Ernest & Celestine (2012)

It is difficult to pinpoint exactly what I love most about the 2012 French animated feature Ernest & Celestine. Be it the story, animation style, or voice acting this little gem of a film can match any Pixar, Disney, or DreamWorks corporate concoction blow for blow, all in less time and with less cloying sentimentality.

Inspired by the works of Belgian author and illustrator Gabrielle Vincent, the titular characters of the film are immediately painted as outsiders at the opening of the picture. The bear Ernest, a loud and hulking starving artist, shunned from the quaint village life that the middle class bears we see in the picture live in, all because he refused to continue to live in the bourgeoisie bliss that his forbearers had planned for him. While in similar circumstances the mouse Celestine, toils underfoot of prejudiced mice and bears, forced to collect the fallen teeth of spoiled little bear cubs to be used to repair the busted choppers of her mouse brethren. Their fates intertwine when Ernest’s hunger and Celestine’s fascination with the “Big Bad Bear” lead both to rob a middle class bear family of their sweets and their pearly white merchandise, an action which leads to them spending an entire winter together as they try and evade the cops.

Though the two meet by chance, it’s not such a leap of faith to believe that these two could be merely just accomplices. They are, to use an oft-used cliché, soul mates. Not in the romantic sense of the word though. Ernest and Celestine’s relationship is akin more to that of Marc Anthony and Pussyfoot in the classic Merrie Melodies short Feed the Kitty (1952), a closeness analogous to that of close siblings or longtime friends.

And as far as influences are concerned, Hayao Miyazaki and Studio Ghibli are stamped on every cell of this film. From the use of watercolors, lines that flow through the screen as light as air and at times burst into a starburst of colors, natural landscapes, and an evocative soundtrack. Ernest & Celestine, like the best Ghibli pictures, are all about mood and atmosphere and goes a long way to prove that animation is not just for kids.

Film Log 6.01.2015

Neko Samurai (2014)

Director: Yoshitaka Yamaguchi
Number of viewings: 1

Comments: As a cat lover maybe I am preternaturally disposed to liking this film, but so what. Neko Samurai is such a sweet endearing film. Yes, the drama can get very saccharine at times but the film earns its kawaii moments.

Rigodon (2012)

Erik Matti is a very popular mainstream filmmaker in his home country of the Philippines. The man has worked in the movie industry since the mid-1990s as a writer, director, actor, and even producer. He has embraced the tenets of commercial filmmaking and though his belief that craftsmanship and storytelling trump highfalutin ideas and delivering well-worn humanist messages these beliefs have divided the director with many Filipino cinephiles and indie filmmakers who are struggling on a day-to-day basis to complete their own films. Whether or not one espouses Matti’s viewpoint about cinema and art it’s hard to ignore the man or his work. He has slowly gained quite a lot of attention these last few years and many people, foreign and domestic, have shown support for the man’s work.

Although I have not seen a majority of Matti’s oeuvre, I must say that the attention that his films have garnered is a positive move forward for the national cinema of the Philippines. The country’s film industry has had to endure a lot of over the decades and the shadow of Hollywood has always loomed large over the entire country. What few films that emerged for viewing to foreign audiences were often noirish melodramas usually directed by men like Lino Brocka or Brillante Mendoza that showcased the squalor and moral corruption prevalent in the Philippines. Now even though a majority of the population does live well below what many in the First World would consider the poverty line a cinema that only shows the bleak and dire is a dishonest cinema. The country, its people, and its art scene are multifaceted and sometimes splintered into various sub-groups due to the various dialects spoken in the country. In fact, due to its long history as a colony, be it Spain, Japan, the US, the Philippines is an amalgam of Old World and New World influences.

As for its cinema, with the invention of DV cameras there has been a renaissance within the indie film scene there. Fueled by pioneer masters like Kidlat Tahimik, Raymond Red, and Lav Diaz young filmmakers in the Philippines are going out onto the streets, imbued with a DIY aesthetic, and starting to craft their own personal films. Sadly though, for every art-house success like Six Degrees of Separation from Lilia Cuntapay (2011) there are mountains upon mountains of high concept but low budget arthouse pictures, poorly scripted but interesting genre fare, and head scratching contemplative films. And as highly lauded as these films are they do not make a dent in the local box office. Now of course, you’ll be hard-pressed to find a Filipino that would label Erik Matti as an arthouse director but whether you love or hate him he makes profitable well-made pictures. And as South Korea has proved a solid commercial industry is the bedrock of a strong national cinema.

Rigodon is an erotic melodrama that tells the story of three flawed and emotionally damaged characters. There is Riki (John James Uy) a manipulative narcissist whose sense of self-entitlement is rivaled only by his insatiable sexual appetite. Established at the start as a Z-grade celebrity, Riki though is not a one-dimensional despicable character, he may lie and cheat but he is not driven to be bad because he is a bad character. Instead as the film unfolds we see the desperation and hunger, akin to Tony Curtis’s Sydney Falco character in Sweet Smell of Success (1957). Playing Riki’s put upon wife is Regine (Max Eigenmann), a housewife who must have had dreams of her own before meeting Riki but now is relegated to baking cupcakes for Riki’s mistresses. And finally there is Sarah (Yam Concepcion), the mistress figure in the movie and honestly the most sympathy of the three. She is young, beautiful, and worst of all desperate to give her love to whatever man is willing to take it.

A lot of what raises the film above the level of titillation is the amount of screen time that Matti devotes to showing the inner lives of these characters, not just through expository dialogue but through quiet moments when they are just going about their day-to-day business. Though we only see one of Riki’s affairs the movie has scenes that give us clues that this man is a habitual adulterer and has plenty of secrets he’s been keeping. One of which involves a debt to a creepy spinster who commands a gang of muscle that do her bidding while she grooms her paraplegic father. As for Regine, her isolation and dependency on Riki’s erratic paychecks has forced her to consciously ignore all the signs that Riki is a total scumbag. Their marriage is broken but the thought of leaving him has never crossed her mind. In a telling scene where Regine attempts to talk to her family in Cebu, the strained expression on her face while attempting to make small talk says it all, there is no place for her other than the home she has built with Riki. She is shackled to him, emotionally and financially.

Similarly, Sarah also suffers from an overbearing male figure, but instead of it being a husband or lover it is her father, a man who cares for her but shows it by constantly questioning her judgment. Going from boyfriend to boyfriend she attempts to build something of a relationship with men but in the eyes of Sarah’s father no one is good enough for her. When she finally does break free from him she runs into the arms of Riki, hoping that this man is a far better protector and lover, but her emotional dependence on Riki eventually makes her unattractive to the man.

Aside form the love triangle Rigodon can be seen as a statement about the noive riche in the Philippines. Riki may not be a big star but he lives an upper class lifestyle. His clothes, his car, the food his family eats, and even the way he speaks is completely foreign to most Filipinos. In the Philippine language he would be described as a mestizo, a term used to describe a person who has White European ancestry. Trying to keep up with the Joneses Riki’s home life resembles an American middle class existence. He is a native foreigner, too white for Filipinos, and he is even made fun of due to the way he speaks Tagalog in an “American” accent. Regine, on the other hand, is the typical Filipina wife and mother. She keeps the house in order, takes care of her child and husband, and pretty much has no life outside of her home. She lives in a golden cage unlike Sarah whose innocence damns her at the end.

Whereas in previous years Filipinos had to leave the country to earn a decent wage and feed their family Matti’s film shows us that globalization has made the “American Dream” possible no matter what shore you land on. Rigodon is an erotic film that doesn’t just sexualize bodies writhing in ecstasy, but salaciously shows us the power that money has in masking lies as truth and sex as love.

(Originally published on January 20, 2014 at VCinema Show Podcast and Blog.)

The Animals (2012) [NYAFF 2013]

The teenagers in Gino M. Santos’ The Animals belong to the 1% of the Philippine social stratosphere, living an American dream that most Americans would envy. They drink, smoke, pop pills, erupt into violent rages, and like all teenagers are driven by their raging hormones. Chauffeured from place to place and coddled by their rich parents, these kids embody the very definition of “spoiled brat”.  However, nothing about their behavior would startle a normal First World audience. The cinema is filled to capacity with rich jerks and stuck-up snobs, but Santos’s film takes place in the Philippines, a third world country where government corruption is public knowledge and free speech is oftentimes curbed.

With a national cinema that has often been labeled and accused of perpetuating poverty porn to film festivalgoers it’s rare that those living outside the Philippines get to see another reality. Luckily, as far more adventurous cinephiles dive into the country’s film scene, both past and present, we get a chance to see how "the other half" live.  Instead of a cliché focus on slackers, geeky nerds that are beautiful on the inside, or hipsters with an encyclopedic knowledge of every obscure band that ever existed, Santos depicts teenagers who are just dead to anything that is outside their own purview. Whereas many teenage dramas and comedies spend a great deal of energy charting their pubescent characters loss of innocence, The Animals shows kids corrupted long before we ever met them. Instead, what Santos does is have us, the audience, witness one day in their lives. Of course, as the rules of drama dictate, this is no ordinary day for any of the characters involved.

Jake (Albie Casino) is the epitome of the upper class male. His parents cater to his whims, doling out cash even before he gets a chance to ask, and supporting his extracurricular activities that include drinking, smoking, and popping pills. When we first meet Jake, he seems to embody everything middle class audiences hate about the rich, though Casino does allow for Jake to have some sympathetic qualities. He seems to love his girlfriend, has a very amiable personality, and one can’t help but notice that, aside from a breakfast scene at the start of the film, Jake is devoid of any sort of parental figure in his life. In fact, when Jake’s father brings up the party that his son is putting together, he thinks it’s a school event and even jokes about the entrance fee Jake is charging to his guests. You feel sympathetic for this young man who may just be bored and in need of a little parental guidance.

Of course, Jake’s issues pale in comparison to those of Alex (Patrick Sugui), who’s a sheep lost in the woods. Toking up before school and having hooked up with a gang of older high school kids who dangle membership to their fraternity in front of wayward teens, Alex is painful to watch as a scared boy who struggles to fit in as he is viciously hazed by his upper classmen. In Santos’ film friendships are, at best, superficial connections that are based on supply and demand; meaning loyalties shift when one can’t get what they want.

The third character we follow, Trina (Dawn Balagot), is not only Alex’s older sister, but also Jake’s girlfriend. Of these three, her fate is the most tragic. Though she suffers from kleptomania, a character trait introduced in the beginning and left to wither on the dramatic vine, she is the most levelheaded character out of the three.

When the action moves to Jake’s party the strobe lights, loud music, and jump cut action can get very tiring. It’s all very rote. These kids may talk the talk, but they are still kids and Santos makes sure to linger on shots of puke, be it staining bathroom floors, dribbling onto chic dresses, or erupting from pubescent mouths. It’s also interesting to note that it’s mainly women who were blowing chunks while the men are silent observers laughing or enjoying the feeling of female flesh rubbing up against them.

Although The Animals has gotten a lot of attention as being critical and damning of the rich, the film is actually far from that. Yes, the film does portray these privileged teenagers in a very negative light, but in the end Jake and Alex aren’t really admonished for their “bad behavior”. In fact, both characters in the end are allowed to return to the comforts of their warm beds, a far cry to the fates of the film's female characters. The Animals in the film's title are not the idle rich but men, young and old who rule through aggression.

(Originally published on July 1, 2013 at VCinema Show Podcast and Blog.)

Rurouni Kenshin (2012)

Keishi Ohtomo’s Rurouni Kenshin opens like many historical pictures, in pitch darkness with the year and conflict telegraphed to us through white on black intertitles. It is 1868, the closing moments of the Boshin War, a turning point in Japan’s history as the country took its first steps to Empiredom. Our hero, Battosai the Manslayer (Takeru Satoh), is an assassin for the Imperialists but he doesn’t share in their happiness as his side defeats the remnants of the Tokugawa Shogunate. Instead, with the war won, he abandons his sword on the battlefield and seemingly relinquishes his license to kill.

Ten years quickly pass in the blink of a well placed dissolve and Battosai the Manslayer has changed his name to Himura Kenshin, the sword with a heart. Japan is in the throes of the Meiji period, earth-tone kimonos being replaced with powder white naval uniforms, and our reluctant hero has joined the ever-growing mass of wandering directionless samurai. Though having vowed 10 years ago to never take another life a series of murders that were done under his old name push the former manslayer to uncover the culprits. Along the way he befriends a series of quirky allies and fights an army of theatrically dressed villains.

If this plot sounds rote and almost cartoonish then it most likely will not surprise you to learn that Rurouni Kenshin began it’s life as a popular manga, written by Nobuhiro Watsuki, then translated onto television as a 95-episode anime before finally transplanted onto the big screen. Straddling the tropes of the jidai-geki/chambara and the superhero genre, sadly Ohtomo’s picture leans far more heavily towards the strained seriousness of commercial blockbuster cinema.

Lacking the bleak atmosphere and complicated anti-heroes that were synonymous with chambara auteurs like Kenji Misumi or Hideo Gosha, Rurouni Kenshin only reminds fans just how far the genre has fallen. Whereas previous films of the sort never shied away from exposing the violence and brutality possible in all men, be they samurai or otherwise, what we get in Rurouni Kenshin are bloodless and antiseptic duels. Blood may stain the carefully art directed sets and scenery but we never completely believe that the actors katanas make contact with one another. No longer is there the excitement that comes from watching two morally compromised characters dueling to the death. Instead, sound effects of clashing swords and carefully edited cuts are what we are left with for excitement. And replacing moral ambiguity, there is a comic book simplicity to the plot. The bad guys, for the most part, all wear black and on the side of good are the good-looking ones who have only the best intentions at heart.

Takeru Sato, famous for his recurring role as the superhero Kamen Rider, does a decent enough job playing the reformed manslayer Kenshin. His soft somewhat androgynous features make it easy for the viewer and the cast of characters in the film to let down their guard when he appears. When blades are crossed though, it is quite a chore to believe that Sato is a menacing threat for anyone who dares cross his path.  Sato plays Kenshin as too much of a blank slate. His dreamy-eyed stare may make a few girls swoon, but he’s no match for a Tatsuya Nakadai, Tomisaburo Wakayama, or Raizo Ichikawa, all of whom made their mark in chambara cinema playing wounded masculine characters.

The only actor that stood out from the relatively humdrum cast is Teruyuki Kagawa, an actor that ironically made his bones in the Japanese film industry playing subtle oftentimes repressed characters. In Rurouni Kenshin though he hams it up as Kanryu Takeda, a Snidely Whiplash-esque archenemy that has far more in common with mid-Twentieth century Bond villains than he does Meiji era business tycoons. And, taking a cue from Tony Montana, Takeda makes basking in his own self-important glory a true art.

As underlings, Takeda has a posse of pseudo-supernatural thugs dressed in middle-eastern garb. However, their role as henchmen is relegated to being punching bags for the good guys. The only character under Takeda’s employ that had a shade of depth was Megumi (Yu Aoi), who vacillates between femme fatale, tragic heroine, and girl-next-door. The entire story pivots around the relationship between Megumi and Takeda, making their love-hate co-dependent relationship far more interesting than the white bread prim and proper romance between Kenshin and Kaoru (Emi Takei) that the film trots out as its sorry excuse for a subplot.

Those with a deep love and affection for exciting chambara pictures or introspective and artistically minded jidai-geki films will find a lot wanting with Rurouni Kenshin. Ohtomo’s movie caters more to the J-Pop/animation crowd, and though I find nothing wrong with either art forms after seeing Rurouni Kenshin you might want to cleanse your cinematic palette with something far more “substantial”.

(Originally published on April 9, 2013 at VCinema Show Podcast and Blog.)