Darik Houseknecht (itbegins2005)

I don't like animated movies. Sure, animation's great for Bugs Bunny and Saturday morning, but I've always felt that feature length cartoons don't really qualify as films, theatrical release or no, because they almost uniformally lack the subtlety and nuance of live-action films- after all, when your only creative limit is what you're able to draw, why bother with something like subtlety? Interestingly, I am also not a fan of Wonder Woman. Unabashed comic junkie and raging geek though I may be Wonder Woman is one of the few major superheroes- besides Aquaman and maybe the Fantastic Four- that just never really appealled to me; her origin is convoluted, her motivations ar hazy, her powers are ill-defined, and her costume (aside from being a bit skimpy for a feninist icon) makes no sense- why would an Amazon dress in red, white, and star-spangled blue? So taking these facts together, one would think that an animated Wonder Woman movie would would have about as much appeal to me as reading the Complete United States Federal Tax Code from cover to cover. One couldn't be more wrong. Wonder Woman, as it turns out, is the best superhero movie I've seen this year, with a script as solid as bedrock and a cast that can actually do good voice-work (I can't tell you how many dramatic animated features I've seen have just been killed by poor casting). The direction in particular appeals to me: unlike many other animated films, this is a movie that allows the story to unfold at a natural pace, taking the time for character moments and dramatic beats without going too far in the other direction- that is, building huge, minute-burning pauses where the characters just stare each other down or grunt (GOD, I hate Dragonball Z!). Refreshingly, the movie also doesn't seem overly censored- in fact, the violence on display is somewhat shocking for an animated feature, with stabbings, beheadings, broken necks, and plenty of bloodshed on hand (even if the swords never get any blood on them). Overall, the movie is like an intriguing cross between Superman and 300 with strong (but thankfully not overpowering) feminist overtones; it is a deftly crafted origin story that draws you quickly and completely into the character whom I once found shallow and uninteresting. The story opens in ancient Greece, during a fierce battle between an army of men and mythical beasts and a clan of Amazonian women. Their leader, Queen Hippolyta, bests the army's commander- Ares, the God of War himself- in combat, but before the final blow can be stricken, her hand is stayed by Ares' father, Zeus. While Hippolyta is furious that she cannot avenge the deaths of her people, she is granted instead a reward by the goddess Athena: an island paradise, Themiscyra, hidden from the world of man, where she and the Amazons construct a utopia free from the ravages of time and the deceit of mankind. There, she is granted another blessing- a child, fashioned from clay and given life by the gods, whom Hippolyta names Diana. Flash-forward a few millenia to the present day, when Air Force pilot Steve Trevor is shot down over the middle of the ocean and accidentally crash-lands on Themiscyra, where she is captured by the Amazons, including the now-grown Diana. Deciding that the best course of action would be to to return the pilot to his home, the Amazons hold a contest to determine who will be their emissary to "Man's World", and despite her mothers attempts to bar her from competing, Diana enters and emerges the victor. Unfortunately, as the contest is held, an Amazon turns traitor and unleashes the shackled god Ares from his prison on the island. Now Diana must find the God of War and stop him from bringing forth a plague of misery and death upon Man's World. (more to come)

What is Eraserhead? Where did it come from? What does it mean? What madman could have created it? These utterly understandable questions are the first thing that entered my head right AFTER watching Eraserhead for the first time, at the tender age of eighteen. I had seen the mysterious black-and-white box leering at me from video store shelves since behore I could remember, and I decided to put a story to the face- so often, the mystique of a classic book can be dissipated when you actually read it, and so far it'd been the same with movies for me too. Not anymore. This movie just refused to be understood in a conventional sense, defying all attempts at explanation or examination, and it bothered the hell out of me. Years have passed since that first unsatisfying viewing, however, and I like to think that my tastes have matured since then (my knowledge and appreciation of film have, at least); so I decided to give Eraserhead one more shot. I'm glad I did, because Eraserhead is a movie that kind of grows on you; the second time through I was struck by the dream-like quality the whole thing had, how it is nearly impossible to tell someone what HAPPENS in the film as you're struck by the feelings and apprehensions it engenders in you without a definable, concrete story. (more to come)

This is the movie I have been waiting for since I first became a devoted film fanatic. It takes a perfect distillation of everything I love about truly great cinema (e.g. "the classics"- Godfather, A Clockwork Orange, Silence of the Lambs, etc.)- the depth of emotion, the layered plot, the thematic consistency, the dramatic intensity (ESPECIALLY the dramatic intensity)- and seamlessly fuses with it my favorite genre character of all time: the Batman. The result is the first film based on a superhero that takes itself 100% seriously, never condescending the integrity of its own premise and, in the process, creating a brilliant work of action, drama, and suspense, a crime thriller that just happens to center around a hero in a cape and cowl. As a viewing experience, it's a white-knuckle affair; there is really nothing to prepare you for how powerful this film is, from the shocking intensity of the violence to the dark tragedy of the characters. It's a film that wrings you out, keeping you breathing hard and bolted to your seat, and finally leaving you emotionally drained and, bizarrely, wishing for more. Picking up shortly after Batman Begins left off, we find Bruce Wayne diligently working to bring down the mob as the Batman, joining forces with Lieutenant James Gordon and the newly-elected District Attorney Harvey Dent to stop organized crime in Gotham City for good. Everything seems to be going to plan, until a recent rash of mafia-bank robberies brings to the attention of the mob a criminal called the Joker, a madman slathered in clown make-up who offers to rid them of the Batman once and for all. Suddenly, no one in Gotham is safe, and as the Joker's chaotic rampage through the city racks up more and more victims, Batman finds himself struggling with the moral code he's set for himself in the light of the Joker's limitless cruelty. For his second go-round as the Dark Knight, Christian Bale has got his character down pat, from the vapid playboy facade (that creates some of the lighter points of the movie) to the dark, gravelly-voiced creature that is Batman (who gets much more screen time than Wayne does, actually); but as the real Wayne, who so few are privileged to see, Bruce is deeply conflicted about his double life, torn between the desire to leave it all behind (an opportunity presented by the rising star D.A. Dent) and his need to fulfill his self-appointed mission. Things become even more complicated when the Joker turns his double identity against him, shifting public opinion against the Dark Knight and trying to force him into turning himself in. Working with Batman this time is Harvey Dent, as played by Aaron Eckhart- a public crusader for justice who personifies the hope for a better future in Gotham City. Harvey is a truly good, decent man, trying his best to do the right thing in the mire of corruption and politics, but unfortunately he still is just a man, and every man has a breaking point; Dent goes through a major character arc through the course of the film, one that twists his ideals against themselves and transforms him into a tragic, all-too-plausible monster, and Eckhart plays the descent into darkness phenomenally. The third man of our trio of heroes in this film is Gary Oldman, back for round two as Lieutenant James Gordon. This time, his skills as an actor are put to much better use, as Gordon has much more to do here than before: he is a father, a friend, a cop, and a man of action in this film, and especially near the end his character is put through the wringer, but Oldman delivers like he always does. And then, there's the Joker. There really aren't enough good things I can say about the late Heath Ledger's turn as the Clown Prince of Crime- he IS the Joker. He manages to craft a completely unpredictable character, one that is both amazingly scary and surprisingly funny at the same time (as perfectly captured early on in the film: "How about a magic trick?"). A self-described engine of chaos, everything about him is chaotic, from his often violent actions and statements (he describes several different scenarios for how he acquired his scars, investing himself intensely into each one) to his facial tics and mannerisms; Ledger disappears completely into the role, so much so that it's hard to connect the tragedy of Ledger's death to the character when you're actually watching him (which is both a great relief for the audience and a hell of a compliment to his performance, when you think about it). Even though he has the least screen time of all the principal leads, his presence looms over the entirety of the film (kind of like Thomas Wayne's in Batman Begins, but much more potently), creating a disorienting sense that absolutely ANYONE can die at any moment. As for the rest of the cast, they are all expanded upon from the previous film, and they are ALL fantastic: Michael Caine's Alfred has the unenviable task of keeping Bruce's spirit intact through the pain he's subjected to, Morgan Freeman's Lucias Fox faces up to an ethical dilemma of his own when Batman's quest to fight crime pushes past the boundaries of basic human rights, and Maggie Gyllenhaal, infinitely more pleasant as Rachel Dawes than Katie Holmes was, is stuck in a love triangle between childhood friend Bruce and the handsome, likable Dent. The script is tight and powerful, despite the film's long run time; there is not a single scene that could have been left out, and the intricate plot that's constructed is incredibly elaborate, thematically rich, and deeply engrossing. The character work and dialogue is fantastic: the dramatic highlight of the film would probably have to be the interrogation room scene between Batman and the Joker, in which we learn a lot about the Joker's twisted ideology and his perceived connection with Batman. The action this time around is astonishing, too; Christopher Nolan, apparently tired of complaints about the shooting style of the fight sequences in Batman Begins, now shoots simple, straightforward angles of the energetically choreographed clashes, making them much more effective. The stunt work and effects are blazingly good, keeping C.G. use to a minimum to maintain maximum believability (they flipped a semi truck. For real. Even seeing it in the trailer doesn't diminish the awe inspired by that moment). The cinematography trades the golden hues of Begins for colder blue tones, which creates a bleak landscape for our heroes to fight in; the music, by Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard, is electrifying, conjuring the twisted darkness of the Joker while holding true to the heroism of Batman and Dent. All around, the Dark Knight is a quantum leap forward from its predecessor (described aptly by some as the Godfather II of superhero films); Christopher Nolan has really stepped up his game with this one, creating for the first time a rich, deeply layered cinematic experience that centers around a superhero, albeit one that's as flawed and human as any other film protagonist. This is the first superhero film that could rightly be categorized as an achievement in film as an art form, and not simply a commercial venture, and I hope that it gets the recognition that it deserves. Frankly, my only real concern is with how Nolan is going to top it, especially without Ledger around to conjure his magically sinister Clown Prince of Crime anymore (there is no way they can recast that role), but even if this were to be the last Batman film ever produced, I think it would be a hell of a good way to go out. Ultimately, this movie is everything I've ever wanted in a film- it's as simple as that. "Why so serious?"

Not quite a horror movie. Not quite an action movie. Not quite a comedy. Just what is Evil Dead 2, anyway? To put it simply: awesome. Evil Dead 2 is an exercise in style, slapstick, and over-the-top, almost cartoonish violence. Not pretentious in the least, Evil Dead 2 embraces its status as low-budget schlock and, as a result, has a great time going as far out as it possibly can in terms of effects, camera movements, and lighting. While the first film was almost a wrote execution of the "Ten Little Indians" formula (with only five Indians, at that), Evil Dead 2 eschews any attempt at horror with comic hyperbole and, in the latter portion of the film, pure pulp action, typified by our chainsaw-wielding hero, Ash. Bruce Campbell as Ash is the Charlie Brown of horror films- all the shit in the world lands squarely on his shoulders, and you can't help but laugh at his misery. Between the pansy preppy-boy from Evil Dead and the square-jawed he-man of Army Of Darkness, Ash actually has a character arc in this film (!)- though it's obvious in the viewing that character is the last thing on director Sam Raimi's mind. Instead, it's all about pushing the envelope, both in terms of tone and technique. When does horror become comedy? And more importantly, just how much crap can happen to one guy in only two days? As far as acting goes, the performances from everyone involved are so far from believable that just watching them say their lines is hilarious, and yes, that includes Bruce Campbell. Sam Raimi takes center stage in this movie instead, as the film is loaded with camera work that would prove to be the director's trademark. The evil force camera POV returns in a chase scene that just gets better every time I watch it, and Raimi seems to get his kicks from composing the most extreme shots that he can imagine. Lacking almost anything resembling a plot, the movie is more along the lines of a series of sketches set in a cabin, but that only adds to the deliriously disjointed nature of the film. In fact, most of the movie's appeal comes from the main character, who, like the audience, constantly struggles to get his bearings while being bombarded by one freakish thing after another; besides, it's a nice change of pace to see a horror film in which the hero is cooler than the villain. In truth, it's merits can't justly be put into words; Evil Dead 2 is an experience, an experiment with the limits of good humor and taste, and you will either like it right off or hate it immediately. Either way, you'll only know it if you see it.