moebius

PREDICTIONS: OSCAR 2004

BEST PICTURE
LOTR: Return of the King
(Should've been a Contender: Elephant)

BEST DIRECTOR
Peter Jackson - ROTK
(Should've been a Contender: Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu - 21 Grams)

BEST ACTOR
Will Win: Sean Penn - Mystic River
Should Win: Bill Murray - Lost in Translation
(Should've been a Contender: Remy Girard - The Barbarian Invasions)

BEST ACTRESS
Charlize Theron - Monster
(Should've been a Contender: Hope Davis - American Splendor)

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR
Tim Robbins - Mystic River
(Should've been a Contender: Paul Bettany - Master and Commander)

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS
Will Win: Renee Zellweger - Cold Mountain
Should Win: Shohreh Aghdashloo - House of Sand and Fog
(Should've been a Contender: Melissa Leo - 21 Grams)

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY
Sofia Coppola - Lost in Translation

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY
LOTR:ROTK

BEST ANIMATED FILM
Will Win: Finding Nemo
Should Win: Triplets of Belleville
(Should've been a Contender: Millennium Actress)

ART DIRECTION
Girl with a Pearl Earring

CINEMATOGRAPHY
Cold Mountain

FILM EDITING
Seabiscuit

SOUND
Pirates of the Caribbean

SOUND EFFECTS EDITING
Master and Commander

COSTUME DESIGN
Master and Commander

MAKE-UP
LOTR:ROTK

VISUAL EFFECTS
LOTR:ROTK

ORIGINAL SCORE
Will Win: Howard Shore - LOTR:ROTK
Should Win: Danny Elfman - Big Fish

ORIGINAL SONG
Will Win: "You Will Be My Ain True Love" - Cold Mountain, Music and Lyric by Sting
Should Win: "Scarlet Tide" - Cold Mountain, Music and Lyric by T Bone Burnett and Elvis Costello

DOCUMENTARY FEATURE
The Fog of War

FOREIGN LANGUAGE FILM
The Barbarian Invasions
(Should've been a Contender: The Man on a Train - France)

FAVORITE FILMS OF 2003

HOUSE OF SAND AND FOG
Of the recent wave of American films that try to deal with tragedy close to home, none of them are as apt or metaphorical as this film. In the catastrophic unraveling of the domestic realm and its decline into chaos, director Perelman creates a world within a world. Larger issues afflicting the country becomes translated into an intimate and enclosed setting. In so doing, the film successfully makes one aware and deeply concerned about the issues of immigration and crime, of poverty and family. It is as if an unwelcome visitor has come into the home.

The characters, each fighting for their own survival and existence in their homeland, struggle valiantly to rest their feet. Each has his or her own causes, each with their own agenda psychologized into dramatic cinematic moments. For Massoud Behrani (Ben Kingsley) the home he is fighting for is his own interpretation of the American Dream. He tries so hard to fit in to the new country, but can never let go of his previous life. The tyranny of his old ways linger. For Cathy Nicolo (Jennifer Connelly), it is not just an American Dream, but a practical wish for a roof over her head, and a sense of control over her own life.

The house easily becomes a metaphor for America, and its promises. In addressing the poignant dilemma immigrants face in this new country, the film strikes a chord with the audience on the grounds of an intrinsic humanity. On the other hand, the American family is breaking up, as evident in Nicolo and her boyfriend’s families. They are single souls, in search of a place to call home. With a simple twist of fate, their homeland becomes hostile and unfamiliar. Are they being invaded by a new societal family structure, or it the fragmentation of the American family marking its own demise?

The film asks more question than it does answer. What is most deeply felt however, is the merciless nature that creeps into the land, and taking everything away from it. The fog comes and goes in this San Francisco suburb, clouding the skies and obscuring the vision. Like a plague, it hangs lethargically over the county and its people. As if reclaiming what is lost, it is the power of nature that wields the most control.

FAVORITE FILMS OF 2003

THE BARBARIAN INVASIONS
The film details the unusual relationship between the balding intellectual, his friends and his family.

In waxing politically and subversively about the history of mankind, Remy, puts on a intellectual lens that is suggestive of his younger, more idealistic and rebellious days. Interestingly, he now has to ponder his own ultimate demise, as his individual life is contrasted with the bigger sweep of global history. Brought together by his son, Remy's friends become attendees to his swansong of political history lecture. Skimming through Sep 11, the invasions of Rome and the collapse of numerous other civilizations, this film also becomes a analogy of the death of our own civilization. Is it like a brain tumour that has no antidote, but only heroin to numb the pain?

Remy’s son, Sebastien, the suave, debonair executive, with his power drawn from material wealth provides an interesting counterpoint to Remy. In the clash of the modernist Gen-Xer with post-modern commercial corporatism, it is ironic that the only living legacy Remy will leave behind is his capitalistic son. (His more wholesome daughter is away, across oceans and communicable only through high-tech gadgetry.) Perhaps capitalism is the way to go. Afterall, it is Sebastian who took care of the hospital services, and even providing heroin as sustenance to his father.

While transversing this wide political and philosophical spectrum, The Barbarian Invasions nevertheless hone in on the family and the conceits of love, filial piety, marriage and extra-marital affairs. Without directly critiquing the state of our culture, the film pointedly showcases the failing of modern life, the corrupted and appalling socialist healthcare of Canada, the emptiness of success and wealth, the unrewarding idolatory of religion and the ultimate embrace of nature as seen in the final setting of the film. As Sebastien shows, one needs to be resourceful, financially and philosphically to deal with the unceasing cruelty of contemporary life.

Sweet, frank and amazingly intelligent, The Barbarian Invasions is a modest movie that deals with modern living and the human life, with its grand scope and vitality.

FAVORITE FILMS OF 2003

ELEPHANT
Gus Van Sant's elegiac film retells the faithful day that occurs at Columbine High School, where two boys went on a rampage, killing and wounding students and teachers, before turning on themselves.

But the film starts of unpretentiously, so banal that it borders on the abstract, with no hint of what is to come. Perhaps it is this chilling nonchalance, and undisturbed tranquility of the everyday that makes the film even more powerful and difficult to watch.

Characters are paid lovely attention through mundane actions, but their verisimilitude overwhelms the static nature of the directing and amateur acting. They are real people, with an unhindered rough-hewn quality and uncensored vulnerability. People file past the hallway, unnoticed and unobserved. It is only when one takes a closer look, a second glance, does one realize who has just been running down the hallway or into the bathroom.

It is this miraculous power of the everyday that so often goes unquestioned and ignored. It is a world of anomie, like the anonymity of the high school, which hits you right in the gut. It is so brutal and unadorned that it becomes achingly sad. That is probably how the ostracized individuals felt during their high school days. Just as how events are repeated on the screen through different perspectives, the survivors (and that includes us) are made to rethink the high school killing over and over again. Their grief manifest evocatively in this film, making this a tense and unnerving journey into the dark corridors of the high school, a journey into the unchecked quarters of middle America.

And the cinematography is absolutely astonishing. The camera floats like an apparition, down hallways and into classrooms. It is the ghost of the past, of those that went before, and of the despairing futility of existence. Spatial relationships in the sanctuary of the school become void and meaningless. It purports to go places like God, but without any mercy or tenderness. As if it is a world without a God, an omniscience that yields no response or feeling.

Van Sant has used the cinematic apparatus skillfully to his advantage, creating a poignant and chiling film. Its message is so powerful, it needs no narrative.

(The title draws inspiration from a 1989 Alan Clarke film that addresses the violence in Northern Ireland. It also alludes to the saying that “there is an elephant in the living room”, that aproblem is so big but it has been so avoided that people simply do not see it anymore. It perhaps also becomes a critic of domestic ineptitude, of the violence within the home.)

FAVORITE FILMS OF 2003

MASTER AND COMMANDER: THE FAR SIDE OF THE WORLD
The only drawback of the film is its lengthy and unrefined title.

Otherwise, Weir has crafted another intensely enjoyable and riveting movie. With astute attention to period and maritime details, life onboard the H.M.S. Surprise is vividly brought to life. Class and rank differences abound through design as well as an abridged script. By narrowing its focus on male bonding, masculinity and its insecurities, this film brings out the notion of honor, authority, bravery and all that machismo in balanced proportions. Women do not exist in this world, whereby days pass on unnoticed and meals unchanged. Neither does the film idolize the administrative expertise of Captain Aubrey, nor does it eulogize the passing of a great cultural tradition. What it brings forth is a smart and layered story, and a truly entertaining gem that is as fun as it looks.

Crowe does a credible role as ship captain, while Paul Bettany shines with his tenuous sidekick characterization that challenges Crowe for onscreen time. And what supreme confidence the director has to insert an ecological jaunt to the Galapagos, a study of evolution and ultimately a study of man. He is a great director, with a clear-eyed clarity and control of this chaotic mise-en-scene spectacle.

The battle sequences are imbued with a loud tenacity, rigorously filmed and maneuvered. The enemy remains a foggy figure in the distance, and what the crew is fighting for remains vague and obscure. Thus what keeps them going is a dogged professionalism and unwavering loyalty that is seldom questioned.

Beautifully realized and with a rich sound design, Master and Commander is a technical and psychological masterpiece par excellence. It is truly one of the best high sea adventure films ever made.

FAVORITE FILMS OF 2003

MYSTIC RIVER
Murder, rape, homocide. These are the things that rock the lives of families. And in Mystic River, the proportions of emotions and psychological rendering become even more acute and precipitated. It is a modern-day Greek tragedy, set in a non-descript, but stuffy working class neighborhood.

Clint Eastwood is a master at controlling the complexity of emotions and the pent-up frustration of the repressed community. As he cast a pallid demeanor over the entire film, the direction becomes detached and clinical, almost perfunctory. Like the slow moving Mystic River, we simply flow with the tides, watching tragedies after tragedies unfold.

The superlative cast gives scintillating performances that are so rarely seen in movies nowadays. Poignant and moving, they add so much power and tenderness to their characters. Their bonds of fraternity and weathered mentalities are so banal but real. Husband and wife relationships are scrutinized and neatly dissected. And the violence is unflinchingly intimate.

In the last 15 minutes of the film, the incredible unfolding of the story reaches an insurmountable climax. Again, we are helpless watching the demonic killing occur. Indirectly, the film becomes a reflection of the grief that the country is facing. Indeed what does one do, with such immense tragedy that hits so close to home? Histories come back to haunt our present existence, as one is resorted to take matters into his own hands. However, tragedies of such intensity cannot be equated. In the end, someone is going to try to pretend that it never happened. For others, it will forever be a scar, indelible and painful.

Despite some plot inadequacies and dispensable subplots, this is a film that is willing to do where no American has gone before. Like 21 Grams, it deals with the tragedy on the human scale. The long drawn out ending perhaps needs a little tweaking. Then again, under such circumstances, there can never be a perfect ending.

Just as Eastwood repeatedly pans the camera towards the sky, searching forlornly for an answer from above, we also realized that we are not equipped to answer questions of such gravity and enormity.

FAVORITE FILMS OF 2003

21 GRAMS
Set into motion by a terrible car accident, this film is about the intertwined lives of three individuals, caught in the incessant cycle of life and death. Painfully wrenching and intense, the film unfolds little by little, revealing episodically the crucial moments in the lives of the three characters.

Temporality is corrupted in the film. We do not know the entire time frame of the events, neither do we even dare to approximate how the characters feel outside those onscreen minutes. Although distancing, the inconsistent sequencing of the film clearly eludes to the fragmented existence as felt by the characters. Just as it is impossible to comprehend the emotional burden felt by the characters, we never fully see the entire picture.

Benecio Del Toro has the ability to bring death arbitrarily to people. His religiosity becomes part of this uncanny and mysterious power that is transformative and almost sacred. Naomi Watts is burdened with the need to deal with death. Her simmering performance is reminiscent of a brilliant Sissy Spacek in In The Bedroom, tender and apathetic in the beginning, but boils and explodes into a massive outpouring of grief and despair, coupled with an almost sluggish antagonism as she plots the murder of her family's killer. (She will win an Oscar someday). And Sean Penn is the personification of fear itself. It is the fear of facing eminent death, of having to deal with a new life and the discarding of an old one.

Tough, raw and extremely haunting, this film clings onto you, not for being depressing, but by its intelligence. Alejandro Gonzalez Innaritú is a major talent to watch. His courageous confrontation of death and its implications is rarely ever seen in American films. Through 21 Grams, he shows up the inadequacies of the American culture, coming full frontal with themes of guilt in the family, and of pain. Death is not idealized, trivialized or hedonized. His incredible approach is a brilliant counterpoint to American films and their insipid handling of life in its full dimension.

FAVORITE FILMS OF 2003

LOST IN TRANSLATION
Neon-lit Roppongi, the hermetic white elitism of the hotel, the contrasted lighting of the advertising studio, the psychedelic colors of the TV studio, the uber-chic of the sleazy adult bars. Each is innocuous to the everyday existence, yet each is filled with signs blaring at our visual senses, waiting to be read and consumed.

Lost in Translation is about languages: the language of love, of cultural disparities, of miscommunications, of body language, of songs (Jazz and Japanese KTV), and of the noises of the metropolis. The complexity of human relationships is captured through the reactions between the characters, their actions and behaviors and their reading of the visual and aural languages.

Slow but engrossing, the film simmers like a crockpot, evoking the joys and pains of two characters stuck in a jetlag limbo, struggling over the period of a few days to find themselves. It becomes a comedic melodrama, funny not for its jokes, but for its highly intelligent sense for the simple things in life. It is a movie about people in transition, and captures the feeling of going nowhere and being nowhere delightfully.

Filmed with such dexterity, Coppola’s insight into the two characters appears like incoherent ramblings, much with a verisimilitude to real life. Bill Murray plays on his own persona, behaving like a bemused celebrity that is getting tired of his own existence. His laconic slurs and wry expressions become statements of his own incongruity with the loud surroundings. He is as if trapped in a time-space dis-continuum, where no one notices him and being himself becomes a daily chore.

By setting the film in Tokyo, Coppola amplifies the sense of alienation of the characters. Still, It is a place in transition, torn between the ultra-sleek modern architecture of the skyscrapers with the meticulously manicured stone gardens of the Shinto temples. It is an urban paradigm, and the characters are similarly coming to terms with their own confusions. And with the near ending of their final embrace, in the crowded street, their last exchange a highly private and inconspicuous one, the film makes the audience leave with a sense of regret and anomie. Like the question posed about what is in the briefcase in Pulp Fiction, the muted conversation is at once frustrating for the audience as it is endearing for the couple and their private and intimate encounter.

The style of "feminist" filmmaking used here, with its slow plot progression, the lack of pent-up drama works wondrously like someone coming off jetlag or someone on drugs to treat the latter. Unlike the boisterous Hollywood patriarchal films today, where cause-and-effect takes precedence, goal-oriented protagonists drive through the show in a blaze of lights and explosion, Coppola emits a breath of fresh air to the homogenous offerings of American cinema today. This is a film that oozes intelligence. It has to be savored slowly and not hastened.

FAVORITE FILMS OF 2003

THE LORD OF THE RINGS: THE RETURN OF THE KING
The power of this film is its ability to transport you into a fantasy world, and into another dimension that is deeply psychological and emotionally laden.

It has been a long journey, not just for the audience but also for the characters. Their weariness is clearly visible. They looked sullen and dull, their bright-eyed tenacity for fighting, as shown in the beginning of the series, has subsumed into a mellow red-eyed despondency.

In this final episode of the LOTR trilogy, director Peter Jackson maintains the balanced portions of majesty, action and drama evident in the first two installments, but with a fiercer and darker intensity. Through his sheer control of the entire production, he has not succumbed to an imagination lapse that is common with concluding trilogies. He wields his camera like a warrior, burrowing deep into the action of the fighting sequences, as well as measuring the psychological battles each and every character faces.

Here, Pippin and Merry finally mature into enduring characters with hearts as strong as their wills. Eowyn (Miranda Otto) steals every scene she is in with her ennobling portrayal, and Aragorn’s gracefulness culminates in his coronation, with a modesty that allows for his fellow cast members to shine. The incredible Gandalf cannot grow any wiser but only overcast by a palpable sadness. Gollum graduates from a sniveling and fantastical creature into a fully-shaded and integral member of the ring-bearing trio. And with the shift away from Frodo and onto Sam, the heart of the film shifts from a naïve and romantic idealism towards a steadfast and poignant disenchantment that ends the film brilliantly.

“You can't go back. Some wounds don't heal."

In his protracted ending, Jackson creates one of the more remarkable Hollywood films of the era, with its stinging epilogue and melancholic sentiments. It is a solid conclusion, detailed with the lives of the Hobbits back in their “never-never land”. But there is also a creeping discomfort about the future, of a bleakness that cannot be erased due to the horrors of their experiences.

While Fellowship of the Ring efficiently deals with the exposition of the storyline, it is imbued with a simplicity of characters, a single-goal oriented trajectory of the characters’ motivations and a well-defined logic of heroism and of the definition of the enemy. The Two Towers matches the onslaught of physical exhaustion on the characters with the majestic sweep of epic battles and familial woes. When the entire landscape - man, hobbits, elves and trees - comes alive to battle evil, the sanctity of home and the refuge it provides become worthwhile and magnetic causes for fighting.

What The Return of the King accomplishes is to rid the sentimentality of homesickness and elevates the drame into a fervent battle for pure existence. The tension comes from the pessimism of the situation, and the outpouring of every last ounce of energy to fight the final battle to their deaths. It becomes a deeply moving anecdote of the enduring spirit of mankind despite the frailty of the body. And yet when the battle is won, the battle fatigue and emotional trauma linger to plague their existence.

In this post-9/11 climate, with the rise in nationalism amidst a post-modern disregard for the spiritual, The Return of the King is a reflection of a historical moment in our time, and of the uncertainty that lies ahead of us. It is a sweeping epic that measures in equal proportion the audacity of warfare and the resilience of civilizations. A resounding cinematic marvel, ROTK redefines what a true Hollywood epic should be.

I am NOT superficial.
I am NOT superficial.
I am NOT superficial.
I am NOT superficial.
I am NOT superficial.

KOREATOWN'S TOP 40
by Jonathan Gold

"...home to a reputed 850 places to eat and drink, as well as scores of nightclubs, coffeehouses, billiard parlors, supermarkets and bookstores, Koreatown has matured into one of the great nightlife districts in the world, a veritable restaurant paradise shoehorned right into Los Angeles’ urban core.

When I began my most recent forays into Koreatown, which entailed about 120 restaurant meals over the course of a couple of months, I barely recognized the neighborhood, which has been transformed into a nightlife zone almost as dense as Tokyo’s Roppongi District, a 24-hour neighborhood of neon and giant video screens, alive with the squeals of tweaked-out Honda tuners and bone-stock AMG sedans, the smell of grilling meat, and the bleary eyes of party people who have stayed up till dawn.

High-rise office buildings are being converted into flashy lofts, left and right: My old floor-through apartment now seems impossibly quaint. The area has what may be the most visible contingent of security guards in the Los Angeles area, and practically every restaurant with more than a couple of tables has a secured parking lot, a bouncer and a valet...."

LA Weekly: Dining: Koreatown's Top 40

Unlike most guys, I do not have a great penchant for cars. I am rather clueless about car performances, their makers or what the cylinder numbers really do.

But in retrospect, I think I have driven a wider range of cars than many people.

The first car I have driven is actually a Landrover. During my army days, I was put through driving school, and the Landrover was deemed the easiest to manuevre. Yes, that is true, but also incredibly jaunty. I love its compactness (i was a beginner than), and the open-top, convertible concept is something that I still adore. But it also made me feel terribly vulnerable with its thin steel cage, and crummy metal work. The landrover I drove was probably as old as me.

Believe it or not, I have also driven a 3-tonne truck in the army. It was great riding in that elephant. One gets an elevated vantagepoint of the roads, and even ocassionally air-conditioing. And when you are pummelling down the street in the vehicle, all other private automobiles will automatically give way to you. Of course, they are worried about being smashed into a prata by this truck, but I would like to think of it as the other drivers being overawed by the sheer size of the truck, and its unyielding power in the engine compartment.

I also drove a smaller truck, called a unimog, manufactured by Mercedes-Benz. I spent a lot of time with this truck, practically living many nights in its back. Incredibly uncomfortable, but when you are out in the forests, and there's nothing else to shield you from the rain and the insects, you make do with it. This is a workhorse, doubly up as sleeping quarters, kitchenette, meeting room and of course military intelligence outpost. And I probably spent more time polishing it than I am paid to do.

My dad drives a BMW, and I had the opportunity to drive it a few times. It is amazingly smooth (compared to everything else I have driven), and fully-automated (which is cool, but unnecessary). But it is helluva big, and parking in Singapore can be a real tight situation.

My current pickled olive is like a good old friend to me. Good and very old. I would like to think of it as being reliable, and considering its age, I think it stands up pretty well to that. And with all my travels and road trips, I can't help but feel a close bond to it.

And in spite of all the other Toyotas, MPVs and Fords I have driven during driving school days and car rentals, my current dream car is actually a Jeep Wrangler. Cars to me are not about performance, or speed. It is not about turning heads, though aesthetic concerns are a priority in my books. In my personal, humble and limited experience, a car is about a lifestyle. Not in the marketing sense, but in its utilitarian capabilities, and the way it works with the environment. Hopefully, it will also develop a close bond to the owner, one that make us trust our lives to.