SPEED RACER
(Review)

For the purposes of placing this review in a larger context…

My Cinematic History with the Wachowskis:
When Bound was released, I found it to be an agreeable, if not necessarily mind-blowing piece of entertainment. Beyond the lesbian twist, it didn’t really leave me with anything particularly fresh and rave-worthy.
So when news first surfaced of their next project, some sci-fi vehicle with Keanu in it, I was curious in that I wanted to see whether the brothers could handle science fiction, given that Bound wasn’t anywhere near that sort of territory.
It was in that neutral air of close-to-zero expectation that The Matrix blasted against my retinas and imprinted itself on my completely flabbergasted cortex.
It wasn’t perfect, but this was clearly something vital and new, blowing wide the gates of the film medium, even as the third millennium rapidly approached.
Fittingly enough, The Matrix proved to be a harbinger for post-millennial cinema, single-handedly establishing the new action film paradigm (ironically enough, by co-opting and sprucing up wire fu, which had already been going on for decades while the mainstream pointedly looked elsewhere).
As impressed as I was with The Matrix though, the Wachowskis were still on my probation list. I wanted them to kick my a$$ with a film that was removed from The Matrix, something low-key maybe.
Of course, they opted to return with the Matrix sequels, films I felt weren’t particularly needed. The Matrix was one of those very singular films that should have been left standing alone.
And when 2003 came around and Reloaded and Revolutions hit the screens within six months of each other, the whole bullet train completely derailed. (I am extremely grateful we had The Animatrix that same year, which thankfully more than negated the very bad taste the sequels left in me…)
Not only did the sequels suffer under the terrible weight of expectation, but the Wachowskis seemed to have approached the entire enterprise from the wrong angle. Sick to death of The Matrix’s bullet-time having been appropriated and parodied by all and sundry, they conceived of effects sequences so complex, no one could copy them.
That just seemed arrogant and presumptious. And the philobabble just got a bit much…
So I was back to waiting. Waiting for the Wachowskis to kick my a$$ all over again.

And they’ve done it.

With Speed Racer.

The titular hero (played with an earnest sense of idealistic confidence by Emile Hirsch) is a young man who lives for the rush, who can’t really slow down. There, behind the wheel, careening down the race track at improbable velocities, is one of the few places Speed feels at home.
He knows, deep in his heart, in the very fibre of his being, that this is not just the only thing he knows how to do, but also, the principal thing he was meant to do.
And though he has an amazing support system in his extended family (which includes his girlfriend Trixie, played by Christina Ricci), Speed also has some ghosts he must come to terms with, in particular, the disgrace and apparent subsequent death of his older brother Rex (Friday Night Lights’ Scott Porter).
Rex is the brother he idolized, the brother who taught him everything, who taught him to listen, to understand and acknowledge that a car isn’t just metal and oil, but rather, a living, breathing organism.
And here, in the coming-of-age adventure that we see play out in Speed Racer, young Speed is about to discover why Rex came to that tragic end, and the terrible darkness that lies at the heart of the World Racing League, and the sport he so dearly loves.

Beyond the kaleidoscopic, day-glo aesthetic of this hyper-real, hyper-kinetic world, what most strikes me about Speed Racer is the fact that there is some genuine emotion that underpins the astounding visual flourishes.
From the strong filial bonds on display (helped along tremendously by the performances of senior cast members, Susan Sarandon and John Goodman, as Mom and Pops Racer); the obvious hero worship Speed still holds for his brother; the brooding, tragic, and tangibly physical presence of Racer X (a terrific and terribly effective Matthew Fox); and the struggle young Speed experiences in trying to keep his idealism intact in the crushing, cruel face of high-stakes business, Speed Racer certainly has a heart that beats with a genuine rhythm, a humanizing counterpoint to the adrenalized, pedal-to-the-metal action.
For every neon-laced, anime-inspired set piece, there’s a small character moment that balances it out, and somehow, the Wachowskis manage to pace all of the film’s bits in such a way that a 2 hour 15 minute running time feels far less. (There were honestly only a couple of sections where a minute, perhaps even half, could have been shaved off each, to make the goofy goings-on a tad less strained. Unlike last year’s Transformers or Spider-Man 3, where the kiddy bits were simultaneously condescending, atrocious, and horribly frivolous padding.)
It zips by, this one. But not without leaving its marks. Much like the squiggly trails of coloured light scrawled on the air by the whizzing racing cars during the Maltese Ice Caves sequence, Speed Racer leaves after-images in its wake, both visual and emotional.

As clearly bowled over as I am with it though, I will admit, this isn’t for everyone.
Some will see the frenetic racing sequences and quickly switch off, under the mistaken belief that all Speed Racer is is high velocity eye candy devoid of any genuine human warmth.
Speed Racer also isn’t really built for extremely young kids. (Thus, the PG rating, as some of the young 'uns may need older family members to patiently explain odd bits here and there.) The first protracted racing sequence alone, which shifts the narrative back and forth from the present, to different sections of the past (much as a speeding car rapidly shifts its gears), may lose some of the less-attentive of the kiddie brigade in its non-linear, top-heavy exposition.
I, for one, loved this sequence, enthralled by the poignant idea of “race track as continuum,” capped off by Speed racing the phantom of Rex to the finish line. But then again, that’s just me.
The final moments of the climactic race are also executed via a device that is so tried-and-tested, it’s cliché. Somehow though, the Wachowskis pull it off, orchestrating the emotions the film’s narrative engine runs on to a tee.
And to leave us with the thought that anything—no matter how seemingly trivial—can be an art; that money does not have to—and more importantly, should not—be at the heart of everything; that a cohesive family unit is key; and that it isn’t really about what you can do, but how you can do good while doing what you do, that matters…
Certainly all that must count for something.

At this point, I’d like to underscore the fact that I’ve never really been a fan of Tatsuo Yoshida’s original animated Mach Go Go Go (Speed Racer in its American incarnation). I’ve seen snippets of some episodes of course, just enough to know that the tone of the series wasn’t really for me.
Despite never having gotten into it though, I was aware of the characters—Chim-Chim, Racer X, Trixie, et al—and their basic relationships with each other; I was aware of the visual signatures; I was aware of the song.*
So I really had no vested interest in whether the film would be any good, beyond the fact that I was hoping it could redeem the Wachowskis in my eyes.
I’m so glad it did. I’m thrilled that the Wachowskis could give a non-fan like myself a grand, rousing time at the cinema.
I’m glad that they could give me a film that has decidedly more humanity than The Matrix, that has a readily apparent soul that informs the technical and visual virtuosity that they are so clearly wizards of.
And I’m glad they proved they hadn’t completely lost their game.

Set in a world that is arguably more visually vibrant and stimulating than the Matrix, Speed Racer is a cinematic experience that fires on all of its cylinders, more than making up for the Matrix sequels.
It may not end up as seismic a pop culture event as The Matrix was, and it may not be the low-key piece I was looking for, but it certainly showcases the Wachowskis’ visual strengths in a package infused with humour, warmth, and emotion.
And granted, it isn’t for everyone, but for those of you who dig stylized storytelling, who can appreciate the paradox of obvious artifice and earnest emotion playing off each other and fusing under the elusive alchemy of skilled filmmaking, I think Speed Racer’s just the ride for you.

* Dang, the film version of the theme song (by Ali Dee and the Deekompressors) is a particularly dangerous—and terribly fun—meme…

(Speed Racer OS’s courtesy of impawards.com [design by Concept Arts]; images courtesy of speedracerthemovie.warnerbros.com.)

AWAY FROM HER
(Review)

Memory is a vital component of what makes up our individuality. It’s the foundation of who we are as a person. And not just our own memory, but also the memory of those around us; after all, to a certain extent, who we are is also dictated by how others see us.
Memory is at the core of Sarah Polley’s feature directorial debut, Away From Her.
In this incredibly moving adaptation of Alice Munro’s short story, “The Bear Came Over The Mountain,” Polley’s co-star in No Such Thing, the fantastic (and Oscar-nominated) Julie Christie, plays Fiona Anderson, a woman succumbing to Alzheimer’s Disease.

I’ll freely admit at this point, that it took quite a while for me to muster the courage to watch Away From Her, afraid as I was that it would be a difficult film to sit through, given its subject matter.
And sure enough, within the first few minutes of the film’s running time, when the first sign of Fiona’s fading memory exhibits itself, I could feel the ache in my chest.
Away From Her is definitely the most emotionally wrenching film I’ve seen from 2006,* and it’s a singular triumph for Polley, who I’ve loved since I first encountered in April of 1999, initially in Doug Liman’s Go, then a short two weeks later, in David Cronenberg’s eXistenZ.
In her feature-length directorial debut, not only does she adapt the short story with a tender artistry that keeps it from devolving into melodramatic schmaltz, but she also keenly directs both Christie and her co-star Gordon Pinsent (who plays Grant, Fiona’s husband of 44 years), performers who seem effortlessly imbued with a graceful melancholy that favours silences and looks over copious tears and histrionics.
What gives such emotional weight to the tragic price the disease exacts though, is the tender familiarity that so clearly exists between the characters. If the couple in question had been young and generic Hollywood stars, the term would be “chemistry.” For thespians like Christie and Pinsent though, the only term that seems right, is “love.”

The degeneration of a loved one (whether mental or physical) is always an agonizing ordeal, for all parties involved. Regardless of the particular circumstances, there is a kind of emotional dying that takes place, as the life of the relationship between the stricken individual and his or her loved one also languishes.
This is inevitable.
But what Away From Her is saying is, within the confines of that large inevitability, there are certain choices that one can snatch away and hold against one’s chest, decisions (and sacrifices) that can be made which will determine exactly how many people die when the stricken individual takes leave.
Those choices aren’t easy, certainly, but they’re the difference between being prisoners to circumstance and wanderers traveling by the light of fate.

* The most emotionally wrenching film from 2006 that wasn’t a horror film like The Living and the Dead or Right At Your Door, that is.

Parting shot: Sarah Polley’s script is also up for an Oscar in the Best Adapted Screenplay category, though admittedly, the competition is fierce, with No Country For Old Men and There Will Be Blood also vying for the statue.

(Away From Her OS courtesy of impawards.com; DVD cover art courtesy of amazon.com.)

THE NIN9S
(Review)

A MAN’S HAND unwinds a short length of green string. We’re extremely close, with a shallow, blurry focus. It’s like the first moments after a dream—just fragments.
Scissors cut the string. The man wraps it around his left wrist. A loop. A bracelet.
We see the man’s teeth, the edge of his chin as he pulls the knot tight.
His fingers pull against the string. Solid. It won’t break easily.

FADE OUT.

John August is a screenwriter who can come up with scripts like those for Doug Liman’s Go! and Tim Burton’s Big Fish (two personal favourites), then can go all the way to the far end of the spectrum for McG’s Charlie’s Angels movies.
Now that’s displaying a range.
With The Nin9s—which has the structure of Go! (three discrete yet inter-connected sections) and the thematic complexity of Big Fish—August broadens his range even more, by not just delivering another intricate and ambitious screenplay, but by directing it as well.

Gary Banks (Ryan Reynolds) is the star of the hit police procedural Crim9 Lab (“This fall, Mondays are killer.”), who has a minor meltdown as a result of having his heart broken by a woman. A baggie of crack later and he’s under house arrest (in a house that he claims is haunted by a “zeitgeist”), and in danger of being written off the series by its showrunner.
Or is he?

If you’ve seen the trailer of The Nin9s, it’s pretty evident that this is the sort of film you can’t really talk about lest the cat prematurely get out of the bag.
What I can say is that this is another fantastic script by August, and his handling of the intricate and delicate material displays a steady and confident directorial presence.
He also gathers a great cast for The Nin9s, starting with Reynolds, who shows a sharp versatility here I’ve never really seen before; usually he gets to play variations of his wise-a$$ sitcom self, as in Blade: Trinity. Here, he’s given the opportunity to inject nuance and a certain amount of subtlety in his performance, and he doesn’t disappoint.
He’s then supported by Hope Davis (always a treat to watch) and Gilmore Girls’ Melissa McCarthy. Like Reynolds, McCarthy’s another eye-opener, as not only is she allowed to make a departure from her Sookie TV persona, she also gets a chance to play herself.
(E.R. fans should also note that Dahlia Salem is in here too, also as herself.)

There. I may have already said too much.
Let’s just leave it at this: if you like your cinema complex and layered, The Nin9s should be on your radar.
At the very least, you’ll learn something really, really interesting about koala bears.

Parting shot: Reviews of Blade: Trinity and The Amityville Horror, in which Ryan Reynolds also appeared, can be found in the Archive, as well as a Tim Burton retrospective, where Big Fish is mentioned.

(The Nin9s UK quad courtesy of impawards.com; DVD cover art courtesy of amazon.com; image courtesy of lookforthenines.com.)

(The italicized first section of the review is from John August’s final shooting script for The Nin9s.)

CASHBACK
(Review)

At the 2005 Oscars, when Martin McDonagh‘s “Six Shooter“ won the Award for Best Short Film, there were a couple of other interesting nominees, but the one that really stayed with me though, was Sean Ellis’ “Cashback,” about an employee at an all-night grocery, whose coping mechanism for the boredom of his job is to imagine he can stop time, and walk about, unseen, in a freeze-frame world.
Well, Ellis has since turned that impressive short film into an equally impressive feature.

Ben Willis (Sean Biggerstaff, perhaps most widely seen in the first two Harry Potter films, where he played Oliver Wood) is on his final year at art school, and he’s just broken up with his girlfriend, Suzy (Michelle Ryan, about to be seen as Jamie Sommers in the new Bionic Woman TV series). Even as he suffers the acute pangs of separation, he suddenly finds that he has become “immune to sleep.” Now finding sleep apparently unnecessary, Ben gets a third of his life back. Of course, at this juncture in his life, that just means more seconds and minutes and hours wallowing in the Suzy-shaped hole in his life.
So he takes a night shift job at Sainsbury’s, an all-night grocery, where he meets a crew of colourful characters, who each have their own particular methods of dealing with the deadening job hours. As in the original short—which is actually contained in Cashback, some 15 minutes into the feature’s running time—Ben finds that his way is, paradoxically, by stopping time.

Ellis treats this fantastic conceit wonderfully, telling a tale of the beauty that can be found hidden in the most mundane of moments, of the importance of each instant in our lives, and of the possibility of miracles secreted in between the ticks of a clock’s second hand.
Ben, of course, is our anchor to the narrative. We are privy to his life and those pivotal and formative moments that inform all of our youths—that first, almost-kiss; our first sight of a naked body—through a series of flashbacks, where Ben is played by newcomer Frank Hesketh. It is through these flashbacks (and Ben’s narration, which carries us through the entire film) that we understand why Ben is the way he is, and perhaps most importantly, gain insight into the manner in which he sees beauty.
So, while Ben is our solid footing in reality, giving us a mirror in which to see ourselves as witnesses of our world, he is also our gateway into the fantastic, as he shares his ability with us.
It is a testament to Ellis and cinematographer Angus Hudson, that a technique that is fairly common in music videos (of that lone figure and the camera moving in a reality on pause) can still have the potency that it does here.
Ben moves through the fluorescent-drenched aisles of Sainsbury’s, sketching the female customers, admiring beauty, perfecting his art. Rarely has the supermarket been a setting for such transcendence. (There is a scene in Go! that captures that same sense of beauty in the utterly mundane.)

And while this is the heart that beats within the film, the visible layer of Cashback—its celluloid skin, if you will—is that of a love story, of the period of healing after being crushed by the wheels of heartbreak, and of the miraculous rediscovery of love, hiding in plain sight.
It’s also about the reality that we are all selling off our time, the seconds and minutes of our lives, and how we need to ensure that we don’t end up on the losing end in the daily shuffle to keep money in our bank accounts.
It’s about the indelibility of every single moment, of the quirks of serendipity, and the delicate, fragile, and ultimately volatile nature of human relationships, of how seeing “the wrong second of a two second story” can have damning consequences.

For all its wonder though, Cashback is not perfect.
There are, perhaps, one too many colourful characters in Ben’s life, most of whom are little more than comedy relief, and the film does fall into cliché once or twice. (It’s been awhile since I’ve been amused by a musical montage of characters preparing for a night out.)
Also, though I love that one horror movie moment of the entire film, that scene opens up a subplot that I feel could have used a little more exploration, so that its use in Cashback’s climax would have been a tad more well-earned.
Still, what works in this film far outweighs what doesn’t.

And some of what does work, are the performances of the principals, Biggerstaff, and Emilia Fox, who plays Ben’s co-worker, Sharon Pintey.
In Biggerstaff, we find that part of all of us who silently yearns for another, who admires from afar, but is initially unable to articulate that desire verbally. For some, it will be through song, for others, poetry. In Ben’s case, it is his art.
There is a genuine sense of heartfelt longing in Biggerstaff’s performance; for his ex-girlfriend, for his dream, and it is that air of honesty that makes us accept him as a character, and makes us receptive to his tale.
Fox meanwhile, convinces, particularly in the manner in which for most of the time Sharon is at Sainsbury’s (at the cash register or walking the aisles), she trudges, zombie-like, beneath the harsh fluorescents. The only time she actually comes alive, and we see the true vibrancy of the person, is when we see her outside the grocery’s confines, having a meal with Ben, cheering the lads at a football match.
It’s a little something that Cashback says, but it’s nonetheless something important: even that bored check-out girl who recites her litany of automatic pleasantries (if she’s even pleasant at all), is a person too.

It’s also interesting to note that Ben’s ability can be interpreted as simply the way in which he views the world around him. Yes, there are instances where we see the effects of his stopping and re-starting time in objective reality, but these can still be argued as being part and parcel of his worldview.
Even with that interpretation though, the message the film wishes to impart, of the importance of time and what can be found in its midst, is still the same.

Ultimately, it all comes back to the importance of each second of our lives. How we need to acknowledge time’s passage, so we can live accordingly, and not lose sight of ourselves, and the beauty that surrounds us every single moment of every single day.

Parting shot: Sean Ellis’ upcoming film is The Broken, which kicks off when, on a busy London street, Gina McVey (played by 300’s Lena Headey) thinks she sees herself drive past in her own car.

(Cashback OS and images courtesy of worstpreviews.com; DVD cover art courtesy of amazon.com.)