the bus breaking down in the middle of nowhere. Happily, the outback also has some friendly folks and a boatload of quirky characters that look out for our boys (and girl) as they each complete their personal and literal journeys.

If you shriek with delight at these incredible costumes, you might just be in the community …

The humanity and relentless positivity of the main characters wins you over almost immediately, and really carries the film through its various plot points and messages. If you’re not familiar with LGBTQ+ culture, this is a great introduction even though it is ostensibly about drag performers (hint: it isn’t really — it’s about finding and celebrating your true self).

Celebrated British actor Terrance Stamp, who first made his mark in film in the 1962 classic Billy Budd, is the real revelation here. He manages to effortlessly combine dignity, wisdom, experience, patience, and humour into his nuanced and layered performance, which threatens to steal the show but never quite does until the end of the film. This film revived his status as a hell of a good actor, resulting in a wealth of new roles and renewed respect in the industry that continues to this day.

Award-winning serious actor Terrance Stamp, known for superb villain portrayals, on the right.

For a film made 30 years ago, the “wokeness” (lol) of it is pretty stunning. There is representation of good and bad heterosexual characters, open-minded adults and children, the native aboriginal population, the white colonial population, and even the desert wildlife. Years earlier, David Bowie had made a music video (“China Girl” from Let’s Dance), that similarly touches on the spirit of Australia, and I can’t help but think maybe it had a tiny influence on this movie.

You really get a feel for the dynamic of the country, since the film starts in Sydney and is also a road movie about the beauty of the desert as well. When Adam finally gets some depth (after playing “generic young queen” for most of the film) as he fulfills his dream, you feel a family has bonded and your heart would be made of stone if you didn’t celebrate their victories.

The stars do such a terrific job of capturing the theatricality and joy of drag.

On top of everything else, it’s flawlessly made and brilliantly paced. It is funny, witty, joyous and celebratory, and I will never for the life of me figure out how it did so well with the general population, becoming a hit movie in most major countries, despite it quintessential Ozzie-ness.

This film is a gift to us all. If you’ve never seen it, go see it (especially in a cinema or in high-def). If you have seen it, you’re probably overdue for a revisit. It’s a buddy movie, a road movie, a gay movie, and a universal movie all in one, and it’s simply delightful.

Warning: some “fucking Abba” finally finds its way into this film, despite a ban from Bernadette.