There’s been a lot of talk about how honestly The Social Network portrays Mark Zuckerberg, Facebook’s co-founder and CEO/president (and the world’s youngest self-made billionaire, played in the movie by Jesse Eisenberg, of The Squid and the Whale and Zombieland fame). This is a valid reaction to a film about someone as culturally relevant as Zuckerberg is, although it’s also a non-point. Facebook is still growing in users, Zuckerberg’s still wealthy beyond belief, and The Social Network has done decently in theaters.

The film is split between two general settings and times: one being Harvard (where the seed of Facebook was first grown), eventually moving to Silicon Valley, where the website would take-off from; the other being inside two law firms as Zuckerberg testifies in two separate depositions, one against the comically serious Winklevoss twins (or Winklevi, as Zuckerberg called them, both played by Armie Hammer) who allege Zuckerberg stole their idea, the other against his former best friend Eduardo Saverin (played with a show stealing performance by Andrew Garfield). The film starts with Zuckerberg’s girlfriend Erica (Rooney Mara, who will play Lisbeth Salander in Fincher’s next film, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo) breaking up with him, telling him he will become “successful and rich” but that he’ll go through his life believing girl’s don’t like him because he’s a nerd, when in fact they won’t like him because he’s “an asshole”.  It goes on to show how the depression he was in thereafter would result in a series of events which would bring about what will become one of the most popular websites in the world. Mark doesn’t fight his way to the top of the popularity chain as much as he slithers his way up. Halfway through the film, Sean Parker (Justin Timberlake), the nerd/party-boy co-creator of Napster, comes onto the scene, becoming Mark’s proverbial bad shoulder angel compared to Eduardo’s role as the good guy.

This movie belongs to Eduardo’s character as much as it does to Mark’s. In fact, I enjoyed the Eduardo centered scenes more than I did the Mark ones, mostly because the former seems so much more in touch with his humanity than the latter. Mark comes across in the film–quite intentionally, too–as an arrogant prick who cares only about himself and who will gladly back stab his friends to come ahead in life. Most of the film seems to come from Eduardo’s perspective as the victim of Mark’s ego, which would explain why it feels more like an attack ad than anything else.

Perception is reality, and the film doesn’t seem to really care about how accurate their material is as long as it tells a good story and gets its point across. What’s the point, though? It doesn’t take much Googling to learn Zuckerberg is a controversial figure. I don’t think very many people left the theater after watching the movie to go home and delete their Facebook accounts. The Social Network seems to be more the work of personal propaganda than anything else. However, for the audience, it makes for an excellent movie experience. If anything, watch the film for screenwriter Aaron Sorkin’s notoriously fervent dialogue scenes (the movie starts with one).

Matt Reeves has done what no American filmmaker has been able to accomplish before: he’s made a good vampire film and a good remake. Admittedly I set the bar kind of low before watching Let Me In (the American version of Tomas Alfredson’s genius 2008 film Let the Right One In), thinking it was just going to butcher the original and try to capitalize on the sinking ship that is the vampire genre. I was wrong, however, and I left the theater with a sense of satisfaction I haven’t felt often this year.

Reeves made a good decision on asking his two lead actors, Kodi Smit-McPhee and Chloe Moretz, to not watch Let the Right One In until after all the filming was done. Though much of the action and dialogue is directly lifted from the original, watching these two actors’ takes on their characters is like peeking into an alternate universe where everything’s slightly askew and not in Sweden. Smit-McPhee’s “Owen” isn’t quite like Kare Hedebrant’s “Oskar”, seeming a bit more screwy and in need of therapy than the latter. The character of Owen is likable, but with qualifications, and when shit goes down for him you know that he’ll get his revenge later on, even if he doesn’t know it. Likewise, Moretz’s “Abby” is different enough from the “Eli” we saw in the original (played by Lina Leandersson) to stand on her own as a different character (though I don’t know if I dig the heavy CG and make-up “vampire mode” Reeves chose to give her in the film).

I can see where the criticism some critics hold towards Let Me In being almost a doppelganger of the original is coming from, though I disagree with it. The discrepancies between the two are enough to change the film in a good way, adding more intensity where it’s due, and vice versa. The violence exhibited by Owen’s bullies is legitimately frightening, and is more hardcore than the original portrayed. The feeling of the film being more rooted in the 80′s than the original is also a nice change, adding bits of Americana circa 1983 to make it easier for an audience this side of the world to relate to. I do reserve a minor feeling of contempt, however, for the somewhat cheesy CG used in Let Me In, as well as for the omission of the original’s pretty cool “crazy cat” scene.

2010′s been a slow movie year, and I can probably count on one hand the number of film’s I’ve seen in theaters that have made me feel my 10+ dollars was well spent. However, even if it was a good time for movies, I’d still place Let Me In somewhere in my top ten of the year.

But maybe that was Wong Kar-wai’s intent. Which, on a second viewing of the film, I’m totally content with believing. There’s a certain degree of non-thought that has to be applied when watching a film with a narrative that feels like it was cut by a five year old then glued back together with the same hands. The plot is not important to a film like this, which is more focused on transmitting feelings from the screen than telling a coherent story. This isn’t a complaint though, especially since the film is handled by Wong’s expert hands, and if the story is too confusing, one can just absorb the look of the entire film, which is beautiful, in a colorful-noir sort of way.

There are two story lines in the film. The first, and probably most important, is that of an assassin who wants to retire, and of his emotionally distant business partner/girlfriend (?). He wants to dissolve their relationship, for both their good, but he prefers not to do it in person. The second story line, which is the polar opposite of the first but shares a spiritual connection, follows a mute young man who lives with his aging father. Though he cannot talk, he has the ability to annoy the hell out of everyone around him. He falls in love with a girl who probably doesn’t know he loves her, and then subsequently gets heartbroken when she inevitably leaves him. Someway or another the narratives weave into each other, but that’s not important. Almost everything the film shows is not really important, like I said before, it’s the feelings–the emotions–that are its focus. Which makes my inability to know how I feel about it all that more confusing.

Fallen Angels is less a movie and more a work of art set into motion. I think that sentence right there sets my mind at ease, at least to some extent. It’s not bad, though it is far less important than the director’s other work, particularly  Chungking Express (which this film may be a sequel to) and the excellent Happy Together. However, as minor or confusing as it may be, the film has strong merits and is worth a watch or two, though you may want to have a clear head beforehand.

Date Night is by no means a landmark of American cinema, but that doesn’t mean it’s particularly bad. Every year, movie studios produce hundreds of mid-budget rom coms, thrillers, comedies, and other genre movies with A-list actors that garner a fair amount of praise/money during their run then proceed to fall into oblivion some months later. Shawn Levy’s latest film (and really EVERYTHING he’s made) is a perfect example of this sort of Hollywood mediocrity machine, but with that said, Date Night is an all around entertaining movie.

Let’s not fool ourselves though, no one’s going to see this movie for Shawn Levy’s directing or the decent cinematography by Dean Semler*; people will see this for two reasons: an excellent and talented cast (Tina Fey, Steve Carell, “Marky Mark” Wahlberg, and others) and the fact that the movie’s just right for a date night, as the title would suggest. There’s not much to say about the movie’s plot other then it’s about a bored married couples’ case of mistaken identity, accompanied with a sub-plot of crooked cops and attorneys. Despite the gun fights (one even with a dueling pistol), car chases, and other action movie staples, Date Night is no action film. The film is built around one-liners by the improv genius of Fey and Carell, and if anything will be be remembered after the movie it’ll be the comedy, not the action.

Date Night is not an important film, and life will go on for someone that doesn’t see it. However, it’s not terrible, and it serves its purpose well of maintaining the “movie status quo”. I don’t criticize movies like this too harshly, as they’re not made to be taken too seriously. Watch it, laugh, snuggle with your significant other, then exit when it’s all over. That’s the only formula films like this need.

*Yes, I did watch this movie and at one point remark “Hey, the photography in this isn’t so bad.”.

I’ll come out and admit it: I wasn’t bored watching Kick-Ass. Nor was I repulsed by the lack of morals inherent it presents. I also didn’t much mind that every plot development was merely a catalyst for someone’s arm to get cut off or a building to blow up, etc.. Like many people interested in film as art, there’s a misconception that I’m only interested in intellectual, independent, thought provoking, socially aware films that were made at least fifty years. I watch many movies solely for the purpose of shutting off my mind. Who needs symbolism or depth when you have gun fights?

With all that being said, I think Kick-Ass is one of the lamest films I’ve seen in a while. So what if I wasn’t bored in it? I wasn’t bored in Transformers 2 but  I still left it believing I had been mind-raped. If you want to judge this movie by its own entertainment value, then by all means go ahead and give Kick-Ass an A. But that’s not how things are done here at Film Revisited.

Kick-Ass tries hard to be a good film despite its obvious devotion to stupidity, I’ll give it that. It tries hard to avoid static characters, what with a nerdy nobody whose love interest thinks he’s gay (Dave/Kick-Ass), a father who wants revenge for his life being ruined (Damon/Big Daddy), and a rich kid (Chris/Red Mist) who wants so bad to be a part of the “family business”. These three characters, driven by outside forces, whatever they may be, are functional, and do work for the film’s purposes. It’s with the Mindy/Hit-Girl character (admittedly played well by Chloe Moretz), where problems arise. She doesn’t have a purpose to do what she does; her father (Big Daddy) already is impressed with her, she doesn’t need money, and, aside from a desire for revenge at the end, there’s no real reason for her to fight ALL THE TIME. Her character is there just to dish out one-liners and provoke gasps from the audience when a little girl cuts someone’s head off. I’m not objecting to this character on moral grounds, rather I don’t like the presence of this girl on the basis that, despite her constant presence in the movie, Hit-Girl merely serves the purpose of fulfilling a fight coordinator’s wettest of dreams. Yes her character does affect the storyline, yes we need her to fight the bad guys, yes she helps Kick-Ass find out who he really is blah blah blah, but so what? Hit-Girl’s inability to think past killing is a good metaphor for this film’s inability to think past fight scenes.

People say that movies (and books and music) should be judged by what they intended on portraying. I believe this is true, but if that’s the case then let me ask a question: What is the theme of Kick-Ass? In other words, what’s the point of the movie? Is it about teamwork or friendship or–sigh–discovering the hero inside each of us?  For every theme that comes to my mind, I can think of something else shown or said during the film that disproves it.

There’s not much in terms of a soul for Kick-Ass. Yes it’s entertaining, and if you want to just sit down and shut off your mind, then by all means watch this movie. After its done, you may not be asking for your money back, but you will be wondering what the fuck it is that you’d just seen, and I can assure you the answer to that is nothing.

*Some spoilers ahoy*

From the opening of Shutter Island, as we slowly descend through the fog and see a little island off the Boston coast, we know something’s not right. Everything feels a little off, like a screw is loose someplace. You want to find the screw, because everything will fall apart if you don’t, but unfortunately there are too many other screws in the way. As the two U.S. Marshalls walk onto the island, we are given the feeling that they–and us, by proxy–are in the middle of a game everyone knows about but that we’re left out of. And it is with this that Martin Scorsese starts his latest film, and it is with this that he leaves us to dwell on until the end credits roll.

Shutter Island is the sort of film a director can make only after he’s won Best Picture and Best Director (something Scorsese did with his last film, the very good The Departed), and particularly only if you have the chops of a man who has worked in Hollywood for four decades. Unlike the Coen brothers’ latest film, A Serious Man (which is also an example of the former condition and actually drove me crazier than this film did), which doesn’t explain a thing the entire time, Shutter Island is obsessed with explanations. This isn’t to say the film is shallow, especially considering a large part of the film’s success revolves around the subplot of Teddy’s life as well as how good our imaginations are. The film tries to explain everything–much to our relief–and sort of plays out like an old detective comic where everything starts falling into place after a while. The explanations and discoveries that unfold are much needed and well placed, all the way up until the final scene when Teddy throws us a huge curve ball and we’re left sitting there in the theater not knowing what hit us.

What brings U.S. Marhalls Teddy (Leonardo DiCaprio) and Chuck (Mark Ruffalo) onto the island is the case of a seemingly impossible escape of a patient/inmate from the most secluded mental hospital in the world. What drives them deeper into the mysteries of the place is the ominous feeling that somethin’ just ain’t right. It’s these two “plots” (if you want to call them that) the film tosses around that begin to feel one and the same. Eventually we learn that the island has a lot more meaning to Teddy than just a missing person case, and hook after hook we’re brought deeper into the film, just as the Marhalls are brought deeper into the island.

I want to say the film is all Scorsese’s handywork, but I couldn’t live with myself if I totally ignored Leo and Mark’s performances as the troubled duo. This really is Ruffalo’s finest performance, and well deserved after a series of less powerful parts. But DiCaprio knows how to pass off being crazy while seeming sane the whole film, and that is a talent  not many an actor share. Much like The Departed and Gangs of New York, we’re given the treat of excellent acting and directing all rolled up into one entertaining film.

Shutter Island is a creepy film. It’s not the “oh no, don’t go into the deserted building” type of creepy, nor is it of the “someone’s waiting around the corner to jump out and kill a bitch” sort, either. The film instead derives its creepiness in a way almost totally extinct since Hitchcock was going loud and proud; it uses cues from the environment, the music,  and–yes–it even uses the our own thoughts and feelings to create a particular look and feel that always keeps you feeling a little tense and uneasy the entire time (like slowly stretching a rubber band for two hours). It’s this type of cinematic virtuosity that has launched Scorsese’s name into the realm of the great cinematic masters, but at the same time it’s also the one element of the film that keeps it from being in the league of the filmmaker’s true masterpieces (Raging Bull and Taxi Driver). Lord knows there are some major gaps in this film’s logic, but the overall product is well-made and fun two watch in its own special way. Shutter Island doesn’t proclaim to be some Rembrandt in the Louvre; it humbly presents itself as a genre film, and for that I can say job well done.

Much of the success of this film, though, is placed more so in the hands of its actors than its screenwriting. The story, though good, isn’t really thinking out of the box (any socially aware writer could have penned it), but with dialogue spoken through the mouths of wonderful actors like Vilma Santos and Christopher De Leon we are given a much deeper, as well as better, film. Santos plays Marilou, a planetarium tour guide who is madly in love with De Leon’s character, Emil, who of course is married to another woman but spends the bulk of his time with Marilou. Though the film is about compromise (or the lack thereof) in relationships, her love blinders and naivete are the start of her problems with Emil. She doesn’t care if he’s married or if her actions will effect Emil’s wife or son (or even her own character), she just wants her man all for herself, going as far as suggesting he find a way of annulling his marriage, or at the very least legally separating from his wife (as divorce isn’t possible in the Philippines). Emil’s attitude towards his wife doesn’t help though, as he suggests they buy a place and move in together, something Marilou quickly agrees to. However shortly after moving in together Marilou discovers the cool and charming Emil is not much more than a normal guy. She’s lowered down to a housekeeper, merely cleaning and cooking and providing the occasional booty calls, and while she allows him to bring any of his friends over, Emil forbids her to have any male friends, and even goes as far as to call her close minded when she brings over a gay friend. Though Marilou does eventually stop tolerating his antics, and even temporarily breaks up with him, she can’t resist the feelings she has for him, and they get back together for what will be the final part of their relationship.

I’ve commented before on Bernal’s ability to make the best of his low budgets and Relasyon is no exception. The man sure did know how to direct a good movie, and though a lot of it is rough in comparison to a film which possesses more money and a better crew, his films still get the message across. I wouldn’t say this is one of my favorite Bernal films (Hinugot sa Langit and Himala deserve that honor), but it still packs quite the punch and ignites much soul searching amongst its audience.

Sometimes you come across a film which strikes on a totally new emotional level that there are hardly any words to describe it. This is exactly how I feel about Apichatpong Weerasethakul’s sophomore feature, which I’ve tried–and failed–to write about for some time now. Actually, every film by Joe (which I will henceforth call him) seems to leave me speechless. They seem simple from an outsider’s perspective: very minimalistic dialogue, long landscape shots,  and mostly ambient noise for a soundtrack, with the exception of some moments (the “opening” credits in this film and well placed traditional Thai music in Syndromes and a Century, to label a couple examples). It is, however, these very simplistic features of his work which hit all the way down to the bone. You feel more by seeing and hearing less, and I believe the whole goal of this film was to place us in the shoes of a spectator, but not of one viewing from the darkness of a theater, rather it ushers us onto the trees peering down as the characters interact, in the doctor’s office waiting for our turn, and on the road watching their car drive on. The film acknowledges our very existence, but doesn’t give us the pleasure of an onscreen appearance. Very few filmmakers of any genre, style, or nation can produce this type of relationship between a film and its audience.

I felt similarly to Joe’s first feature length work, the “exquisite corpse” documentary (which isn’t quite a documentary) Mysterious Object at Noon. However, unlike Blissfully Yours, I didn’t quite “get” Mysterious Object after the first viewing. Not to say I understood Blissfully after my initial viewing, but I felt like I did. After first watching Mysterious Object I didn’t know what to think, let alone feel, about the film. Whereas Blissfully plays out like a Chopin nocturne, keeping the same basic emotions going on in various magnitudes throughout the entire work, Mysterious Object at Noon is more like Ravel’s Bolero; it builds and builds on itself until you reach the climax, which seems like cacophony at first (in the Ravel piece it’s loud noise; with Mysterious Object it’s kids playing soccer) but then like pure music later on after giving it a second chance. It’s these very features of the two films which seem to contribute to their English titles, which I didn’t notice until much later on.

The blissfulness of Blissfully Yours is centered around two young lovers, Min and Roong. The bliss of this couple is shown in contrast to the romantic frustration of the other central character, the middle aged Orn. The entire film is about love, whether it’s tangible or not, whether it’s even real or not. However, the film doesn’t really care if love is possible or not, real or just a fairy tale; it cares more on if how it feels when confronted with it (or something like it). But it’s this almost high school view of love which makes the film so adult, and though there are a couple of scenes of sex in the film, they are portrayed in such an unromantic way that we are pushed even more into feeling the emotions rather than seeing them. The film’s plot takes place over the course of a day, and though people go in and out of the character’s lives, and though the settings shown change a few times, the level of feelings throughout remain constant.

Blissfully Yours perhaps has the most complete ending of any of Joe’s films, actually bringing levels of closure into the story (albeit not showing it, merely mentioning it). Though it all almost has a childish feeling, the film’s level of maturity is almost that of a century year old ghost, viewing the good things in life not as they should be but how they are. Nothing is over romanticized at all in the film, but though we live in an ugly world and we, as–humans– are capable of terrible things, occasionally things just seem to work themselves out, if just for a day at a time.

There’s been a lot of talk about Up in the Air being the defining film for this current age. Whether or not this is true is irrelevant; rather, this movie certainly will live on for generations to come as a symbol for what America and capitalism stood for in the 2000′s: less human contact + liquid employees = efficiency = more money. Though things will probably be worse a hundred years from now, people like me will look back at this time and see it as a problem which could have been easily solved if we only saw one another as persons, not shells.

In this film George Clooney wonderfully plays Ryan Bingham, a man who makes his living working for a firm which sends him all across the US to fire people working for employers who are too cowardly to do the job. Business is booming right now, especially with this recession looking like it’s here to stay for a while. He’s grown to love airports and views them as his home, as opposed to his apartment in Omaha, which is nothing to him. Whereas everyone else despises waiting in lines, having to nearly strip for airport security, and having to deal with ornery TSA workers, Ryan has created a methodical science out of all the noise, saying at one point “all the things you hate about traveling, I love.” His job, though, is thrown a curve ball when an ambitious young woman named Natalie Keener (played excellently by Anna Kendrick) comes onto the scene. She’s made a new and more efficient way to fire people, and better yet it saves money for Ryan’s firm. The only drawback is there will be no more traveling. Ryan, firmly believing the art of firing people requires more intimacy than Ms. Keener’s system delivers, is given the task from his boss (Jason Bateman) to show their new co-worker how it is out on the road. Clooney agrees, hoping to change her mind, and begins to show her tips on traveling, firing people, dealing with the life and relationships, and introduces him to his female alternative/love interest (Vera Farmiga).

Aside from the social commentary to 2009 America, Up in the Air is fun to watch. The humor of the film is more like that of Thank You for Smoking than Juno, and the message is more similar to the former as well. One reviewer of this film has said he was thankful a director like Jason Reitman has come around to “save movies”. While I definitely don’t see Reitman as a savior of the American film industry (this film in particular is rife with product placement and a disproportionate amount of white people), he certainly is a beacon of hope for filmmakers to come. Bateman can direct the hell out of movies and actors, and his style is complemented with excellent acting, editing, and cinematography (especially cinematography). However, the film starts to feel loose and a little bit sloppy in the third act, and by then we’re just wondering what’s going to happen to Clooney’s character, surviving off his suave personality and funny quips, and maybe the hope we’ll see Vera Farmiga naked again.

In no way is Up in the Air perfect, but its imperfections are outweighed by the film’s ability to observe how life is for America and the corporate world it has established. For some reason I connected best with Kendrick’s character, maybe because she’s roughly my age and symbolizes my generation’s problem of trying to achieve the American dream when no such thing exists.

My favorite films of ’09: (in alphabetical order)

– Michael Moore, Capitalism: A Love Story

– Henry Selick, Coraline

– Wes Anderson, Fantastic Mr. Fox

– Kathryn Bigelow, The Hurt Locker

– Steven Soderbergh, The Informant!

– Duncan Jones, Moon

– Cary Fukunaga, Sin Nombre

– Armando Iannucci, In the Loop

– Cyrus Nowrasteh, The Stoning of Soraya M.

– Pete Docter and Bob Peterson, Up

If there are any two films I would recommend as a must see, they’d be The Hurt Locker and Sin Nombre. The power of both films makes me glad to see good filmmakers making good films.

Honorable Mentions:

– Marc Webb, (500) Days of Summer

– Quentin Tarantino, Inglourious Basterds

– Lee Daniels, Precious

– J.J. Abrams, Star Trek

– Jason Reitman, Up in the Air

My least favorite films of ’09: (in ascending order of suckiness)

– Zack Snyder, Watchmen

– McG, Terminator Salvation

– Gavin Hood, X-Men Origins: Wolverine

– Stephen Sommers, G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra

– Shawn Levy, Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian

– Nicholas Jasenovic, Paper Heart

– Oren Peli, Paranormal Activity

Avoid the last two like the plague.

I’m sad to say I didn’t see many new foreign films, particularly almost no new Filipino films at all. So, just for giggles, here are my favorite non-new release foreign films I saw in ’09: (in alphabetical order)

– Francois Truffaut, The 400 Blows

– Apichatpong Weerasethakul, Blissfully Yours

– Akira Kurosawa, The Hidden Fortress

– Hayao Miyazaki, Howl’s Moving Castle

– Masaki Kobayashi, Kwaidan

– Tomas Alfredson, Let the Right One In

– Ishmael Bernal, City After Dark/Manila by Night

– Lino Brocka, Maynila: Sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag

– Auraeus Solito, Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros

– Ingmar Bergman, Scenes from a Marriage

– Brillante Mendoza, Serbis

– Hou Hsiao-Hsien, Three Times