Parasite (2019) – Most Fans on Letterboxd Evaluations #1

I remember when Parasite first made itself known to the Letterboxd community after premiering at Cannes and immediately landing in the number 8 spot of the Top 250 Highest Rated Movies list. I wasn’t familiar with Bong Joon-Ho at the time, but I found myself intrigued about it just because of it’s instantly high average rating. I seem to recall several people commenting on the list, musing it would likely drop off once more audiences were able to see it… how very wrong they turned out to be.

What followed is one of the most unexpected and surprising success stories of modern cinema. Not only did it stay on the Top 250 once more people saw it, it became THE highest rated movie on the website and still is to this day. And this was before it became the first foreign film to win the Best Picture Oscar, a huge box office hit as well as not only Letterboxd’s highest rated movie now with over 500,000 five star ratings, but one of the most viewed, the most popular and indeed, the movie that appears in the most people’s top four favourites! (although as I write this, there is only a 10 person difference between this and Interstellar)

That a subtitled Korean film managed to draw the universal appeal it did is really quite remarkable, but certainly deserved. I’m fully on board with it’s popularity on Letterboxd, agreeing with so much of the acclaim… save for one factor that I’ll get out of the way so I can spend the rest of the article praising Parasite for the terrific movie that it is. A key element as to why it’s so widely loved is it’s re-watch value, getting to pick up on all the hidden details which make the whole experience richer. There is some insanely brilliant bits of foreshadowing, but I’ll confess that despite greatly enjoying re-visiting it on subsequent viewings, it’s never been quite as effective as it was on that first viewing for me personally. It’s a bit like Into the Spider-Verse (another highly rated film on Letterboxd), where it doesn’t give me the same exhilarating high at home as it did on the big screen. Then again, those are two of my favourite cinema-going experiences ever, so home viewings still fulfill.

Going into Parasite knowing as little as I could at the recommendation of most reviewers payed off wonderfully. The thrill of seeing it for the first time is enjoying the sharp humour of the first half a lot before getting caught up in the sheer unpredictability of the second, my jaw dropping on multiple occasions for how crazy some of the twists and turns were. And that brings me nicely onto why I think this movie is in so many peoples top fours, for a rather simple reason: it’s impossible to assign a single genre to it.

Throughout this entire series of reviews, I’ve often mentioned how amalgamating several genre types into one film is a large part as to why I think they are so beloved. Many of the movies I love the most do this, they often feel so much bigger in scale by tackling several styles in one package. And of the six movies discussed in this series of reviews, Parasite is the one to take a stab at the most genres as well as amalgamate them all together the most seamlessly. Which is especially impressive given how dramatic the tonal shifts are in practice. But in Bong Joon-Ho’s execution, the lighter moments never feel out of place alongside the darker material.

It’s all connected together in it’s commentary on class. 2019 saw plenty of movies about the battle between rich and poor, from Knives Out to Joker and Us (my personal favourite) to name a handful. Parasite explores themes found in all those movies in a way that doesn’t feel derivative given how they would’ve all been made in a similar time frame. It has the house ownership angle from Knives Out, the internal lower class rage of Joker and the visual perspective of the lower class quite literally being lower down found in Us, as well as brief moments of Native American imagery.

The perspective Parasite presents is particularly interesting. The window in the Kim’s home is positioned so it’s looking up at the outside world, reflecting their lowly social status. To get to the rich Park’s residence, there’s a big hill they have to traverse as well as tall stairs in the Park’s garden. Not only is this a visually stunning movie anyway, but there’s so much being communicated by the locations; they’re quite literally ascending up the social construct. This is what the first half tackles, the Kim family’s faking a higher-up stature to get jobs for the Park family. It’s crafted differently to the second half, allowing time to see the characters dynamics at play.

Then at the exact halfway point of the film (a genius touch), the descent back down the social construct begins. This is where the movie, for me anyway, goes from being very entertaining to something special, as a war for the lower classes place in the upper class house unfolds. It turns into a thriller of Hitchcockian proportions, told with a similar sense of suspense and real cinematic vigour. The music, frantic camera movements and tight editing work in tandem with the narrative to make for some spellbinding scenes. It’s not only a gripping movie, but one where you can easily appreciate the craft behind it as you’re watching it.

It’s got a little bit of everything, and that’s what makes it so watchable along with making it such a hit in people’s top fours. It excels as entertainment along with something that can be studied and analyzed, but for me it’s biggest strength comes in the instances where everything comes together to create for amazing scenes that, in spite of the lessened impact of knowing how the story plays out, retain their initial power. The napkin, the clean-up and especially the birthday party scene still play as inventive and thrilling to watch as they were on the big screen. The last one especially has got to be one of the most nuts things I’ve witnessed in a cinema, standing out even more for it’s distinctly Korean style of crash zooms and emphasis on crazed reactions.

But what I was most struck by on my viewing for this article was the ending, and how it caps off the social commentary as well as show the poignancy in the re-watch value it has for so many people. Even though seeing it again has never matched the high of that first viewing, I found myself getting excited at the prospect of watching it again as the final moments were still playing. It bookends on a shot very similar to the one that opened the movie but with a more hopeless touch. What I realized that for as crazy as the story gets, it’s merely part of a cycle of the poor trying to live among the rich, and as Ki-woo devises a plan to return back to the house, it’s clear that the cycle is doomed to continue, for as long as plans are devised and viewers return to this movie. But when the allures of the upper class life and the movie itself are as good as they are, it’s hard to resist the temptation.

Interstellar (2014) – Most Fans on Letterboxd Evaluations #2

When it came to this little re-watch project of mine, Interstellar was the movie I was most intrigued to return to. I’d only seen it once, thought it was very good, but it had some flaws and overall wasn’t Christopher Nolan’s finest. But the movie recently hit one million users watched on Letterboxd, and the stats reveal that it has almost 3.5 fans per 100 viewers… which equals over 34,000 people who have it as one of their four favourites! That’s quite a few thousand more than the likes of Inception and even The Dark Knight, which, for a movie I thought was generally considered mid-tier Nolan, is really fascinating to me. I was very eager to re-visit it from the perspective of this project to hopefully understand and feel what all those people are clearly enraptured by.

But before I begin looking into all that, I guess I should get this out of the way: Regardless of how much my opinion of Interstellar may have improved upon a second viewing, this IS my least favourite of the six movies I’ve talked about in this series. To be quite frank, significant chunks of this 169 minute epic do drag when it concerns less compelling side characters, and the end resolution still feels kind of schmaltzy, particularly for as scientifically complex a story as this. I think it’s up there with Tenet as Nolan’s most frustrating film when it comes to deciding how to feel about it. But Interstellar doesn’t frustrate me for the things it gets wrong, it’s that those elements are in a package which contains things that are so insanely, unbelievably brilliant.

For all it’s faults, it manages to be one of the most emotive films I’ve ever seen. When it’s at it’s best, it’s an overwhelming experience of sight, sound and soul that leaves a profound weight on the viewer long after the credits roll. The next time it’s playing in a cinema near me, I’m absolutely going to catch it. Space exploration is fit for the big screen experience, offering escapism by way of exploring distant lands beyond our reach. The black emptiness of space makes seeing it in a dark theatre all the more immersive, and with how immersive the atmosphere and imagery in Interstellar can be, I imagine it would make for an amazing big screen experience.

Some of Christopher Nolan’s favourite movies include the likes of 2001: A Space Odyssey, Alien, Blade Runner and Star Wars, all acclaimed works of science fiction which appear prominently on the 100 Most Fans on Letterboxd list. It’s a genre which has always been immensely popular through books, comics, games and films, whether they offer unique concepts of either a better or broken future, or create an interesting universe with seemingly infinite possibilities. I always enjoy a good sci-fi, and while it’s not my favourite in the genre, Interstellar does stand out amongst what I’ve seen in a way that I believe is why it’s so beloved by so many.

Cooper (Matthew McConaughey) is the ideal protagonist for this movie because he’s a science enthusiast, being a former NASA pilot, and he exhibits a desire to explore beyond what he knows, something a lot of people (particularly those who love the genre) can likely relate to. While I don’t necessarily agree with these complaints, Nolan has sometimes received slack for how his high concept manipulation of time leaves character depth feeling like an afterthought. Personally, I find many of his films emotionally investing, but Interstellar has the greatest universal emotional quality because time itself here directly affects the characters well-being.

What really stands out about this movie and what really got to me upon a re-watch is how it portrays space travel for what it must truly be: insanely terrifying. Sure, I imagine it would be exciting and wonderous, emotions that are also captured very well here too. Many of the in-space sequences have the same slow, hypnotic pace of 2001, which really allows the viewer to bask in the atmosphere and visual beauty of what’s on screen. The cinematography was already beautiful during the opening earth scenes, but it reaches a whole other level of awe inspiring as the Endurance travels through wormholes and black holes before the crew members explore equally stunning looking planets.

And it’s all set to Hans Zimmer’s PHENOMENAL music. As someone who doesn’t love this movie, it’s tempting to say that the score does a lot of the heavy lifting in it’s ability to capture a transcendent sense of the overwhelming nature of the story and imagery. It’s already one of Nolan’s largest films in scale, and the music (quite literally) propels the epic weight of the story into the stratosphere. It’s incredibly powerful stuff.

What the score also does well is capture a sense of incomprehensibility. People are drawn to the idea of space travel for the allure of discovering the unknown. Looking up at the stars captures the imaginations of writers, directors and the general public because they can mold the unknown into exciting potential, of lands and sights so much more exciting than what can be found on earth. Cooper shares a similar sentiment early on, but so much of Interstellar winds up being driven by the likely reality of having to deal with the shifting sense of time, the isolation and the unexplainable phenomena’s and mysteries beyond what we are able to perceive. Human’s aren’t emotionally capable to comprehend any of those things, and this movie nails how scary it most probably is to come to grips with it all.

The scene after the return from the planet where an hour is equivalent to seven years on earth (in a couple of months, the movie will be an hour old!) and Cooper plays back years of messages from his family and is forced to watch his kids grow up in a matter of moments very powerful because it captures the psychological toll of space travel in a viscerally profound way. Cooper experiences the story in what must feel like a few weeks while an entire life-time goes by on Earth. What’s worse, much of what they do amounts to little in the grand scheme of things. So even as we see incredible sights, we’re aware of the precious time that’s slipping away. Nowhere is that more apparent than in the shot where Jessica Chastain is sending the message into space about how the mission is pointless as the camera pans to the ship heading for the next planet. In combination with the preceding moments and Zimmer’s music, it’s a haunting moment.

The film is so emotionally affecting because it presents transportive cinema grounded in feelings we can identify with put on the biggest scale imaginable, and then some. Regardless of the issues I have with it, the ending left me with this overwhelmed feeling that really made it feel like I’d been on this ginormous expedition which irreversibly changed the lives of those involved.

I still don’t fully know how to feel about the end resolution, because it takes a movie so grounded in hard scientific facts and turns it into something more sentimental, but maybe that’s what people find so powerful about it; for all of the accurate science behind what came before, it’s the emotional truth of the connection between father and daughter which ultimately redeems humanity. Love is as boundless as space itself, and for as corny as I found writing that to be, perhaps, in the vast, dangerous expanse of space, that’s the only truth we can hold onto to keep us persevering through the frightening unknown.

La La Land (2016) – Most Fans on Letterboxd Evaluations #3

As we pass the halfway mark in this series of reviews, you might be wondering about my own Letterboxd top four. Have I contributed to any of these movies being so high up in the Most Fans list, being one of literally thousands of users who absolutely adores it enough to show it proudly on their profile as a Favourite? Well, considering I haven’t brought the notion up until now, I’m sure it’s fairly self explanatory that La La Land is that movie. So explaining why it’s so revered by so many people should be easy enough!

Every time I see it, I get this feeling that I’m watching THE movie. Like all the other films I’ve seen have been building up to this single, ultimate cinematic experience. There’s a real buzz in the air whenever I stick it on, and no matter how many times I’ve watched it or whatever mood I’m in when I do so, that feeling never goes away. Outside of it seeming to sum up why I find this art form so great, I think that’s the main reason I call it my favourite film.

But funnily enough, it doesn’t feel right saying that’s it’s my favourite movie musical, even though it clearly must be. An interesting tidbit about the Most Fans statistics is that La La Land is the musical with the most fans at 30K users, followed not very closely with Mamma Mia’s 8.1k users. Clearly it’s not the most popular genre for Letterboxd users favourites (compared to the 11 horror films in the top 100), so the fact that it’s so high up in the ranking is intriguing.

Personally, I love a great musical. When they’re at their best, it feels like the most inherently cinematic genre, in which happiness, desire, frustration, sadness, really the whole gambit of emotions can be expressed through song and dance in a manner which can only feel natural in the movies. There’s a scene in The Band Wagon where Fred Astaire dances while simply getting his shoes shined, and it’s as exhilarating to watch as any action scene.

It’s a genre which seems to always exist in it’s own little world. The old school classics shot on the MGM sets are unabashedly aware of being make believe, and the aforementioned Mamma Mia puts itself on a beautiful Greek island where the worries are minimal and the energy of the Abba songs are infectious. Even some of my favourites like West Side Story or Chicago, which have a little more grit to them, have such a sharp liveliness to the colours, movements and camera angles that creates an always heightened sense of reality.

La La Land operates differently in that yes, it does present it’s own unique, dazzling world-view, but it does so in a way which makes it stand out from it’s many influences as something special which can connect to even those who may not be as into musicals. The opening freeway number, for instance, sets up the entire film magnificently. After panning through a series of impatient cars honking alongside all the different tunes playing in the different cars, we get this wonderful ensemble between dreamers who are all connected by their ambition to make it big in L.A. presented in an energetic long take. It crescendos into the amazing image of all the people on their cars dancing against a beautiful L.A. backdrop, it finishes, they get back into their cars, the title comes up… and they go back to honking their horns, annoyed at the traffic once again.

It’s a microcosm of the entire movie, presenting the joyful delirium of romanticism before crashing right back down to the harsh realities of trying to make it big. I really love how we get this opening scene before being introduced to the main characters, suggesting all the drivers are on the same literal and metaphorical road and will go through the same experiences. The camera just so happens to land on Mia and Sebastian and becomes eager to follow their story. All of the night-time cityscape shots are beautiful, the flickering lights off in the distance feeling like the exciting possibility of other tales unfolding even as we follow this one.

It creates a very dreamy, delirious atmosphere which makes the musical moments feel completely natural in the context of this world. Some people complained that Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone aren’t the greatest singers or dancers when compared to some of the greats of yesteryear, but the fact that they aren’t these phenomenal professionals is why it’s so perfect; the characters aren’t dancing because it’s a musical and there hasn’t been a song number for a while, they’re doing it out of a desire to express themselves through sheer impulse. When I said it doesn’t feel right to call it my favourite musical, I meant that as a huge compliment because it never is one out of a sense of obligation. It feels more genuine than any other musical I’ve seen, particularly in how Damien Chazelle uses those sequences as actual storytelling devices.

This is a much smarter film than it appears at a first glance, beginning mostly as a full blown escapist extravaganza with just enough hints of the realist edge that’ll become more pronounced as the film goes on. Early on the film sings about how someone in the crowd will be the one to take Mia where she wants to go. The romantic in us would think that someone would be Sebastian when in actuality it’s referring to the casting director who is literally in the crowd of Mia’s one woman show late into the film. Those little contrasts between fantastical thinking and the reality of what it really is can be found all over the film, in obvious and subtler ways too. After the halfway mark, the cuts between scenes become a lot more obvious, without any music or other segues between them. The first time it happens is very noticeable, an immediate clue that the relationship and their dreamy attitude towards things is about to embark on a downward spiral.

And it all moves to what is still my favourite climax to any film. It’s a scene which perfectly summates the power of cinema to me; it’s a wonderfully crafted moment on it’s own, but it simply cannot be as effective without the build up of the rest of the movie. It’s what the whole thing, weaving from soaring romance to a more grounded relationship drama, has been leading towards the entire time. It turns a trend from the old musicals which has always felt like an unnecessarily long show off into a beautifully bittersweet symphony that wraps up the movie with a glorious bow. Everything beforehand is not only phenomenally entertaining, but every moment of chemistry and contrast serves it’s purpose to deliver one of the biggest knockouts of a finale I’ve ever seen… the fact Chazelle pulled that off again right after Whiplash (another masterpiece, god-damn) cements him as one of my favourite directors on the strength of just two films.

Honestly, I could keep going with observations and other parts I love, and I probably will on my YouTube channel one day, but for now let’s go back to all those people who have it in their top fours. It’s a film which is easy to love for all sorts of different reasons, whether you find it purely feel good or appreciate the hints of cynicism as well, but I think there is at least one constant emotion between those 30,000 people. There’s the scene where Mia and Seb go to see Rebel Without a Cause and the projector breaks just before they kiss for the first time. Symbolic in how the rest of the movie will be about the illusion of Hollywood escapism shattered, but for now Rebel’s soundtrack perfectly accompanied them meeting eyes just as it started and they then head over to Griffith’s Observatory to remain in the state it’s put them in for perhaps the most purely fantastical moment in the entire movie.

Has a single movie moment ever been a finer love letter to the movies? Eventually the lights will come up and you’ll be forced to return to reality, but the great movies (let’s just pretend I didn’t think Rebel Without a Cause was only okay or that I only watched it because of this and The Disaster Artist) leave a lasting spark, keeping you in it’s world and emotions long after the images have played on the screen. It’s the high any movie lover craves, and La La Land is one of the few movies to accurately capture the feeling of chasing after that high whilst simultaneously giving it to the viewer through every fleeting moment. It seems only fitting to end by quoting a Letterboxd review which describes it best: “Damien Chazelle has crafted it all with such love and ingenuity and luster and sumptuousness that you just don’t fall for it; you let it come and hum inside you every day since you’ve first seen it.”

Pulp Fiction (1994) – Most Fans on Letterboxd Evaluations #4

I’m a big fan of Quentin Tarantino. His movies are full of great lines, quirky characters and a style which makes his work so inherently watchable to me. Now being a 2000’s kid meant that by the time I was mature enough to begin discovering his movies, Pulp Fiction, probably his most famous work, had long since left an indelible mark on pop culture.

Anyone watching for the first time years after release is most likely familiar with at least one element of the movie before going into it. You might have seen it parodied or referenced in the likes of The Simpsons or Space Jam, maybe you were aware of the dance, the opening music or, if you’re like me… Winston Wolfe.

Seeing it for the first time in 2019 meant the character had been ingrained into my mind for a while thanks to the Direct Line Insurance adverts, an odd but apparent way this movie has remained in the public conscious all this time later. But beyond being payed homage to, hundreds of film-makers were influenced by it’s free-flowing dialogue, use of a jukebox soundtrack and the intertwining tales of gangsters facing action and mundane situations.

So yeah, it’s a significant landmark in film history. You know it, and I know it, although I prefer not to judge movies based on how important or influential they were/are to the medium, particularly in this series of reviews. It still holds up really well as a great and hugely entertaining film, as well as one that still stands alone even amongst the dozens of movies it inspired in it’s wake. And the reason for that is actually very simple…

The sequence at Jack Rabbit Slim’s is quintessential Tarantino. Vincent (John Travolta) has to take his bosses wife Mia (Uma Thurman) out for a fun time while he’s out of town. She takes him to this 50’s themed restaurant, filled to the brim with film posters, cars and waiters dressed as movie stars from that era (that’s Steve Buscemi as Buddy Holly, fun fact). Looking back, this set devoted to nostalgic relics is essentially a prototype Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood.

Anyway, the two sit down and begin an excellently written and performed conversation about… nothing in particular. They discuss a pilot Mia was in, the mystery surrounding why Marcellus Wallace (her husband, his boss) threw a guy out of a four-story window and the art of an uncomfortable silence, among other things. But of course, the energy and naturalism of the dialogue is very fascinating to hear, particularly how the actors perform it. When Mia is describing the failed pilot of Fox Force Five, Uma Thurman talks with a real fondness and reminiscence for what the show could have been. And Vincent’s reaction to trying the five dollar milkshake is a small but memorable moment; these are larger than life characters, yet there’s often a relatability to the way they react and respond to situations which make you nod in recognition.

Then we get to the iconic dance scene, one of several examples of Tarantino’s great music choices (only the second best Chuck Berry based movie scene, though!) in which he makes nods to the likes of Jean-Luc Godard and The Aristocats, demonstrating his unabashed love for movies of all kinds and referencing them in his own. The whole sequence in this particular location is great, but it begs the question: what is the purpose of this scene in the greater context of the story? Really, what is the purpose and ultimate meaning behind this movie?

Why does it present several stories out of chronology? Is there a specific reason we open on the beginnings of the restaurant robbery only to return to it at the very end, which technically isn’t the ending? What’s up with all those transitions done with a little flash? What’s in the briefcase? WHY was this movie made the way it was? I can’t come up with a concrete reason as to what this movie is trying to achieve. I don’t think it is attempting to achieve anything higher than being an entertaining experience, and I think that’s what people love about it so much. Why were all those stylistic choices made… well, why not?

I’m often not a fan of dialogue heavy movies, but Pulp Fiction works because it is solely about the dialogue interactions for the most part. It’s not a movie telling it’s story through dialogue, it’s a dialogue driven movie. Sometimes it’s just casual chit chat. Other times there’s a rhythm to it (“Zed’s dead, baby!”) and most of the time it reveals character in a memorable way. A way which probably won’t be appreciated until a subsequent viewing, and thus the re-watch value comes in! Jumping backwards and forwards in time through the three main stories makes it a lot more interesting to watch than if it had been in order, and allows the viewer to notice how they all subtly connect and create a complete picture the more it gets watched (ever noticed Vincent going to the toilet in the opening scene?).

The screenplay could and can be analyzed intently to reveal the richer experience, but it’s all purely about the world and characters it creates rather than some hidden conspiracy which critiques capitalism or something. It’s a movie with a capital M, and it loves being that. The stylistic quirks like the projected backgrounds while driving, Bruce Willis picking a katana of all things to take down the sick rapists and the mystery of the briefcase feel so perfectly fictionalized and unique for this universe.

The last point especially is noteworthy, because it does leave you with all these unanswered questions and ideas which fuel the viewers imagination. What IS in that case? Does Jules continue on his path for redemption? (I’m surprised I haven’t spoken about Samuel L. Jackson at all so far. His chemistry with John Travolta is great and his presence in the apartment scene is pretty awesome) What is Mia and Marcellus Wallace’s relationship actually like? We never see the two have a proper interaction, but we see them interact individually with plenty of others.

Again, it all adds to the re-watch value and staying power of the experience. It’s just a great, entertaining time that has Tarantino’s enthusiasm for movie-making plastered all over it, which rubs off on the viewer to become as much fun to watch and talk about as it probably was to make it. It’s beloved by so many people simply because sometimes it’s nice to watch something which operates only under the rule of cool. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off for a Royale with Cheese…

The Dark Knight (2008) – Most Fans on Letterboxd Evaluations #5

I think it’s safe to say that Christopher Nolan has already cemented himself as one of the most influential film-makers of the 21st century, with several movies of his surely destined to remain classics in the years to come (I still have another one of his films to discuss in this series of reviews). He always makes movies which feel big in either ambition, scope or indeed both, and this is one of several instances for him where he pulls off both magnificently. But he does so in a different way to the rest of his filmography which makes it his most riveting as well as make it a popular choice for Letterboxd users top fours, which is, after all, what I’m here to understand.

But before we properly begin, I should get something out of the way: I do love this movie, but it’s not my favourite Batman movie. For as much as the title The Dark Knight seems to be staking a claim for it’s own, definitive vision of Batman, I think, for most people, what immediately springs to mind when they hear that title is The Joker and Heath Ledger, with good reason of course. Christian Bale does a very good job too (even if this is where his voice got a little too gruff), but his internal battle, while interesting, isn’t quite as central or powerful as it is in something like Mask of the Phantasm, which for me is the best Batman movie. And if I’m completely honest, while I’m always happy to revisit this film, I’m also much likelier to return to the campy joy of Adam West’s movie as the caped crusader or the exquisitely stylized atmosphere of Dawn of Justice. That’s not me critiquing The Dark Knight, it’s just my personal preference.

Putting that aside though, I do completely understand why this would be considered the apex of superhero cinema. I’ve seen the movie multiple times, but every time I sit down to watch it again and it gets to that first shot of Heath Ledger with his back to the camera holding the clown mask (which, fun fact, is the same design as the one Caesar Romero wore in the 66 show!), there’s still such an immediate sense of presence and anticipation for what’s to come.

The thrilling bank heist opener lets the viewer in on a couple of things. Firstly, it does a wonderful job of preparing us for what this incarnation of The Joker is all about. The other robbers musing about him and why he’s called The Joker establishes he already has a reputation, then the execution of the heist itself with each robber getting picked off by one another sets up his criminal mastermind side too. It’s a clever bit of storytelling most people won’t notice because of how exciting the sequence is to watch. And that’s the second thing the opening informs us: this is going to be one hell of a gripping movie.

At one point during my last re-watch, I found myself thirsty so I decided to wait for a good moment to pause and get some water. With most movies, that’d be right away. This took 20 minutes before I finally forced myself to, and part of the reason I did was because the truck chase was just about to start and I knew after that there’d be no point where I could tear myself away from the screen. It really sucks you in, one of those movies where once you start you can’t help but reach the end. And even though I complimented the first scene earlier, once the credits rolled I realized I’d completely forgotten about it because I got so wrapped up in the story I was completely focused on whatever scene was happening right then and there with no thought to what had come before or what was coming. To me, that’s the true sign of a great movie.

But let’s look over why it is a favourite for so many people, more specifically why it stands out as one of the most universally beloved superhero films. I mentioned earlier about how most people immediately associate this movie with Heath Ledger’s Joker (the Letterboxd poster only has him on it, after all), and his Oscar-winning turn is undeniably a huge part of it’s instant classic status. I really liked the Joker movie, but this is still the ultimate re-invention of probably the greatest villain in all pop culture into a more plausible figure who didn’t fall into a vat of acid. His look, the sense of mystery surrounding him, the myriad of quotes ranging from funny to thought-provoking, those chilling video tapes and how intimidating he is; it really feels like he sends Gotham into anarchy in the third act – he’s an unforgettable villain whose motives and ideas are still getting discussed all these years after release.

But at it’s core, this is an ensemble piece, and against Ledger’s gargantuan performance, it’s easy to forget about how many other excellent roles there are here too. There’s some great banter between Bruce Wayne and Alfred or Lucius Fox which lends a lot of heart and humour to an otherwise dark and gritty film. And the likes of Rachel, Harvey Dent and Commissioner Gordon are equally as compelling and their journeys in the film are riveting to see unfold.

And there’s a wide plethora of side characters, from those running the mob and the corrupt cops in the GPD, it’s a rich tapestry of interesting and memorable roles who make this comic-book blockbuster feel more akin to a crime epic. You become invested in the characters, The Joker’s fascinating moral quandaries about the social construct and Dent’s fall from grace, and the complete commitment to the sense of realism Batman Begins didn’t quite reach cements it as something which feels really grounded and bold elevates it beyond being a simple superhero movie.

But the fact that it is a superhero movie gives it a unique accessibility by allowing incredible action to unfold in a natural manner as well as lend it a surprising sense of playfulness with elements like the copycat Batmen, the hostages made to look like the hostage takers and virtually any scene involving Lucius adding some creative invention which works well in both the comic book and the realist crime story side.

Nolan likes to really play around with time, how it works and how it’s perceived. The Dark Knight is one of (if not his only) movie to simply tell a story in chronological order from beginning to end without any significant time jumps or flashbacks. This allows him to give more complexity to the character drama but also allows him to focus more on one of his more compelling talents: cross-cutting. The way he effortlessly jumps from both Rachel and Harvey held hostage, Batman and Gordon racing to the rescue, The Joker interacting with Detective Biggs from L.A. Noire and the ill guy locked up in a cell after the iconic interrogation scene is absolutely gripping, keeping the tension at a maximum throughout. It’s repeated again in the third act with the two ferries intercut with the Batman VS The Joker action.

And he is an absolute master at cross-cutting during the final scene in most of his work, and this one especially, complimented by an unsurprisingly wonderful Hans Zimmer score, comes off as poignantly tragic yet triumphant in equal measure. The editing is expertly handled throughout the entire movie in this way, aiding to make each moment as effective as possible.

It uses all of these aforementioned elements to create a wholly gripping experience every-time. It’d be easy for me to say this movie appears on lots of Letterboxd users top fours because it’s bloody excellent, but I believe it’s also how it amalgamates superhero action, gangster mob elements and complicated philosophies about what people see in icons and society in general into a gripping yarn which satisfies both as an exciting blockbuster epic as well as an intellectually engaging work of art. It has the confidence and conviction to FEEL like the ultimate incarnation of all the genres it tackles. What we’re left with is a broad crowd-pleaser: a movie where you’re instantly hooked by how interesting the characters and questions posed are, as well as how god-damn awesome that bike is.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) – Most Fans on Letterboxd Evaluations #6

A feature of film social media website Letterboxd which I’ve become fascinated by is where, on your profile, you can list four movies as your Favourites. You are then known as a Fan of that movie, and late last year I found myself going through the movies I hadn’t seen from a list of the 100 films with the highest number of Fans.

To me, it’s more interesting than a simple “best films of all time” list because people’s absolute favourites aren’t usually the most technically efficient ones, this is a list of films which invigorate the movie-going souls of literally thousands of people. Having seen all 100 now, I’ve been eager to go back and re-visit the six movies at the very top of the list that I’d seen prior to my fascination with the “Fans” feature. And in the following series of reviews, I want to give you my own personal take on the movies which over 25,000 users (and more!) love enough to be in their top four, as well as to understand what it is about them which strikes an emotional chord with so many people.

And with all that out of the way, let’s look at the film with the sixth highest number of Fans: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind!

This was primarily written by Charlie Kaufman, a very brilliant writer to many a Letterboxd user. I’ve had a difficult relationship with his work, as much as I can appreciate how fiercely open they feel to Kaufman’s mental state, it, uh… can come off as really pretentious at times to me. The likes of Adaptation and I’m Thinking of Ending Things have their good moments but ultimately drag on for me, and I flat out dislike Anomalisa. In something like Synecdoche, New York, he presents a really unique concept ripe for invention and creativity, but ultimately finds himself pre-occupied in wallowing in his own self-pretension instead.

I feel he’s at his best when he focuses on those imaginative premises and exploits the creative potential out of them. Being John Malkovich is a pretty good movie, but for me his crowning achievement and his only great work (remember, my opinion!) is Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. As most of his work offers, it has a great premise: A company which specializes in completely erasing unwanted memories from people’s minds. The large majority of the film takes place during the erasure process in the mind of Joel (played by Jim Carrey), who wants to forget his former lover Clementine (Kate Winslet) after she already removed him from her memory.

The procedure sees him go through all his memories of her, starting at the end of their relationship and moving backwards. As Joel goes through the uglier moments which saw their love fracture, he’s only more than happy to get rid of her from his mind. But as he starts seeing his happiest moments with her crumble and erase around him, he realizes he doesn’t want to forget those times, but it’s already too late…

The way director Michel Gondry quite literally captures the inner workings of the mind as pieces of it get removed and taken away is where a lot of the fun of watching this movie lies. The creativity of how it’s presented leads to plenty of clever and inventively crafted moments, with lots of satisfying details you won’t catch onto until you see the movie a second time. That might be why I’ve struggled with the sub-plot involving the people performing the erasure in the real world during past viewings, where the scenes in Joel’s mind are so crazy these bits slow the momentum down. But the more I see it, the less these scenes hurt the pacing.

But where those parts took me three viewings to finally appreciate, I’ve always been enamored with the realistic vibe of the earlier scenes. Obviously being shot in real locations helps in that regard, but it always feels like there’s no artificially produced lighting in these parts. The grey of the sky in the opening, the little burst of golden hour sun at the entrance of Lacuna Inc, it feels real in a way few films do, and it subtly, but very effectively, sets up the contrast for when things begin to become more chaotic.

So it’s a wildly entertaining premise, but it’s also very emotionally powerful too. I don’t know if Kaufman inserted any of himself into this project like his others, but it’s the only one where it actively aids the premise to great effect. Much like Adam Sandler’s brilliant performance in Punch-Drunk Love, you can sense the usual Jim Carrey persona waiting to burst out of the character of Joel, but it’s buried underneath all his insecurities. You can sense Jim Carrey’s famous manic energy bubbling under the surface, but Joel isn’t comfortable enough to unleash it. I do think his turn in The Truman Show is slightly better, but this is still another memorable restrained role for Carrey.

On the flip side, Clementine is as loudly open and exuberant as the most loudly open and exuberant Jim Carrey roles. Perhaps that’s what Joel is drawn to, he sees his inner self personified in another. Clementine is probably the most “independent film” thing about the movie with her dyed hair and rambunctious attitude, but Winslet makes her into a believable character who works off Joel really nicely. Amid all the heartbreak, there is a nice romance in here too.

“Wish me a happy Valentine’s day when you call!” she excitedly calls to Joel when he leaves her home. “That’d be nice.” she adds tenderly. Joel smiles and continues to walk in the snow accompanied by Jon Brion’s instantly nostalgic soundtrack. It’s a small moment, but it beautifully captures the bittersweet joy of newfound love, which becomes even more resonant when you know at what point in the story that scene takes place at.

Most of, if not all of us have painful memories of hardship and loss which I’m sure we wish we could forget, and the movie taps directly into that. While Joel waits with his soon to be disposed possessions associated with Clementine, he sits next to other people about to undergo the same process as him. It makes you wonder if they go through the exact same journey as Joel does, that realization of regret. What did Clementine’s erasure look like? Does everyone who gets their mind erased only understand the gravity of the action once they’re in there and it’s too late?

And it’s the unique message at the core of this film which I believe makes it resonate with lots of people, particularly those who have gone through similar romantic turmoil. It asks us if we’d really be better off without remembering those moments of hurt, because they only hurt because the good times were so good. Because of how the film is structured, it presents their first meeting in an inherently bittersweet way. It hurts Joel to think about, but is that because of the events that followed or that he’ll never return to or remember it? It’s very profound stuff, the cinematic equivalent of the quote “Tis’ better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all”.

Are Joel and Clementine doomed to repeat their troubles all over again? Perhaps, but that’s not the point of the ending. The allure of perfect moments shared together is worth infinitely more than any of the baggage that comes with being in a relationship. For every fantastical moment Eternal Sunshine throws at you, the honesty of what it’s trying to say about love always keeps it grounded in that universal truth. Another quote springs to mind, this one from Dr. Seuss: “Don’t cry (or indeed, try to erase it from your mind) because it’s over, smile because it happened.”

The Truman Show (1998) – Breaking the Boundaries of Fiction in Film and TV

Film and television is essentially a collection of puppet shows. An unseen visionary controls and manipulates their subjects to create a series of events. Their subjects are humans, whether actors or ordinary people living out their lives on reality TV.  Both independently co-exist in the world of pop culture, but The Truman Show is about both: actors acting in a fantasy world and an ordinary person going about their day to day reality, all with a director pulling the strings out of sight.

The title refers to a always on air reality show following Jim Carrey’s Truman Burbank, who’s spent his whole life oblivious to the fact he is being televised, everyone around him are paid actors and that his hometown is actually a set inside a massive dome. This average Joe is actually a megastar in the real world as his routines are captured 24/7 for everyone to see from their screens.

His whole world is being controlled and planned intensely ahead of him, the same people pass him every morning, his wife will occasionally promote products to the audience Truman isn’t aware of, and after many years, his thought to be dead “father” suddenly re-appears. Like every reality show, it isn’t truly real.

The film is about Truman discovering that his existence has been manufactured from the beginning, as he desperately wants to see the rest of the world as his world does everything in it’s power to prevent him from leaving. In a sense, he wants to leave the movie we’re watching too, but the powers behind it won’t let him.

It’s a fascinating narrative to see unfold, with an impressively restrained Jim Carrey (see also Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind) pulling you into both the humour and the twisted nature of the predicament Truman is in. But what really makes this movie fascinating to me is how it’s both about this fictional work of media as well as all media. Many fictional characters who lead mundane existences are hugely popular in the real world, they just don’t know it. When being interviewed, the director of the show says the defining line of the film: “We accept the reality of the world with which we are presented”. That’s true for both the consumer (us) and the characters within fictional worlds. But in the end, it’s all an illusion, and unlike most fictional characters, Truman begins to see through it.

Another interesting thing to consider is how we are as guilty as those in the film who are watching the show: we too, are spying into Truman’s world. In many ways, this is the cinematic equivalent of Metal Gear Solid 2, a game which makes you responsible for puppeteering the main character through these controlled scenarios like the ulterior forces within the story.

Both works do a great job of breaking the illusion of the art itself. No matter how invested we get, deep down it’s all an act, and The Truman Show actively sets out to expose that. At the end, Truman hits the edge of the set, discovering this world has been manufactured before he finds the doorway into reality and leaves the illusion behind for good. What really drives this idea of the bridge between fantasy and reality within this story home is that we don’t see what happens next once he sets foot into the real world, as the real world lies beyond our screens, without a guiding force in control of everything around us. Truman hasn’t just exited the set of the show, he’s freed himself from the film too.

 

 

 

 

Why Airplane! (1980) Remains King of the Spoof

Top Secret! The Naked Gun. Hot Shots. What do all these films have in common? Well, they’re all spoofs that came out after Airplane! from most of the same team, I mostly enjoyed them but my primary thought after all of them was “They had their moments, but they just weren’t as funny as Airplane…”

Any time I watch a spoof of that nature, I can’t help but make the comparison, but what is it about Airplane! that those other movies fail to live up to? Well, we follow Ted Striker, a former war pilot getting on a flight to try and re-connect with the love of his life. But disaster strikes as everyone who ordered fish off the menu becomes incredibly sick, including all of the pilots. So it’s up to Striker to overcome his war-time trauma and land the plane. It’s typically thought of as a parody of the disaster movie genre, but you might be surprised to learn that this is actually a remake!

Surely I can’t be serious? I am serious (And don’t call me Shirley.), the plot and most of the dialogue was lifted straight from the often forgotten 1957 thriller Zero Hour. It’s kind of funny to watch comparisons of the two films on YouTube, as you witness dialogue from one movie taking things seriously and the exact same lines morphed into comedy gold in another.

And I think that’s the secret trick that makes Airplane! work so well. It wasn’t originally envisioned as a comedy, meaning that a lot of the humour comes from how seriously the actors take the situation whilst spurting out the most absurd dialogue. Leslie Nielson is a key example. In The Naked Gun, he’ll give a little look at the camera or pull a silly face to let you know what just happened was funny. I don’t think he even cracks a grin in Airplane, which makes things much funnier. There’s also little winking to the camera, when something funny happens, characters carry on like nothing happened, which again, is a lot funnier.

The deadpan nature really is what sets it apart from other spoofs. Those other movies came after Airplane, meaning that they were written 100% as comedies, and making a bigger deal out of the comedy than they needed to. But for the original, they took a cheesy script for a serious drama with lines like “”Everyone’s life on board depends on finding someone who can not only fly this plane, but who didn’t have fish for dinner”, got the right actors to deliver these lines so they sounded hilarious instead, and added even more humour to the situation thanks to some great visual comedy and memorable supporting roles. An obscure drama became a beloved farce instead.

Airplane! continues to be one of my favourite comedies because it’s humour is loud enough to guarantee laughs and yet subtle enough to ensure you miss some jokes and make some of the straight line deliveries funnier the more you think about them. The other spoofs are only loud, meaning they lack the same re-watchability. It’s an entirely different kind of memorable, altogether!

 

Inazuma Eleven: The Movie (2010) and the Dangerous Power of Nostalgia

The year was 2011. In the summer, I had fallen in love with the Professor Layton series, so upon discovering that Level 5 had another IP to their name, the first Inazuma Eleven became a Christmas present before I became hooked to that series as well. It follows enthusiastic football captain Mark Evans as his team, the Raimon Eleven, become stronger players as they first take on the country’s best, then aliens (no, really) and eventually: the world!

I’m not much of a football fan, but the gameplay was addictive and the stories, while cheesy, had great characters that enthralled me in both the games and the anime series. So when I was lacking a creative spark yesterday, I decided to finally check out the movie to hopefully bring a smile to my face. And within the first few seconds, it did! Hearing the Raimon Academy theme again hit me right in the nostalgia, and I got ready to have a great time watching it. But as the film progressed, I became a lot more conflicted about my feelings…

So the movie sees a group of baddies in the future who want Mark Evan’s influence on people to be drastically decreased (leading to delightfully corny lines where “Let’s Play Football!” is apparently devil talk), so they explore his past to find the perfect opportunity to make him fall out of love with the sport.

Now “exploration of Mark’s past” is just a nice way of saying that about 70 to 75% of the run-time is directly from the anime. It goes through a massive chunk of the first season, occasionally interrupted by the bad guys comments and Mark’s future great grandson investigating the matter. It even gets to the point where the story just montages through a good chunk of the series!

Even if you’d never seen the show, it’d be obvious that you’re not watching one whole product as during the new parts of the movie, the animation is noticeably much smoother and crisp.

And this is where I feel very conflicted. On the one hand, this obviously comes off as very lazy and it can feel very sloppily integrated at times. But on the other hand… it’s still Inazuma Eleven. The music still pumped me up and the characters still charmed me, and the final match (which is when you get nothing but movie exclusive scenes) is pretty thrilling stuff.

I’d seen most of the movie before I’d actually watched it, but it still managed to entertain me. But I could just have easily gotten the same entertainment from just watching the anime, and that has the bonus of having all the details and not just the key scenes.

Being a movie on it’s own, it’s clearly not great, but because of how much I love the series, it still won me over to an extent. I have been listening to the Inazuma soundtrack since watching it and reminiscing on some of the series’ great moments. But at the end of the day, I’m not sure if I actually liked the movie, or if I just like Inazuma Eleven…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Internal and External Battles in Us (2019)

I like movies that are able to be many things at once. Many of my all time favourites are able to weave from different emotions to different genres and different styles without missing a step, feeling like I’ve just watched an entire film festival in one sitting. I’ve also become a big fan of movies that I can analyze for hidden details and potential meanings, granted they have a hook that makes me want to think about them.

It’s no surprise then that my current favourite movie of the year would be something like Us, Jordan Peele’s grind-house AND art-house tour de force. The UK doesn’t get the Blu-Ray until later this month, but I’ve spent enough time thinking about it since I came out of the cinema in April to have become incredibly excited for a re-watch.

The film follows the Wilsons, a quirky but ultimately average American family. We see them for the first time as they arrive at their holiday home in Santa Cruz for a relaxing weekend away. But seeing as this is a horror movie, their trip is anything but, as after a strange day at the beach, the power goes out and a home invasion unfolds. The Wilsons soon find themselves in a tense game of cat and mouse as they fend for themselves… against themselves, as their invaders are strange doppelgängers (known as the Tethered) that seem to reflect their own insecurities in dangerous ways.

That’s just the basic premise, as there’s way, WAY more going on, both in plain site and under the surface, should you wish to examine it. It’s easy to just get caught up in this suspenseful ride with it’s likeable characters and slick film-making, which is what the first viewing is for. Once I really began to think about everything on offer is when it became really exciting, and if you’re gearing yourself up for a first or second viewing, here’s just a few interesting details to take note of.

The film can be seen as a few different battles, from nature and nurture, but also between the lower, middle and upper class. The Tethered represent the lower class lashing out at the privileged, and the Wilsons friends, the Tyler family, are higher class. Even though the Tylers have little screen time, they add plenty of interesting elements to different interpretations. In this case, they’re the wealthiest characters in the movie, yet they don’t get along and when things go awry, they rely too much on their technology and thus sink without even trying to swim on their own.

Now the Wilsons are the middle class, who seem to take elements from the best of both worlds. They’ve enjoyed luxury, but they instantly go into survival instinct once the events take a dark turn, and it’s interesting to note how they often manage to outsmart their Tethered counterparts by using tools unavailable to the lower class (cars, boats and a flare gun being the most obvious examples).

And this also highlights one of the most interesting elements of the film as a whole. The Tethered can be seen as projections of that persons inner demons, most clearly shown in the spectacular final showdown, as protagonist Adelaide (possibly named after the city Down Under?) struggles to literally keep up with her past in the form of Red, who continually toys with her like a memory you want to but can’t forget.

To be honest, I could go on and on with ideas and observations, but for the sake of having a somewhat consistent article, I’ll stop with what I’ve got. Besides, part of the fun of experiencing the movie is watching it unfold in front of you before it leaves your mind whirring with ideas. So when it hits store shelves, give it a watch, lose yourself in a cinematic whirlwind of suspense and humour and enjoy coming to your own conclusions.