EVIL (2003), dir. Mikael Hafstrom

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What is “pure evil?” According to this searing Swedish drama, it’s causing pain to others simply because one is bigger, or has the protection of the authorities. It’s bullying, and it’s even worse when the bully is reasonably intelligent. Stand up to this kind and they may leave you alone temporarily, but all the while, they’ll be plotting any manner of alternative ways to get at you.

At the beginning of “Evil,” public school thug Erik Ponti (Andreas Wilson) is accused of being exactly this sort of psychopath. He scraps with his classmates, has been suspected of stealing, and despite what glimmer of academic ability he has shown, there is little chance he’ll be admitted to college. What Erik’s critics don’t know is the physical abuse he’s endured at the hands of his stepfather; only Erik’s mother knows, and in desperation, she sends him off to a private boarding school called Stjarnsberg, pleading with him to save what’s left of his future.

From the outside, Stjarnsberg looks like any other preparatory institution for sons of the rich and prominent. Despite being 17, Erik is roomed with younger, fresher-faced students, and his roommate is Pierre (Henrik Lundstrom), an affable dork who brings him up to speed on how things are run. Here the upperclassmen police the lowerclassmen, punishing infractions such as public cursing with some physical reprimand – for example, one student gets struck over the head with a spoon. But it goes further: basically, the lowerclassmen have to do the upperclassmen’s bidding, and when Erik balks, he finds himself at odds with Silverhielm (Gustaf Starsgard), who proves one heck of a sadistic senior.

Pretty much the entire Stjarnsberg upper class sets out to make Erik submit. When he won’t clean a pile of their mud-encrusted shoes, they make him dig ditches in the yard and other forms of hard labor. As for the headmaster, he generally turns a blind eye to whatever the older students do to the younger. Worse, there is a boxing square where lowerclassmen can be challenged to fight, but it’s always two-to-one in favor of upper-classmen, meaning it’s really a place for bigger students to beat smaller, weaker boys into pulp. Erik would be the exception; however, he refuses to engage in fisticuffs out of his promise to his mother to stay out of trouble.

Viewers will figure out early that Erik gets off the sidelines (note the scene where he and Pierre bond over their mutual love of “Rebel Without a Cause,” and the latter says his favorite scene is when James Dean is standing over his best friend’s dead body). To be fair, “Evil” doesn’t telegraph itself quite so cleanly, and it’s pretty good until about halfway through, when a plotline involving Erik’s swimming ability – which gives the underclassmen their first opportunity to steal some glory from the uppers – gets abandoned in favor of escalating antics (although nothing quite tops the use of a bucket containing human waste during the film’s middle).

What lesson are we supposed to take away from all this? Authority figures with absolute power can corrupt absolutely, be they favored students or step-parents? That’s all well and good, but as far as I can tell, the movie never presents or proposes any solution to this problem (and “Evil” does seem to think it’s that). If Erik is to be our example, the only real hope appears to be enduring indefinitely or getting oneself a good attorney. True, he does get a love interest for distraction, but their relationship is strangely underdeveloped, although one scene which amounts to, “You appear to have hypothermia. Let’s have sex,” is pretty funny.

The movie does try to say something about how abuse can shape us, either as individuals or as a mass: Erik was a thug because his stepfather would verbally and physically hurt him; meanwhile, Pierre points out that when Silverhielm was an underclassman himself, he probably had to endure atrocities similar to what he dishes out now. When the movie does allow Silverhielm an explanation, he says Erik’s defiance in and of itself caused him a “living Hell.” This implies the cyclical nature of bullying at Stjarnsberg breeds peer pressure; poor Silverhielm must make his charges fall in line, or else.

However, the most telling scene about the effects of abuse might be when Erik gets one of his tormentors alone, acts like he’s going to kill them, and starts explaining how he will commit the murder and get away with it. It all sounds half-baked, but the victim breaks down and starts begging for their life, at which point Erik looks at them, genuinely half-surprised. “You really thought I was going to do it, didn’t you?” he says, and the answer is: Of course they did. When a person has spent so much time around human beings at their absolute worst, what else would they expect of anyone but the same?

Overall rating: ** (out of ****)

INNER SENSES (2002), dir. Chi-Leung Law

Ever since “The Sixth Sense” came out almost a decade ago, various movies have tried following in the footsteps of M. Night Shymalan’s supernatural-themed drama, mostly by packaging boogedy-boogedy tales with twist endings. The made-in-Hong Kong “Inner Senses” starts off as such a retread, but doesn’t take very long before finding its own way. The path it takes may be more romantic and mainstream than “The Sixth Sense,” yet the film is entertaining nonetheless, even without the twist ending, which is actually more like a twisted middle.

As in Shymalan’s film, “Inner Senses’” main protagonists consist of a fragile soul who claims to see dead people, and a haunted-looking psychiatrist who tries to help. It should be noted that the predecessor starred Haley Joel Osment as a young boy whose “I… see… dead people” quickly became a popular catchphrase; “Inner Senses” star “Karena Lam,” on the other hand, is an extremely beautiful young woman. My point is we don’t expect the “The Sixth Sense’s” surrogate father-son relationship so much as a romantic one, especially given how good-looking a couple she and co-star Leslie Cheung make from the outset.

However, before these two can ride off into the sunset, they have to deal with the problems of Lam’s character Yan, who claims she isn’t sick but really does see ghosts. We first glimpse her ability shortly after she has moved into a spacious but creepily drab-looking apartment, and a man appears in a room one moment and is gone the next. Having already seen numerous doctors to no avail, Yan ends up with Cheung’s intelligent, rational-seeming, and thoroughly workaholic Dr. Jim, who gives university lectures on how ghosts are merely the result of years of cultural stimuli.

According to Jim, Chinese culture is especially steeped in the supernatural. “We use ghosts to teach things,” he says, giving an example of how parents often tell their children, “Do this or don’t do that, otherwise a ghost will get you.” It is interesting that, in a Hollywood ghost-related film, the supporting cast is typically composed of non-believers, but almost the opposite is the case here – Jim is practically surrounded by superstitious, spirit-appeasing characters. In one scene, a respected colleague admits he will not take Yan in, despite being married to her cousin. Is it because Yan thinks she sees ghosts? On the contrary, it’s because she might actually see them, and both this rational-seeming medical professional and his wife are terrified of ghosts.

“There are already so many people in Hong Kong. Where would the ghosts live?” Jim asks his colleague. Nevertheless, in typical cinematic psychiatry-fashion, he and Yan manage to develop a close friendship over a short period of time, as he attempts to unearth the repressed memories responsible for her specters, including being abandoned by her parents when very young and rejected by a boyfriend after getting too possessive. But is burying the past and boosting her self-esteem really all Yan needs? Meanwhile, what’s up with the strange changes the good doctor appears to go through, including insomnia and flashbacks that initially seem connected to Yan’s childhood?

Like “The Sixth Sense,” there is a mighty twist, only it happens about an hour in as opposed to the last five minutes. As such, “Inner Senses” is a movie of two halves, the first carried along by scare scenes and the burgeoning relationship between the two leads, the second by recycling the first half’s themes of repression, trauma and suicide, and amping up the stuff going bump in the night. Unfortunately, the latter represents the film at its weakest; “Inner Senses” has some creepy-effective moments early on and in the middle, as we wonder if Jim’s problems are purely psychological, the result of a fear of intimacy. But as soon as the horror gets more visceral, the movie just gets grosser and goofier. On the bright side, it culminates in what could be the most touching necrophilia scene ever committed to celluloid.

But at least the first half sets up enough clues that we don’t feel cheated once the twist kicks in. We also come to care about the protagonists; Kam and Cheung convey vulnerability well, and Cheung’s performance is particularly great, the actor practically embodying such qualities as intelligence, decency, and empathy. He also shows a wealth of versatility in scenes I won’t get give away, except to say they could be compared to Mickey Rourke in “Angel Heart,” which I mean as the highest compliment. It should be noted that “Inner Senses” was the last movie Cheung worked on before committing suicide, and watching him try to help someone with their personal demons seems highly ironic, knowing how he ultimately couldn’t outrun his own.

Overall rating: *** (out of ****)

TRIAD ELECTION (2006), dir. Johnnie To

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There are two types of gangsters that populate this film – angry, cocky ones and calmer guys who look like they belong in a boardroom. “Triad Election” argues the second kind is always more dangerous.

This sequel to 2005’s “Election” returns to the universe of the Triads, the brotherhood to which all organized crime gangs in Hong Kong belong. According to tradition, every two years the inner circle of elderly “boss”-types picks a new chairman, who is essentially a CEO of crime. For the past two years, Lok (Simon Yam) has held that role and the brotherhood has flourished, but with a new election around the corner, some young, hungry challengers have thrown their hats into the ring. Unfortunately, what none of them realize is Lok wants an unprecedented second term.

Of the Triads’ various up-and-comers, the most qualified for the chairmanship would be Jimmy (Louis Koo), an illegal porn-dealer turned legitimate businessman. However, during a dinner with Lok and his other “brothers,” Jimmy makes it clear he’s not interested, seemingly paving the way for Kun (Ka Tung Lan), who acts like he has chips on both shoulders, or Jet (Nick Cheung), Lok’s right-hand man, whom he promises to make chairman in exchange for his loyalty.

What starts off semi-familial – the middle-aged Lok, surrounded by his five “sons” – becomes a tightly-paced sequence of double-crosses and unsavory violence, spurred by the Chinese government’s blocking of Jimmy’s grand scheme to develop land just inside their border. Apparently, only Chinese patriots are allowed to do business in China, and the only way Jimmy can become a patriot, he is told, is to become Triad chairman. Since he doesn’t reveal his motivation to the other “brothers,” Jimmy and his loved ones are soon targeted by rivals, just as he finds his morals being increasingly challenged by the inner circle’s demands.

Having not seen “Election” beforehand (Actually, I thought “Triad Election” was “Election”; it wasn’t until the opening credits, in which it’s called “Election 2” that I realized my mistake), I wasn’t sure how many moral codes Jimmy broke in the first film to get where he is, e.g., whether he previously ordered a man’s death. Either way, he does it here, and it’s only the first of a number of transgressions. The violence gets pretty disturbing, such as the torture sequence where a man gets beaten to death with a sledge-hammer, ground up, and fed to a German shepherd. But To, who is Hong Kong’s pre-eminent filmmaker, choreographs the competition with the elegance of a chess match: each player biding their time, not giving away their respective strategies, and only shedding blood when it matters most.

To, who has made movies of all genres, employs stillness to nearly Zen-like effect. Countless shots consist of characters sitting silently or staring off into the distance, making them look about as glamorous as models in a magazine ad. However, it also serves to ratchet up the suspense, as his protagonists become like coiled snakes, always in the midst of contemplating their next move, which they act in swift, deadly fashion. This feeling of calm also gets expressed through the smooth camerawork and in the musical score, which often consists of either a faint drumming or a few notes on a stringed instrument repeated over and over again, creating a vibe of steadiness.

“Triad Election” is a crime film of surprising depth, even if most of the supporting players are thinly characterized. There is a recurring subplot, about the lengths both Jimmy and Lok are willing to go to keep their progeny away from the gangster life. When Jimmy tells his wife early on, “Our children will be doctors and lawyers,” he’s not just talking as a parent who wants his progeny to achieve great things; what he wants, we sense, is for them to have legitimate jobs, to not have to exist in the shadows, as he has had to.

Similarly, Lok has an adolescent son named Denny, and his efforts to shield him from his father’s Triad life have twisted their relationship. When he finds out Denny may be involved in gang activity, he and his henchmen confront his son and a group of youthful hoods in a restaurant. Unfortunately, violence breaks out, and the boy runs off, frightened of his own father. After Lok unsuccessfully tries to catch him on foot, he gets in a car and watches as his son speeds off. “Don’t scare him,” he tells his men, his face an unexpectedly moving mask of sadness and worry. “Just bring him home.”

One could also read into the relationship between Jimmy and mainland China as reflecting the Hong Kong film industry’s anxiety about the mother country, whether it will respect their traditions, or toss them aside if the upside is wealth and power. If the first “Election” is anywhere near as good as “Triad Election,” the series deserves its reputation as one of Hong Kong’s best in recent years. But for my money, it isn’t quite up there with “The Godfather,” despite the shared attributes of darkly-lit atmosphere and small men fighting over small corners of power.

My problem is with the epilogue and what happens to Jimmy, which I won’t give away. Suffice it to say, this movie is intended to be a tragedy, and tragedies – for me, anyway – are always more interesting if the protagonist falls through a weakness in his/her own character. In “The Godfather, Part II,” for example, Michael Corleone had the whole world in his hands, but lost it because he couldn’t forgive his brother’s betrayal. Again, I don’t want to say what happens to Jimmy, except it appears he was always up against powers far greater than his own. In the end, he never stood a chance, but maybe in the next life, he’ll be more wary of guys in suits who look like they belong in the boardroom.

Overall rating: ***1/2 (out of ****)

AB-NORMAL BEAUTY (2004), dir. Oxide Pang

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A little too over the top to be genuinely scary, “Ab-normal Beauty” is nevertheless an effective thriller about obsession and the dark paths it can lead down. Some will consider it unfortunate the chosen path has already been explored in films like “The Cell” and “Hostel,” but in my opinion, that’s where the movie actually gets interesting. Overall, this is a solid effort from half the internationally-famous Pang Brothers filmmaking team.

“Ab-normal Beauty” centers on Jiney (Race Wong), a Hong Kong art student who seemingly has it all: good looks, a comfortable lifestyle, and a talented eye when it comes to art and photography. But despite being the best in her class, she’s morose and withdrawn, only awakening a little around her gal-pal Jas (Rosanne Wong) or when training her camera on something. Her nature changes, however, after witnessing a bloody car accident outside her home, at which point Jiney becomes fixated with capturing images of guts and viscera. That, in turn, leads to an escalating amount of personal risk-taking and taboo-transgression for the sake of art.

“When I press the button on my shutter, everything stops. It’s the same way with death,” Jiney says at one point. The screenplay, by director Oxide Pang and Pak Sing Pang, provides some back-story as to why the big sleep could be such a big turn on, connecting it to an unresolved childhood trauma which seems wholly unnecessary (wouldn’t the alienating and de-sensitizing nature of modern urban life have been enough explanation?) until it gets harkened back to by the final, haunting frame.

Like just about anything by the Pang Brothers, “Ab-normal Beauty” features vibrant colors, music video-style editing, and a throbbing techno score. But to the credit of Oxide Pang, who flies solo this time, the bells and whistles occasionally add up to more than just a superficial attempt to be “cool”; some of the best sequences bring the viewer into Jiney’s mind, allowing us to experience it getting re-wired for blood. For example, there is a scene in which Jiney becomes obsessed with photographing chickens being slaughtered at market, so she pays a butcher to kill bird after bird while she snaps pictures and gives directions. What results is a brisk montage inter-cutting chickens pulled from their cages, their necks sliced, and their bodies tossed in an ever-growing pile, and the rush of all this activity, we assume, is exactly the kind of exhilaration that the protagonist herself is feeling.

There’s also one crazy sequence where Jiney, whose darkroom is normally illuminated by red light, is unable to tell the regular lights have been switched on – a terrific way to depict how blood-lusty she has become. For her, the world still looks crimson-hued, and all the photographs hanging on clotheslines start appearing to bleed. Creepily-effective stuff, and a shame it wasn’t arranged closer to the end of the film when her condition has gotten much worse, because it proves tough to top.

Now to close with a word about the last third: “Ab-normal Beauty” ends up in the kind of sick-green-hued dungeon managed by a twisted-looking soul one expects to find in the “Saw” movies. This is where the plot is at its most conventional, but it’s also a reason why I liked this movie; I can’t help thinking the filmmakers included it as a kind of commentary about society’s viewing habits, that when you have an audience obsessed with seeing images of death and suffering, gradually-escalating reactions (culminating in underground snuff films, which become an integral plot point) are bound to result. Pang might have been thinking about the spate of splatter movies popping up in Asia, but that doesn’t mean “Ab-normal Beauty” lacks universality. Indeed, viewed in context with the current trend of masochistic torture porn flicks that are so popular here in the U.S., “Ab-normal Beauty” gives us additional reasons to look at, and worry about ourselves.

Overall rating: *** (out of ****)

RUNNING ON KARMA (2003), dir. Johnnie To, Wai Ka-Fai

“Running on Karma” throws cops, kung fu, even a little slapstick comedy into a blender before giving them all a good spin. What results is a surprisingly-deep movie that’s as much about the teachings of Buddhism as the adventures of a super-powered monk, whose muscles would give the Hulk a run for his money.

The film opens with two storylines converging on the streets of Hong Kong: a male strip show gets busted by police, and a young cop named Yee (Cecilia Cheung) ends up chasing after one of the dancers, the very Schwarzenegger-looking Big (Andy Lau, wearing a muscle suit). Meanwhile, detectives from the Criminal Investigation Department are attacked by the prime suspect in an Indian immigrant’s death. During the ensuing chaos, the suspect escapes, Yee accidentally shoots a police dog, and Big has visions (which resemble static-filled television) of a boy chasing after another dog with a stick.

“I can see karma,” Big tells Yee after she rescues him from a brutal police beating, explaining that he is able to see a person or animal’s previous life, which can often predict what will happen in their current one. With the police dog, it was a case of karma coming back around, as it had once been a child who savagely beat a canine to death. Looking at Yee, who is ordered to help CID with their case, Big sees a military general in her own prior life, and offers to help using his mystical insights and knowledge of martial arts. After staring at the victim in the mortuary, he concludes the crime is the result of hatred so deep that it can only mean “many lifetimes of betrayal and trust,” which turns out to be an important clue.

With her guts and his big muscles, supernatural senses, and as it turns out, ability to float on air like a feather, it isn’t long before they track down CID’s suspect, who in the tradition of kung fu movies has skills that perfectly contrast with Big’s. Following the collar, he and Yee start running into each other more regularly: him helping to protect her during dangerous cases; her going to see him compete on the amateur boxing circuit. At this point, audiences would be forgiven for including the superhero film in “Running on Karma’s” genre mash-up, despite the noticeable lack of secret identities and costumes. Even Yee, who starts investigating Big’s past as a monk, only to discover that the loss of a close friend caused him to give up his life as an ascetic, cannot overlook the similarity; she muses on how amazing life must be that someone as average as her has an extraordinary person like him watching over her.

Alas, just when it seems both protagonists are on their way to a mutually-beneficial friendship, maybe even romance, the filmmakers throw in a twist that sends “Running on Karma” off the beaten path, and toward an ending that is heartbreaking, and also genuinely thoughtful. It’s here that Johnnie To and Wai Ka-Fai both show they have more in mind than just wire-fighting fun; indeed, this may be a movie ostensibly about Eastern religion, but it has a message that can be applied to faith in general: that the challenge of spiritual enlightenment isn’t keeping up the practice of religious ideals, it’s not letting go of them, despite a world that challenges those beliefs constantly.

The seriousness of the third act may surprise some viewers, given how the first hour does have some comedic moments, namely the sight of Big, oversize muscles and all, attempting to ride a moped with disastrous results. I assume Big had to be a larger-than-life character in order to seem analogous to Buddha himself, but the prosthetic suit is the worst thing in the movie. Although his appearance gradually stops being a distraction as he appears more frequently with clothing on, there are moments when bad lighting, or having Big shirtless and supposedly performing acrobatic moves in mid-air, are such that even Lau’s considerable charisma cannot overcome the fakery. But even if these problems result in “Running on Karma” not being a great movie, it’s still a good one.

Overall rating: *** (out of ****)

J.S.A.: JOINT SECURITY AREA (2001), dir. Chan-wook Park

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This 2001 Chan-wook Park thriller exploits the ongoing tension between North and South Korea, one nation divided since the 1940's. For those (like me) without prior knowledge of the Korean peninsula's current political climate, North equals “Commie,” while South equals “Yankee,” and “Yankees” and “Commies” don’t like each other, as anyone living during the 1970’s and 80’s can tell you. In an attempt to simplify the politics in the peninsula for viewers outside of Asia, the screenwriters have characters yell things like “Commie bastard!” and “Yankee puppet!” repeatedly at each other, as if either phrase could embody their complex feelings. I’m ashamed to say the ploy works.

Actually, it’s a blessing not having to dwell on the politics that have shaped the geographical powder keg that is Korea, especially since “J.S.A.” tells a mystery in complex, “Rashomon”-style format. The title refers to the “Joint Security Area,” the American-occupied territory between the two countries, which belongs neither to the north, nor the south. One night, gunfire is heard on the northern side of the J.S.A., and a South Korean sergeant named Lee staggers across a foot bridge, back to the southern side, just as troops from both armies gather and an incident results. When an investigator from the Neutral Nations Security Council (N.N.S.C.) arrives to get facts, and calm what threatens to become a provocation for war, she gets conflicting stories from both sides. Along with being different, both "official reports" sound highly unlikely.

According to the report from Lee, North Korean soldiers slipped across the J.S.A. and kidnapped him. They took him back across the border, and held him hostage until he broke loose, then killed two of his abductors. Meanwhile, the report by Sergeant Oh of the North Korean army states that Lee crossed into enemy territory of his own volition, then acted out of cold blood, wounding Sergeant Oh and killing two of his comrades. Like “Rashomon,” or movies heavily-influenced by the Kurosawa film, such as “Courage Under Fire" and “Hero,” the mystery of what happened north of the “J.S.A.” is gradually unraveled. As each new tidbit of information is introduced, pivotal scenes are shown again, in light of what N.N.S.C. Inspector Sophie Jean, and the audience, are now aware of. Ultimately, the truth is more complicated than either “official story” we had been given. Nevertheless, it all fits together in a logical and believable way.

Like the more successful "Rashomon" clones over the years, the flashback technique helps tell the story in a manner that builds and sustains suspense. Meanwhile, "J.S.A." also allows an important window into how South Koreans view their brothers to the north, showing the strong reunification urge that pervades the region. Indeed, despite their duties to their respective nations, the soldiers on both sides eventually start crossing the J.S.A. to exchange pleasantries and learn more about one another, and their burgeoning friendship is portrayed downright idyllically, almost like children playing. Sure, Chanwook Park’s film seems to ignore the possible negative consequences of the two countries becoming one again (specifically, if it occurs under the flag of North Korean dictator Kim Jong-Il, whose regime has been condemned by the American president), but its overriding message, about the tragedy of one people turned against itself due to borders and nationalism, is highly potent.

Also potent: Park’s directing style, a mixture of sleek cinematography and MTV-ish editing that propels the story along. While Park has had greater international success with his 2003 revenge flick “Oldboy,” this older film has less of an S&M edge, even if it retains some of his recognizable black humor (at one point, the image of a character moving in slow-motion flips upside-down to reveal he's falling, which has the same effect of surprise on the viewer as it would on the protagonists). Finally, whereas “Oldboy” was intense, psychological, and occasionally weird, “J.S.A.” is more of a standard drama, requiring Park to do what he can to make conventional scenes visually-interesting. He manages to nimbly direct a sequence where Lee’s rescue team attempts to suppress the North Koreans while retrieving him from a footbridge. The battle culminates in one of those shots you can’t help remembering afterward: the camera looking down on Lee from overhead, then slowly panning back as bullets whiz back-and-forth.

Park uses the overhead crane shot several times at the border—above the actual line that is supposed to separate the north from the south. Framed this way, it looks like a very thin divider, very unimpressive. Could this be Park’s way of pointing out the ridiculousness of the line itself, that a strip of paint on the ground cannot determine the fate of an entire people? And wouldn’t he have a point? Not that reunification should happen the way the world is now, but let’s face it, when a flimsy line is all that stands between two peoples itching to cross it, isn’t reconciliation inevitable?

Overall rating: *** (out of ****)

ON GUARD (2002), dir. Philippe de Broca

“On Guard” doesn’t exactly re-invent the swashbuckling adventurer, but it’s entertaining in a big-budget movie-ish kind of way. The film stars a very Depardieu-looking Daniel Auteuil as Lagardere, a roguish swordsman who goes from outlaw to hero, discovering friendship, honor, and love along the way.

Written and directed by Philippe de Broca, “On Guard” practically threatens to sweep us away with its magnificent scenery and sense of grown-up intrigue. Lagardere is initially hired to assassinate his rival, the Duke of Nevers (Vincent Perez), who is master of an invincible fencing technique that involves running through an opponent’s forehead (apparently, there is a weak point). After sparing his life, Nevers reveals he has an heir whom he did not know about until recently, and hires Lagardere to accompany him into the countryside to visit both the child and its mother.

The pair bond during the course of their journey, the lord growing to admire his social inferior’s rise from poverty: Born a bastard, Lagardere was raised as a circus acrobat, where he honed his considerable fencing skills. The Duke eventually knights him, and when it looks like some masked men on horseback are going to ambush them, teaches him the devastating Nevers Attack. Unfortunately, even that is not enough to ward off tragedy, and Lagardere is left responsible for Nevers’ infant daughter, whom he names Aurore and raises as his own until the day justice can be served.

It takes about 14 years for the day of retribution to arrive; however, that’s about par for the course with any sword-fighting movie where vengeance is the driving motivator. The refreshingly simple plot is buoyed by near-operatic performances by Auteuil and his cast-mates: indeed, Auteuil not only has some of the same shaggy dog qualities as Depardieu, but like that famous French actor, attacks his role with fire and passion. On the other hand, the main villain, a scheming cousin of Nevers’ who wants the family fortune all to himself, is rotten inside and out and near-irredeemable by film’s end. The Count Gonzague (Fabrice Luchini) not only plots to cheat and/or kill his relatives, but bilks the public through a non-existent colony abroad, surrounds himself with scarred killers and hunchbacks, and when ultimately cornered, won’t even face Lagardere like a man.

Meanwhile, Aurore has grown into a beautiful, strong young woman (played by Marie Gillain), raising the question: if the man whom you thought all your life was your father turned out not to be that, what would you do? Some may find the answer creepy; some may view it as merely an example of impossible romance, which befits a movie where characters seemingly wear their hearts on their sleeves. Personally, I think de Broca is trying to provide a counterpoint to Gonzague, a rat born to a noble house. By contrast, Lagardere, who arrived in the world with little in the way of advantages, gets the opportunity to sit pretty because he does the right thing.

“On Guard’s” old-fashioned moral code goes hand-in-hand with an old-fashioned shooting style. In an age where swordfights can be chopped up to near-indecipherable results in the editing room, here they are shot in long, continuous takes from a distance, so the viewer really gets to see the fluid movements of participants. Unfortunately, filming them this way also means there’s less of the frenetic energy swashbucklers like “Pirates of the Caribbean” have in abundance; even when de Broca punctuates with a foil through the noggin, the blood spurt is more like a period than an explanation point.

Overall rating: *** (out of ****)

THE JACKET (2005), dir. John Maybury

Like many supernatural-themed movies, “The Jacket” makes certain demands of its audience. In this case, it’s: one, that they’re willing to accept the idea ghosts have nothing better to do than help sullen-eyed teenagers they barely knew before expiring; and two, that the course of an entire life can be predicated by a single event 14 years in the past.

The third expectation is no one will care this movie ultimately makes no sense, so long as it makes good on the tragic romance at its center between Jack Starks (Adrien Brody), who may be crazy or may actually be traveling through time, and a young woman named Jackie (Keira Knightley). The pair first meets in 1993, when she is a little girl stranded beside a Vermont road with her mom. Jack fixes their truck for them, but Jean’s mother proves ungrateful, so he ends up hitching a ride with a mysterious stranger who kills a cop, then frames him for it.

The authorities refuse to believe Jack’s story that someone else committed the murder, since he has mental problems stemming from being shot in the head while serving in the Persian Gulf. He ends up being committed to a hospital for the criminally-insane, where the gruff head shrink (Kris Kristofferson) subjects him to an outdated form of therapy, which involves being fit into a strait jacket, then slid into a locker.

Trapped, Jack has a vision of the year 2007, where he meets a grown-up Jackie whom he doesn’t immediately recognize. She, in turn, doesn’t know who he is either, both because he has barely aged since she last saw him 14 years prior, and because it turns out Jack Starks died on January 1, 1993. From then on, the movie see-saws back-and-forth between 1993 and 2007, between Jack and Jean falling in love in the future and trying to unravel the mysterious circumstances of his death, and his using knowledge from 2007 to help people in the past, including the one kindly doctor in the whole asylum (Jennifer Jason-Leigh).

Clues and events fall into place like puzzle pieces, and the cinematography has a certain bleak consistency. Writer Massy Tadjedin and director John Maybury, however, seem less assured about the film’s overall tone, alternating between creepiness whenever Jack is in solitude and a more straightforward, dramatic mood for scenes outside the locker.

“The Jacket” also strains credibility in ways other movies about mentally-unstable individuals who think they’re time travelers – “12 Monkeys” comes to mind – manage to avoid. Granted, Adrien Brody is a good enough actor to sell every scene he’s in, but considering how crazy his story sounds, his character has a relatively easy time getting others to believe him, and the most incredulous instance may be his convincing Leigh’s medical professional to perform electro-shock therapy on a small boy who appears to have autism.

In addition, the opening footage of the Persian Gulf War left a bad taste in my mouth, mainly because the protagonist’s status as a veteran is completely incidental. He could be a truck driver and the film would more or less turn out the same; but that he was a soldier, along with some brief dialogue about how patients like Jack are treated as criminals, allow the illusion this movie has some kind of relevance today. But really, “The Jacket” is little more than New Age treacle dressed up like something considerably more important, and ends up ignoring some basic time travel-related paradoxes for the sake of a lazy, feel-good ending, where nothing is impossible except actually buying this hokum.

Overall rating: ** (out of ****)

THE BOTHERSOME MAN (2006), dir. Jens Lien

In reviews, this film has been compared to a feature-length episode of “The Twilight Zone,” but having seen “The Bothersome Man,” I realize it’s a favorable comparison. The best science-fiction reflects real world concerns through fantasy scenarios, and in this deliberately-paced, Icelandic meander, the numbness of modern society is allegorized through a strange city that may be the after-life, and either a heaven or hell depending on one’s taste.

The film opens with its main character, Andreas (Trond Fausa Aurvaag), leaping into the path of an oncoming train. When next we see him, he is arriving via bus at a station house in what appears to be the outskirts somewhere, at which point he gets a lift to the aforementioned city, which looks at any other metropolis. Here he has a job and apartment waiting for him.

The work is relatively-unchallenging, and it isn’t long before Andreas starts staring out of windows, noticing strange things about the city, such as the lack of smells, and the fact there are never children around. He also finds that food doesn’t taste like anything, and no matter how much alcohol he imbibes, it never has any effect. One day, during a dinner party with friends, he meets a beautiful woman named Anne (Petronella Barker); they make love after a date, but the act seems rote and mechanical.

“It doesn’t always have to be good, but…” he hears another man complain one day. The stranger goes on about how much he misses hot chocolate, and it isn’t long before Andreas begins to miss it, too.

Earlier, I had described this film as taking place in a possible heaven or hell, a fact reinforced by how Andreas cannot do lasting harm to his body. He slices off a finger in a workplace machine, only to find his hand all better just a short time later. Later, he does worse, in a sequence involving subway trains that’s the most eye-opening thing in the movie, both for its unflinching goriness as well as its droll, black humor.

But notice that I spelled heaven and hell with lower-case “h’s.” Jens Lien’s film is entirely non-religious, and from an allegorical standpoint, the common man’s miraculous healing ability may just be screenwriter Per Schreiner’s way of illustrating how the average lifespan has been prolonged. Meanwhile, the inability to do self-harm also means suicide is impossible, which could reflect modern anxieties that the current miseries – icy cordiality in lieu of genuine feelings, rampant consumerism, failure of traditional means of self-medication for escape – will never end, just go on and on.

There is, however, another choice for living, which is to not conform, to actively seek out the sensations felt missing from existence. In the course of the film, that appears to mean reaching for something more idyllic, something consisting of more traditional values. Of course, when most of society is happy with the way things are, this kind of act has consequences, and it’s a shame Andreas couldn’t have fought for those simpler pleasures a little more vigorously.

Had that happened, he might have seemed like more of a tragic hero, rather than just a poor mope. In turn, “The Bothersome Man” might have left viewers feeling galvanized and angry. As it is, it’s a near-masterpiece of sustained tension, drab colors, and emotional remoteness.

Overall rating: ***1/2 (out of ****)

MAIKO HAAAAN!!! (2007), dir. Nobuo Mizuta

(Courtesy of Pop Culture Shock!)

The best compliment I can pay “Maiko Haaaan!!!” is that it goes beyond its initial premise, in which an obsessed otaku (Sadao Abe) attempts to infiltrate the world of geisha, which is usually reserved for wealthy and important men.

Indeed, Kimihiko Onizuka, who works as an office drone but runs his own website for all things geisha-related, starts off not belonging to either category, but two events push him up the ladder of success, slapstick-style: being transferred to Kyoto, home of Japan’s geisha district; and being subsequently rebuffed by every geisha house in town. It seems that according to tradition, one can only enter such a place accompanied by a regular, and absolutely no newcomers are allowed.

Luckily, the president of the ramen manufacturer for whom Onizuka works is such a V.I.P., and tells him if he makes lots of money for the company, Onizuka can come along on his next visit. At this point, “Maiko Haaaan!!!” could have been about its main protagonist repeatedly trying and failing to accomplish this task, but director Nobuo Mizuta and screenwriter Kankuro Kudo have something considerably more interesting in mind.

Sure, the Hand of Fate puts up a few obstacles at first, but by the midway point, Onizuka accomplishes his long-held dream of setting foot inside a geisha house. The question then becomes: What to do with the rest of the movie? In a neat twist, Onizuka decides to push himself even further and become even more successful, at which point he can date, possibly even marry a geisha, thereby experiencing their world to its fullest depth. The endeavor also allows Onizuka a chance to show up an obnoxious professional baseball player, who had previously-ridiculed him on-line. Both have their eye on the same maiko – the term for apprentice geisha.

There is also a sub-plot involving Onizuka’s ex-girlfriend, who after they have an ugly falling out, moves to Kyoto and enrolls in a geisha school herself (whether this is to win him back or get revenge is never clear). Through her perspective, which is ostensibly less fetishistic than Onizuka’s would be, the viewer gets expository information about the art form, and learns the road to becoming a traditional Japanese entertainer is not an easy one.

Overall, “Maiko Haaaan!!!” has a tone that is more wacky than serious – even when the third act introduces a highly-melodramatic subplot – and the filmmakers cram the 120-minute running time with as many hit-or-miss jokes as possible. Nevertheless, appreciating this movie means learning to tolerate the main character, whose least-annoying attributes aren’t his bowl haircut or penchant for plaid suits; rather, it’s his whole hyperactive shtick, complete with manic facial contortions and childish meltdowns, which get really old really fast, whether or not they’re stereotypical otaku behaviors.

Can otaku and geisha learn to live together in harmony? Kudo wisely decides to not make Onizuka the lone freak amidst a gallery of straight men and women, and if anything, there might be a three-way tie for most screwed-up character in the film. This is consistent with the message that reality is never quite as good as fantasy, and obtaining the object of one’s obsessions doesn’t necessarily equal happiness.

Overall rating: **1/2 (out of ****)

THE LUCKY ONES (2008), dir. Neil Burger

It’s been six years since the Iraq War began, and during that time, cinema has explored it from the perspective of soldiers on the ground (“Redacted”) as well as back home (“Stop-Loss”). Now here comes “The Lucky Ones,” a road movie about a trio of soldiers on leave from combat. As the title indicates, they’ve been fortunate enough to survive this long, but as writers Neil Burger and Dirk Wittenborn point out, that doesn’t mean they aren’t the walking wounded physically, emotionally, and psychologically.

Audiences won’t find a paraplegic Jon Voight shuffling around on a hospital gurney, but all three main characters – Army soldiers on 30-day leave from Iraq – are having to cope with some part of their life or identity lost. For an ambitious lieutenant named T. K. (Michael Peña), it’s the function of his private parts; for Private Colee (Rachel McAdams), it’s a close friend whom the movie insinuates may have been her lover.

Meanwhile, the older Cheever (Tim Robbins) starts off as the most level-headed of the three, looking forward to returning to his suburban St. Louis life after a two-year tour of duty. But after agreeing to give his fellow soldiers a lift when JFK Airport is grounded by a blackout, Cheever’s happy homecoming turns out far from that: in rapid succession, his wife requests a divorce; his son needs $20,000 to attend Stanford; and the factory where he used to be employed has just gone under.

Luckily, the military sticks together. Floundering Cheever has a brother in Salt Lake City he can visit, and as it happens, both T. K. and Colee are heading westward to Las Vegas, anyway: the former to see a sexual “professional” as a last-ditch effort to cure his impotence; the latter to return her dead beau’s guitar to his family, which strangely enough, doesn’t know she’s on the way.

The road trip part of “The Lucky Ones” could have been tired, fish-out-of-water stuff, as the characters drive their rented van through states where everyone talks in southern drawls. However, the filmmakers go in the opposite direction: rather than treat them like strangers, many of the people encountered go out of their way to be hospitable to servicemen, be it inviting them to a fancy garden party, providing them the last rental vehicle, or as T. K. discovers at one point, offering him free sexual services.

In the face of these situations, which are dramatic, humorous, but never quite hysterical, all three leads do credible work, especially McAdams, who conveys unspoken loneliness beneath her unbridled enthusiasm. Peña, on the other hand, manages to keep a straight face through repeated digs at his precious manhood, the most subtly-funny one involving a car crash where he’s nearly impaled on an erect pipe.

All in all, the movie has its heart in the right place, fully supporting the average fighting man despite its opinions about the war itself. There’s also a not-too-subtle message the military is one big family capable of giving us back what we’ve lost. Now if only the screenplay weren’t occasionally spotty: through the characters on the periphery, Burger and Wittenborn run the gamut of attitudes about the Iraq War and those fighting it, some being supportive, others indifferent.

Unfortunately, the characterizations are also a bit shrill at times. In one instance, Cheever encounters a war-hawk who bites his head off after he says they’re “just trying to survive” in Iraq. “With an attitude like that…,” the hawk starts off, implying the soldiers abroad suffer from a loser mentality.

There’s another scene involving a barroom brawl instigated by McAdams’ otherwise good girl, where it’s a little too easy siding with her, given the obnoxious teenie-boppers who push her too far could qualify for Worst Human Beings Ever status. Bad enough they look down on her serving in the military instead of attending prestigious Indiana University (yeah, that’s sarcasm); one of them mimics Colee’s limp behind her back. Clearly, this stuck-up bitch is not supposed to be an example of observed human behavior, but rather, a punching bag we’ll take satisfaction in seeing worked, especially if our brave fighting men and women are doing the working.

Overall grade: *** (out of ****)

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15 (2003), dir. Royston Tan

From an outsider’s point of view, “15” is a fascinating film, depicting the alienated and dangerous lives of older boys in Singapore, who flock to gangs as a means of escaping loneliness and – it is implied – academic pressure. Perhaps every scene is not as fresh and shocking as it would have been, say, 15 years ago, but there are some brilliant moments, and the hyper-stylized nature of the whole production gets across an appropriate tone of alienation, to a certain point.

Through a blitz of jump cuts, bells and whistles, and music video-style editing, Royston Tan’s film follows the exploits of a handful of youths through three loosely-connected narratives: The first involves two gang “brothers,” one of whom is on the precipice of failing school. Out of loyalty, the other offers to help him cheat, promising that if one has to go down, the other will, too. A second thread involves a youth named Shaun (Shaun Tan), who had been a friend of the first two boys until one became jealous. Forced away from their bond of intimacy, he joins a rival gang, befriends another gang brother, and becomes involved in drug-dealing.

The latter storyline gets particularly harrowing, while a third thread mixes some dark humor with a similarly-bleak premise: Shaun and his new gang brother Vynn (Vynn Soh) meet Erick (Erick Chun), a wayward hood looking for a building to commit suicide from. In my opinion, this is the best of the three narratives, and not just because it gets the characters out and exploring the urban metropolis. On one level, it’s funny to watch Shaun and Vynn get every gang in Singapore involved helping stage this death spectacle; at the same time, it’s genuinely heartbreaking watching Erick march solemnly towards oblivion, seemingly unaware of the fact he has made new friends, which in theory, would cure his need to end it all.

Along with scenes of fighting, self-mutilation, menacing, gang songs, and quiet emoting, “15” keeps coming back to two themes: the alienation supposedly being felt by youth throughout Singapore, and how the bond between “brothers” is so intimate it veers close to homosexuality. Although Tan never says so explicitly, his film seems to argue the two are connected, that parental pressures to succeed, as well as either too strict or a non-existent home life are driving youth to either suicide or gangs, which provide the love and acceptance they aren’t getting anywhere else. Hence, the irony of Erick’s situation: initially, when Shaun asks Erick why he wants to kill himself, all he says is the equivalent of, “If you were in my shoes, you’d want to do it, too.” However, the film’s closing coda reveals the real reason is a girl dumped him.

Overall, the movie has a definite emotional impact, especially the middle and final thirds, in which the slick polish gives way to something more visceral, and the narrative takes the obsessive love between “brothers” to its most logical and tragic conclusion. But if “15” has any glaring weakness, it’s that the film is so overdone, it occasionally obscures whatever statement Tan is trying to make. There are too many scenes like the drug use sequence, which features a neat CGI-generated flower petal floating around characters’ heads, but goes on for so long that it starts feeling less like the perspective of the film’s disconnected protagonists, and more like the point-of-view of a director trying to be “cool.” Less style would have gone a long way toward making “15” a more effective eye-opener.

Overall rating: *** (out of ****)

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TROUBLE THE WATER (2008), dir. Tia Lessin and Carl Deal and Kimberly Rivers Roberts

Sometimes a great film happens by accident. According to “Trouble the Water’s” production notes, Lessin and Deal had planned a movie about soldiers serving in Iraq who returned home to New Orleans following Hurricane Katrina. However, after the National Guard cut off their access, they took a side trip to a nearby Red Cross shelter, where they encountered Kimberly Rivers Roberts and her husband Scott. The meeting ended up changing the course of the film.

One week earlier, the Roberts’ had escaped the flooded city themselves, but not without having to take the initiative for their own survival. “Trouble the Water” shows the experience of Hurricane Katrina from their perspective, the impact of which feels immediate and authentic. But the film also chronicles their attempts to build a new future afterward, and tries to examine why thousands of residents, many of whom were poor or minority, were seemingly abandoned by the state and federal government before and after the storm.

The movie could have consisted of talking heads and sound bytes, but Kimberly Roberts brought something besides her own words and memories: roughly two hours of videotape shot before, during, and after the storm. The footage allows Lessin and Deal to structure things differently from a standard documentary: the first half cuts back-and-forth between present times and the footage, and Roberts’ home movies become akin to the flashback sequences found in non-documentary narratives.

Seeing Kimberly and Scott, their low-income neighborhood, and their friends and relatives prior to Katrina's landfall makes the aftermath all the more dramatic. In total, roughly 15 minutes of Kimberly’s video before and during the storm gets used, and it’s easily the most riveting part of the film: there is palpable tension in the air as she interviews relatives and acquaintances waiting for the inevitable to arrive, while the footage shot during the storm itself consists of murky violence as the elements threaten to tear the Roberts’ world apart.

Kimberly’s video captures just how dire the situation was, but also shows people rising to the occasion. “I never thought God would have use for a man like me,” says a man named Larry who, utilizing a punching bag as a flotation device, rescues the Roberts’ and some family members who are holed up in an attic. Indeed, a recurring theme in “Trouble the Water” is redemption: most of the main characters, including Kimberly and Scott, lived life hard and fast on the mean streets. After Katrina, however, they are helping the smaller, frailer, and older get out of New Orleans alive – what the state and federal authorities failed to do, the movie can’t help pointing out.

According to characters in the film, help from either the state or National Guard did not materialize for days, and when the military did arrive, their priorities leaned more toward safeguarding property than providing relief. A confrontation between residents and armed soldiers over the use of an abandoned Navy base is told from multiple perspectives; unfortunately, the military never quite comes out looking pristine in either telling.

Occasionally, the tone gets a little too snarky, such as when a soldier’s comment that “civilians don’t know the basics of survival” is juxtaposed with Scott’s story of breaking into a high school and stealing food from vending machines. The gut reaction is to respond, “Hey, it may be vandalism, but they all survived, didn’t they?”

If “Trouble the Water” has a potential flaw, it isn’t the human dramas captured by Lessin, Deal, or Kimberly Roberts, the latter an aspiring rap artist whose impromptu performance of a song called “Amazing” provides the film its emotional catharsis. Rather, it’s the fact Lessin and Deal have a history working with documentary-maker Michael Moore, whose mention in the press notes alone raises questions about a possible liberal bias. Does it feel as if more effort could have gone into getting the Bush administration’s side of why the response supposedly went badly? Maybe, but there’s no denying the power of the Roberts’ footage, and lest we forget, they are the ones who lived through the storm.

Overall rating: ***1/2 (out of ****)

VICKY CRISTINA BARCELONA (2008), dir. Woody Allen

A character remarks to Cristina (Scarlett Johansson), who has spent the last six months directing a short film about love: “That’s a mighty big subject to handle in 12 minutes.” It’s no easier in 97, which is the running time for “Vicky Cristina Barcelona.” But that’s probably the point; despite trading in Manhattan and London for Spain’s picturesque cities and countryside, like Allen’s other relationship comedies, his latest is concerned with the elusive nature of love, how, as he himself put it once: “The heart wants what it wants.”

Vicky (Rebecca Hall) and Cristina, two Americans abroad, are best friends with very different attitudes and expectations about love. The former, who has come to Barcelona to do research for her Master’s thesis, plays it safe and as such, is engaged to a boring-but-nice yuppie back home. Cristina, on the other hand, is recently single and on the lookout for love of the fiery kind. After exchanging glances with an intense-looking artist named Juan Antonio (Javier Bardem), the trio has another change encounter, at which point he propositions them to spend the weekend with him.

Cristina readily accepts, Vicky begrudgingly to keep her friend out of trouble. Once all the dialogue regarding how Cristina could possibly find his come-on attractive dies down, what follows resembles a Merchant-Ivory production, thanks in no small part to the most adventurous cinematography in an Allen film since “Husbands and Wives” (Indeed, this could be the first time he’s ever used gauzy camera work – seemingly the tell-tale sign of adult sophistication) and the Americans abroad plot. The sights of Barcelona and Oviedo are used to particularly-romantic effect, with fountains, churches, and in one key scene, the famous Tibidabo Amusement Park practically standing-in as characters.

But at its heart, “Vicky Cristina Barcelona” is, like “Annie Hall” and “Manhattan,” a relationship movie where the plot goes hand-in-hand with the characters’ psychologies. As such, even after some unexpected hitches and emotional upheavals, Vicky and Cristina continue pursuing what they want, or believe they have always wanted. That, in turn, either takes them to the next logical step in their own respective relationships, back into orbit with one another, or into the company of new characters, such as Juan Antonio’s brilliant, but unstable wife Maria Elena (Penelope Cruz, stunningly dressed-down).

The rest of the cast does uniformly good work as well, moving comfortably with the ebb and flow of a screenplay where events don’t necessarily happen as we expect. But we always have a good idea what the characters are thinking (also due to voice-over narration by Christopher Evan Welch, which actually seems unnecessary and intrusive at times), so the movie never feels dishonest. The end result is comedy and verbal sparring, romance, personal angst, postcard settings, and an underlying message as well, that it’s human nature to long for what we cannot have, and to long for something else once we get what we want. Viewers may long for something more than that seemingly-anti-cathartic lesson, but in the end, the movie is only 97 minutes.

Overall rating: ***1/2 (out of ****)

QUITTING (2001), dir. Zhang Yang

There has been no shortage of drug movies in recent years, but this one is noteworthy, mainly because of how the material is presented. Despite a plot that sounds like standard movie-of-the-week fare – the real-life story of actor Jia Hongsheng’s struggle with heroin addiction – the end result is engrossing. Part of that immediacy comes from director Yang’s decision to take the phrase “art imitating life” at its most literal, casting Hongsheng and his family as themselves in what amounts to a re-enactment of their personal Hell.

“Quitting” chronicles the four years during which Hongsheng’s parents and sister moved in with him, provided for his needs, and tried to help him break free of drug addiction and depression, twin demons that left him disassociated from the outside world. Once a moderately-successful film actor, he had not taken a role in years, instead secluding himself in his apartment to watch television and listen to music. Starting at the protagonists’ lows before crawling toward redemption, “Quitting” shows the family contending with Hongsheng’s unpredictable mood swings, their own stability as a unit exceedingly threatened by his anti-social behavior, which includes verbal and physical violence.

But as unsettling as the movie can get at times, director Yang, who is known for his humane attitude, is less interested in the visceral aspects of conflict, concentrating more on the insides of his characters’ heads. In the case of Hongsheng, he cuts in voice-overs and interviews with his present self, ultimately humanizing the monster into a beast we can partially understand: his urge for higher levels of experience, enthusiastic embrace of western culture, and rage against his parents’ more traditional, bucolic ways turning out to be derived from something as ordinary as a yearning to be special, itself a response to personal insecurities.

Meanwhile, as Hongsheng’s parents do everything we expect of nosy parents, we are made privy to their secret conversations and de-stabilizing of their relationship, how their strictness and nagging turns out to be counterbalanced by the unthinkable: growing fear of their own blood. Given that all these actors are really playing themselves, the performances take on an eerie life of their own; the scene in which Hongsheng, drunk, starts slapping around his father feels especially traumatic. Fortunately, the director chose to frame “Quitting” as a movie about a play, which in turn, is about real-life-events, and whenever things get too intense, Yang pulls back the camera to reveal how this is all theater, which provides the necessary emotional distance.

Some may complain about using such a device at all, but stage drama does take its power from unfolding real life before the audience’s eyes, which is the same effect Yang achieves through his casting. Admittedly, it can be awkward getting used to it at first, as is attempting to empathize with Hongsheng’s self-absorbed, ungrateful young man, but one comes away respecting his willingness not to be likeable. As Hongsheng himself learns about going cold turkey, sticking with “Quitting” long-term is a good decision.

Overall rating: ***1/2 (out of ****)

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ULTRAVIOLET (2006), dir. Kurt Wimmer

Based on the opening credits, “Ultraviolet” is supposed to resemble a comic book adaptation, but frankly, it contains everything one could expect from an Asian action flick. Of course, one could argue since the turn of the century, Asian cinema has been overwhelmingly influenced by “The Matrix” series, in which the camera became progressively more innovative, and so it is no surprise finding the lens moving through solid objects here, as well as framing special effects-laden sequences of elaborate mayhem from all crazy angles.

Nor is it shocking to see the use of “bullet-time,” the process pioneered by the makers of “The Matrix,” wherein the action proceeds in slow-motion but the camera does not. In “Ultraviolet,” writer-director Kurt Wimmer does try and mix things up, partially filming the “bullet-time” scene through the point-of-view of an actual bullet, which gets fired at the movie’s central fighting machine played by Milla Jovovich.

Aside from the choreography in some of these one-versus-many scenarios, most traces of creativity are visible in the costumes and production design of Wimmer’s otherwise routine dystopia film. Give him credit, though, for conceiving of giant bowling balls transforming into ninjas; weapons that fold out of wristbands; and something called an “anti-gravity” well, which can turn reality upside-down for both the protagonists and viewers; and all that’s just in the first half-hour.

Unfortunately, once the ultra-cool Violet – get it? – gets saddled with a cute little boy (Cameron Bright), you can pretty much plot the trajectory of her character from dismemberer to nurturer. Six, as the tyke is named, may represent a threat to Violet’s genetically-engineered, vampire-like race, but he’s also a call from the past, a surrogate for the baby she lost during her labored origin. Naturally, she tries to keep Six at an emotional distance while they’re on the run from an evil corporation, but her badass-hood is no match for maternal instinct, and it isn’t very long before her would-be callousness merely resembles a single mom’s tough love.

Luckily, there isn’t too much schmaltz, as the movie, in keeping with its resemblance to Asian cinema, is heavy on action but light on characterization. Indeed, conversations between Violet and the supporting cast are kept to the necessary minimum, and although we see two sides to Violet, everyone else – the child-like Six, the evil bad guy, the good friend – more-or-less fulfill types. No, there’s not much depth to “Ultraviolet,” but at least the surface visuals look cool. Maybe Wimmer can try adapting an actual comic book for his next project.

Overall rating: ** (out of ****)

THE DARK KNIGHT (2008), dir. Christopher Nolan

When Tim Burton’s 1989 “Batman” first came out, audiences were warned: “This isn’t your parents’ Batman,” referring to the campy Adam West television version from the 60’s. Having seen “The Dark Knight,” I think it would be safe to tell fans of Burton’s film the same thing: this isn’t their Batman, but one that’s a lot less gothic, a lot more psychological, and even more violent.

What Christopher Nolan’s movie lacks in production design, it makes up for through intensity. This is one hell of a suspense vehicle, ratcheting up the tension at regular intervals, letting audiences go for a moment, then improbably, raising the stakes even higher. It’s a roller coaster ride that could have been exhausting over the film’s two-hour-plus running time, but thanks to Nolan and co-scripter David Goyer’s emphasis on characters and their relationships, all the plot developments have emotional resonance.

“The Dark Knight” picks up near where “Batman Begins” left off: billionaire heir Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale) is still the self-appointed guardian of Gotham City, slowly chipping away at the criminal underworld through his alter-ego Batman. His only friend on the police force remains Lieutenant Jim Gordon (Gary Oldman); in the District Attorney’s office, it’s Rachel Dawes (Maggie Gyllenhaal, replacing Katie Holmes), his childhood sweetheart who learned his secret identity in the last movie.

A love triangle brews between Wayne, Dawes, and recently-elected District Attorney Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart), who seems sincere about crushing criminals and settling down with Bruce’s old flame. But with all due respect to the romantic aspects of the screenplay, the relationship at the heart of this film is that between Dent, Gordon, and Batman, who hatch a plan together to nail the mob on money laundering charges. Naturally, the first meeting of this crime-fighting trio brims with hope and optimism; unfortunately, things don't go as planned, and the next time they’re all together, it’s to reflect on the toll they’ve suffered in the name of the good fight.

Good and evil seem to be at war in “The Dark Knight,” but maybe it’s more like chaos and order. The main villain is a war paint-wearing, facially-scarred, mentally-off-balanced madman who calls himself the Joker (the late Heath Ledger), a self-described “agent of chaos” for whom there’s no applecart he won’t upset or shove through a sharp object, eye socket first. The filmmakers wisely adhere to his comics’ origin and withhold explaining how he got the way he does. Chaos, after all, needs no motivation; as one character wisely explains, “Some men just want to watch the world burn.”

By contrast, Dent not only represents “law and order,” his life appears built on the idea human will can successfully impose itself on chaos. Even when we think he’s starting to slip up, he’s in total control, “making his own luck,” as he says, seemingly confident of determining his own fate. However, one of the movie’s recurring themes is how short a jump there is between two halves of the same coin: order and chaos, hero and villain, and ultimately, life and death. When order meets chaos head-to-head, the movie argues, even the best of us can lose our way or become walking contradictions -- “two-faced” people.

In some ways, Nolan is a “two-face” himself, dressing up a summer blockbuster into something artier and genuinely disquieting at times. “The Dark Knight” probably features a higher body count than half-a-dozen serial killer movies combined, but despite lots of action sequences, it’s practically anti-violence due to presentation: during particular stretches of carnage, Nolan either cuts off the background music entirely or reduces it to a single, extended note, which somehow makes everything just a little too involving. When there’s nothing distracting you from the sight of the Joker walking down the street, firing a machine gun at anything that moves, that’s when the movie really pulls you out of your orderly viewing experience and puts you in a stranglehold.

Updated 8/3/08: Following the movie’s release, there were numerous articles regarding its supposed politics, with writers claiming references to the Iraq War, suicide bombers, and the Patriot Act. I can kind of see it: in theory, the triumvirate of Batman, Dent, and Lt. Gordon are standing in for the current administration, finding themselves dealing with a firestorm of reprisal after entering a foreign land in the name of justice. Gotham City becomes the battleground, but the problem is enemy soldiers are able to hide themselves in plain sight; for example, the Joker himself – minus his trademark make-up, of course – blends in with a procession of cops during an assassination attempt.

Meanwhile, is that “shock and awe” echoing in Alfred Pennyworth’s (Michael Caine) tale to Bruce Wayne about his past army days, how his unit managed to catch a madman among the natives, only by burning down an entire forest in which he lived? In order to avoid the same, Batman plans to spy on the cell phone calls of Gotham City’s citizenry using a hi-tech computer. One can practically hear him blubbering to Morgan Freeman how this potential breach of civil liberties is, “the only way to stop terror,” in a Texas accent.

The funny thing is the filmmakers seem okay with this encroachment, so long as the ends justify the means (a psycho gets brought down, innocent lives are saved), and there is no abuse of this power. And despite the temptation to keep around such an elaborate spying network – imagine how much easier it would make fighting crime – we assume Batman realizes the ethical implications of such a thing. At the very least, it would reveal a pessimistic view of human nature to rival the Joker and his other enemies. But although we can trust Batman not to abuse such invasive technology, the question the whole subplot seems to raise is: do we feel the same way about the current administration, or does the Dark Knight really symbolize something we don’t have, and are in need of?

Overall rating: **** (out of ****)

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FINE, TOTALLY FINE (2008), dir. Yosuke Fujita

It’s not easy being almost 30, when society expects a person to have their career, be settled down, and to have left behind the immature trappings of youth. Two of the characters in “Fine, Totally Fine” feel the pressure to grow up from family and co-workers, while a third is almost totally adrift, primarily because she has no one who expects anything from her.

The main protagonists of this Japanese-language film include Hisanobu (Okada Yoshinori), a hospital administrator and perpetual nice guy due to his social awkwardness. However, despite looking normal enough on the outside, he leads a double life participating in low-budget horror flicks and elaborate pranks with Teruo (Yoshiyoshi Arakawa), his slacker buddy who enjoys scaring people.

Teruo, who has a round, childlike face, dreams of opening a haunted house someday and ignores accusations he is some kind of degenerate. But whether or not he should be telling little girls how real bears are much scarier than their teddies, he is clearly out of touch with reality; at one point, he expresses surprise when told he only works part-time as a park employee.

With the big “three-oh” on the horizon, Hisanobu begins questioning if they shouldn’t outgrow their anti-social behavior, a thought that offends Teruo. What else do they have to distract themselves with? The answer comes in the form of Akari (Kimura Yoshino), an attractive woman who possesses a clumsiness that makes Inspector Clouseau look like Gene Kelly. Hisanobu, perhaps recognizing a fellow square peg stuck in a round world, hires Akari to work at the hospital, then lands her another job at the bookstore owned by Teruo’s father.

Hilarity doesn’t exactly ensue once all three characters fall into each others’ orbits, but Yosuke, who also wrote the screenplay, peppers “Fine, Totally Fine” with lots of surreal comic moments that pop up when audiences least expect it. One of the best involves Teruo’s repeated attempts to tell a scary story nobody else finds scary. After two lackluster trial runs, the third time Hisanobu explodes from out of nowhere wearing bloody make-up and fangs.

There are also amusing running gags about a film-within-a-film; Akari’s obsession with fish paste sausages, which she carries in her pocket; and her proneness to accidents. Indeed, at one point, a character asks her about an injury she suffered, joking about it in ridiculous fashion, never realizing what he described is exactly what happened to her. (Speaking of Akari, her personal awakening from shy introvert was particularly well-portrayed by Kimura Yoshino, and I can't understand why the press notes singled out her co-star Yoshiyoshi for praise).

Despite the humorous bits, those who walk into “Fine, Totally Fine” expecting an “Amelie”-type film in which oddballs get with their soul mates may leave disappointed. A line of dialogue goes, “Life’s more fun when you’re an idiot,” which references and celebrates Teruo’s goofball antics; however, it also implies existence can be inherently disheartening. This proves true by film’s end, but no matter how bittersweet things get, Yosuke emphasizes the value of good friendships, an upbeat attitude, and delicious fish paste sausages.

Overall rating: ***1/2 (out of ****)

POSTAL (2007), dir. Uwe Boll

POSTAL (2007), dir. Uwe Boll

Thank God for Dave Foley. Praise Allah for him, while you’re at it. At one point in Postal, the character he plays, a New Age cult leader and charlatan who owes over a million dollars to the Internal Revenue Service, responds to something one of his followers says with, “That’s a beautifully… retarded sentiment.”

You get the feeling this moment was improvised, and indeed, Foley spent years refining his deadpan style of delivery on the comedy series The Kids in the Hall. Just putting him in a scene results in off-the-cuff moments that feel genuinely fresh – which is a quality sorely missing from most of Uwe Boll’s would-be comedy.

Now, it may seem unfair to pick on Postal, given it was based on a video game, which rarely results in a memorable film. But according to the press notes, the game only supplied the anarchic plot and ultra-violence; it was Boll who turned it into a spoof of contemporary America touching on everything from politicians and religion to corporat culture eand mass consumerism.

Postal takes place in a mid-western city called Paradise, and revolves around Dude (Zach Ward), a much put-upon everyman who hatches a plan with his Uncle Dave (Foley) to steal a shipment of phallic-shaped “Krotchy” dolls, which are the number one toy this holiday season. Unfortunately, the toys have also been targeted by Islamic terrorists led by Osama bin Laden (Larry Thomas). They plan to use the vials of avian flu smuggled inside the dolls to bring about America’s destruction.

The movie is faithful to its video game roots as far as serving up tasteless violence, which victimizes society’s most defenseless first. Sometimes, the outrageousness and Boll’s attempts at satire meet with decent results, such as a scene inside a welfare office. After a crazed gunmen opens fire on unflinching government workers, Dude ends up crawling from corpse-to-corpse looking for a ticket so he can be next in line.

I also laughed when Boll, one of most maligned filmmakers working today, appeared as himself and confirmed one of his critics’ claims, that his movies are financed with Nazi gold. “We have to do something with all that gold,” he says.

The jokes are delivered rat-a-tat-style along the lines of Airplane. But Postal also wants to be a satire, and on that level, doesn’t succeed. The problem is Boll chooses targets that are just too obvious. Haven’t there been enough films within the past 30 years that argued people living in trailer parks have poor grooming habits, corporations are crazy, Americans love their guns, and the media relishes violence?

Granted, Postal does make a claim that religious followers are either bubble-headed dupes or out for their own selfish rewards, and that may be novel, but I didn’t think the movie did enough with that idea.

Attempting to push the envelope, Boll even has his bin Laden impersonator call up George W. Bush about insurance claims on an oil refinery, but really, how daring is making fun a widely-unpopular president?

Finally, I think Boll missed the boat by not satirizing, of all things, video games themselves. On second thought, given how joyless the action sequences are for those who can only sit by and watch, maybe he does unwittingly take a swipe at this form of entertainment, where the only catharsis is for whoever holds the controller.

Overall rating: * (out of ****)

ROBOT STORIES (2003), dir. Greg Pak

Engages the Mind While Touching the Heart

Like a well-oiled, productive machine, "Robot Stories" offers more in eighty-eight streamlined minutes than most flicks three times as long. It’s a movie that presents ideas, and asks questions, such as: Can a robot serve as a surrogate for a mother’s relationship with her son, or a mother for her baby? Is a computer-generated replicant of a former lover, missing all the flaws that lover had, preferable to the real thing? Can human beings learn to love machines? Do machines need love?

Writer/director Greg Pak asks these questions, among others, in four tales about people and robots. An independent effort, his film isn’t exactly cineplex sci-fi fodder. There are few special effects in "Robot Stories," and the ones it has are more atmospheric than elaborate. But the movie itself looks good for an indie, and there is some wonderful acting that complements an intelligent script.

Plotwise, Pak’s quartet of tales breaks down the following way: An egg-shaped droid serves as a practice run for a childless couple in "My Robot Baby." Ultraman-style toys become a mother’s link to her comatose son in "The Robot Fixer." Corporations can order android employees for all their I.T. needs in the near-future world of "Machine Love." Finally, in the haunting segment "Clay," a dying artist has to decide whether to allow his brain to be preserved forever as a kind of computer program.

Personally, I liked "Machine Love" and "The Robot Fixer" best. What made "Machine Love" resonate most strongly was the contrast between the android (played by Pak himself wearing mannequin-esque make-up), who had very human traits such as curiosity and an ability to learn, and the corporate work environment, which seems about as dehumaned and dehumanizing as anything George Orwell ever thought up.

"The Robot Fixer," meanwhile, features a terrific performance by Wai Ching Ho as a mother whose son lies in a comatose state. She tries to fix up his childhood toys as a means of waking him out of his coma. I might have liked this segment more if the plot hadn’t reminded me of Lars von Triers’ "Breaking the Waves (1996)." But Wai Ching Ho does such good work that if Hollywood ever needs to cast an intelligent, non-stereotypical, middle-aged Asian woman, this movie should put her on several casting directors' short list.

Worst of Pak’s quartet might be “My Robot Baby.” From the opening flashback of domestic upheaval, wherein young Marcia is warned by her mother to “never have children,” we can already guess the direction of the rest of the tale: That grown-up Marcia (Tamlyn Tomita) will be a terrible mother, just like her own maternal model, until the titular robot redeems her. Expect no surprises here.

The last short, “Clay,” could also use further molding. Within its elliptical structure lies a tantalizing idea, that imperfection is synonomous with being human. Also intriguing, however, is the idea that a society could outlaw dying naturally, that is, without undergoing the brain-mapping process. I wish that Pak had explored that sub-plot further. Still, I give him credit for filling his glass at least halfway.

Overall rating: *** (out of ****)