Pacific Rim (2013)

Here, the Jaegers glow almost... angelically.
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Pacific Rim is a big-budget, high-voltage action blockbuster done so damn right,
and it is, most undeniably, a lot of fun! This is a genre film masterfully crafted with earnest love and enjoyment, and Del Toro's appreciation of the genre is wonderfully infectious. 

Del Toro meshes fantasy, sci-fi, monsters and robots seemlessly into an endearing and entirely entertaining work of art. If one has seen the Oscar-winning Pan's Labyrinth, one would already be too familiar with Del Toro's boldly nuanced palette and his uncanny knack for visual spectacles.

In contrast, the Kaijus look entirely demonic. Some people may see profound poetic imagery, I see darn good CGI.
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 From the cuts of the sleek body suits to the mechanical designs of the robots, every detail is tendered with meticulous attention and artistry. Although the substance here is perhaps not deeply profound, I don't see a pointless Summer-flick.

I see a labour of love and refreshing creativity.
I see imagination of a whole other dimension and of a scale never before seen, and I am not referring to the distortions of 3D. *Sigh* We're not having this conversation again.

My point is, all that a story-teller truly needs is a passionately realised vision. A film that is self-convicted, and yet spirited and not self-important is a fine example of such magnificence.  

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Action. Reaction. Bigger Action. More Reaction. That is precisely how Del Toro paints his epic fight scenes.

 There's a particularly effective low-angle shot where the audience hides in a corner and observes a giant humanoid robot lift its feet almost rhythmically to avoid crushing  parallel highways, flashing neon lights, and seemingly miniscule palm trees. It is this same rich imagery and visual clarity that makes the battles so engrossing, so enticing and so very involving. With such resolute coherence, you know exactly who pulled what punch and whose limb was severed as a result.

 Most importantly, the grandness, audacity and excitement heighten with each successive frame, and whilst  we are only too sure of a typically sappy denouement, the stakes escalate to a feverish pitch as the bashing gets gritty, and the robots get down and dirty.

I live in Sydney, I could be deported for not including this shot. Then again, that would imply that this blog actually has significant influence, which... *Sigh*.

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Rinko Kikuchi gives the film a nice dropkick of gumption and human interest; her ass-kicking dominance in the sticks combat scene is particularly impressive. Idris Elba has that indescribably strong presence, and his imperative "TODAY WE ARE CANCELLING THE APOCALYPSE" is as bad-ass and memorable as it is unimaginative.

Charlie Hermann is, well,  the muscular white lead that every mainstream American action film needs. That sounds rather spiteful, what I really mean is that he is perfectly adequate. Plus, he and Kikuchi have great chemistry, and - to some extent - their relationship is admirably quirky.




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It has taken aeons to write this review because, as cliche as this may sound, Pacific Rim is grander than the sum of all its parts, including the epic and operatic score, and more than anything, it is infectiously fun!

Once and for all, Del Toro proves that fun is not synonymous with stupid by default.

Love y'all.

Psycho, Norman Bates and his beloved mother.

Foreword

Dear Readers, 

I earnestly hope that when this post is read, you shall perceive a character study constructed of empathy and insights, rather than bitter self-indulgence. 

Yours sincerely, 

Eric. Static. 

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Psycho is the greatest commercial success of Hitchcock's almost legendary career, and is also certainly his most iconic masterpiece. According to the recent biopic, it is also the famed director's greatest gamble. I suppose that is - coincidentally - very appropriate given that having a child is probably one's greatest gamble. Apparently, it is also most rewarding. Those who have read or seen We Need To Talk About Kevin may argue otherwise, but I digress. 

Now, where shall I start with Mr. Bates...

Norman Bates can be most succinctly described as a Mamma's Boy, however, this description is as overly simplified as it is apt.

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 The Norma-Norman relationship is complicated, to say the least, and I don't think I could adequately explore it without the help of beloved Freud. The Oedipal Complex sums that a boy's first spark of love or lust is inspired by his mother; the love suggestion is intuitive enough, as for the lust part, a boy's first recognition of a nude female is probably of his mother in the shower. 

Aside from its impeccable camera work, which suggests rather than imposes nudity and grotesque violence, the Janet Leigh shower scene - of less than three brief minutes - is universally and timelessly remembered for its insight into this complex. With each precise stab, accompanied by a score which rivals that of Jaws, the audience is horrified by the intense purge of prolonged sexual repression, and we are even more frightened when we realise that we, too, harbour recesses of such frustration. The only things missing are the situation and the urge. 

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Nothing leaves. Nothing is to change, really.

 From the shyness and social awkwardness of a boy trapped in his mother's shadow to the understated coldness that has manifested from her selfish selflessness; Anthony Perkins, in a spellbinding performance, has captured every aspect of Norman. 

Oh, just the way his tone shifts when Leigh's character suggests institutionalising his mother in 'some place' sends icy shivers down my spine. This sensation is, of course, ingrained by Herrmann's truly eerie score. Even writing about it makes me feel unsettled. 

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Talk about creatively misleading advertising. 

With every purposeful shot of the gothic establishment, Hitchcock draws the clear parameters of an almost two-dimensional, lonely world frozen in time. It should be fenced by bottomless swamps for anyone who dares to enter, well, refer to the photograph of the shower scene. Nothing leaves. Everything is to be as they are for little Norman cannot cope otherwise. He's living for two, you know. In a world built for two. Two and only two. 

Norman has not only preserved the physical remains of his mother, for how much impact could a skeleton make - I expect a resounding A LOT from those who have seen the film - she is, most figuratively, his other half. After all, how could you spell Norman without "Norma".

 This constant inner conflict, or persona dichotomy if you want to be fancy, is resolutely illustrated in the final scene where the camera zooms closer and closer upon Norman and the voice-over of his mother forever echos in the cold chambers of your mind. 

Conflicted people can come to do some very strange things... sometimes, unknowingly.

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World War Z (2013)

The perks of being a wall-zombie.
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Although World War Z is not as grand as what one may expect from such a title, this crime-thriller is one cleverly scripted and tightly packed Adrenaline PUNCH!

From the get-go, the film establishes itself with a resolute direction and a refreshingly swift pace. Gone are the days of unnecessarily dreary exposition, and rightfully so because - after all - it is an almost apocalyptic world. The film has some very imaginative and involving action sequences, among which is the terrifying self-perpetuating wall of zombie bodies.


 It is something that you should expect, yet do not, and that is why it is absolutely brilliant; as are the defining plot twist and  Brad Pitt's well-measured delivery and strong presence.


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Surprisingly, the linear narrative is most appropriate. It teases you with fragments of the puzzle whilst inducing you to become a part of this world - before you know it, emotions start clouding your rationale - and then, of course, you're out of time. The resolution is revealed, and you are - most simply - awestruck.

The thrills are entertaining and somewhat frightening, and criticise to your heart's content, but cliched pop-ups and well-followed chase scenes are quite effective. However, it is the crime elements that stimulate your higher senses and truly horrify. The infested world at war is undeniably realised and realistic, and you are, paradoxically, trapped in an open space. Ironically, this would be a nightmare for either claustrophobic or agoraphobic folks.

I don't think I would survive a zombie apocalypse. I make too much noise.
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My only criticism is that the undertone of possible conspiracy is fearfully underused; if you want to craft a smart zombie film, then craft it! It isn't that the conflict is unsatisfactorily resolved, but the film deserves an ending grander and bolder than an effective montage and an implied origin story. Ironically, the film is restricted by its over-sized budget.

This is World War Z, and whilst it is not fearless enough to be a 10, it is intelligent and gritty enough for an 8. 

Love y'all.