Since it is doubtful I will ever get around to write a proper recount of this month’s cultural outings, here are a couple random thoughts instead:

• Despite my impression of the past few years that Japanese cinema was losing ground to more daring, less formulaic Korean filmmakers such as Park Chan-wook, Japanese movies were particularly well represented at the Berlinale and fared pretty well.
• Of the three screening we attended, Korean movie Ki-chin was definitely the weakest: beautiful photography, unfortunately undermined by a contrived plot and the least engaging depictions of food I have ever seen in a food-oriented movie (not to mention terminally inept subtitling work, which made it difficult to follow even basic dialogues).
• Yoji Yamada’s films were of a much higher grade. Friday’s première screening of Kyoto Uzumasa Monogatari was a nice prelude to the more involved Ototo, on Sunday. Both had a rather typical Japanese vibe of quiet everyday life events mixed with deeper topics that never take themselves too seriously. Still not convinced about the Japanese conception of slapstick physical humour as the height of comic relief, but overall good movies.
• Thanks to Berlin’s opulence in Opera venues, we obtained last minute tickets for a representation of my all-time favourite (my undying love of Verdi’s works, over any Bellini, Wagner or even Mozart, is a clear reflection of my mundane operatic tastes, sure, but I stand by it).
• Musical happiness.
• Small aside: people who can’t help loudly coughing, right in the middle of Violetta’s dying aria, deserve to be put to a slow and painful death. I don’t care how much your throat itches: put a lid on it or stay home. And while we are at it: do not clap at the end of every single fucking scene. Keep it limited to the overture, the end of each act and at most a few noteworthy arias and find something else to keep your hands and cerebral-motor cortex busy.

On the program for this month, we have so far: two operas, three official Berlinale screenings, two music recitals and a couple exhibits.

Sometimes I do work too.

Now you know why updates are scarce around here…

The Cove is not gonna make Japan many friends among the world’s dolphin and whale lovers, but it is definitely worth a watch.

Although it could probably go lighter on the whole Mission: Impossible antics (unfortunately, it seems you just can’t sell a documentary nowadays if it doesn’t feature endless gratuitous action montages), the scenes it captures are captivating and hard to ignore. Beyond the expected money shot of an expanse of ocean literally red with dolphin blood, the investigative work offers some fascinating insights into the cynical political maneuvering that goes on to ensure the fishing doesn’t stop.

The vast farce that is the International Whaling Commission and a long tradition of Japan’s bribing third world island countries for votes, gets the bashing it deserves: I don’t care what your opinions on the whaling issue are, if you seriously believe in the “scientific whaling” argument, you are very misinformed or a moron.

Casual observers of Japanese modern history do not need to be told of its infamous propensity to always side with industries against public welfare, when environmental or public health scandals strike. Others will probably think that the recount of Minamata disease’s infamous cover-up is exaggerated… After all, while Western countries routinely poison locals in remote third-world countries and get away with it, it is quite a rare thing for a country to let companies do it on its own soil and unfalteringly support them when things go awry (and long after that). Long-time residents will also enjoy the nod to Japan’s sub-par criminal justice system, delight in spotting the usual cast of Japanese administration characters (the blatantly corrupt – yet utterly polite – cop on local business’ payroll, the roboticized bureaucratic talking-head, the government “scientist” spouting pseudo-science etc. etc.), without, unfortunately, escaping the usual trite clichés (is there a single japanese story that cannot be illustrated with a nail and a hammer?).

This documentary is not without its faults and I honestly have my doubt about the efficiency of the “Us vs. Them” brand of activism, when confronted to Japanese culture. But regardless of which side of the Blubber Hamburger / Cute Smiling Cetacean debate you stand on, there are a couple items worth pondering in there.

What you didn’t realise is that they had guns. Big, long, dangerous, machine-guns, with war criminals attached to the trigger.RocknRolla

Sure, at its essence, it’s still the same formulaic tale of London’s seedy underbelly and its colourful gangsters, but it also brings on a whole new range of kickassery, along with a perfect blend of wits, music and photography not seen since Lock, Stock etc.

Not that I have anything against French cinema in general, but even I am getting tired of seeing thirty-something couples endlessly strolling through picturesque Parisian streets or sitting at cafés, absorbed in pseudo-intellectual discussions of their latest hormonal release…

And if I hear one more piano piece by Satie or a Bach partita in a film, I shall scream.

Watching some old Kurosawa and realising that I understand the female characters’ dainty Japanese expressions ten times better than Toshirō Mifune’s manly man samurai-talk…

(as the movie we’ve been watching together is rolling its credits…)

Her: [Looks up suggestively and moves hand across bed]

Me: You do realize this is quite possibly the worst pre-coital movie. ever?

Her: [Keeps silent and smiles a wicked toothy smile]

Me: That’s it! stay the hell away from me!!! I’m sleeping on the floor tonight.

(awesome movie, otherwise)

A tightly-packed ball of childhood holiday nostalgia just for you…

(more…)

Eight and a half women is probably an even stranger movie. Slightly less awesome, though.

Eight & a half definitely is a strange movie.

A couple weeks ago, I was buried up to my armpits in Game Theory (nothing to do with Quake or World of Warcraft, trust me), Decision Theory, Cryptology and a dozen other fascinating topics. After a couple days non-stop writing/reading/studying/coding on those topics, I felt I really needed a two-hour break. Yet, feeling guilty about leaving my books for a minute, I compromised by downloading renting that award-winning movie about John Nash. I figured if I was not studying, at least watching a biopic on one of the pioneer in the field of Game Theory wouldn’t be straying too far off.

As it turns out, the movie is not as bad as I’d expected (which is not to say it is any good). Russel Crowe is as convincing as you would imagine a hunky Australian actor playing a nerdy US mathematician to be. All along, you half-expect Crowe to draw a gladius and slice open his mathematical studies nemesis. Instead, you see him mumbling and x-ray-visioning his way into mathematical stardom and bona-fide paranoid schizophrenia.

(more…)

I took from my five remaining daily hours of sleep schedule to go watch Shortbus last Sunday.

I know it’s been released a few eons ago in other parts of the civilized world and that, by now, everybody has either seen it or think John Cameron Mitchell is the antichrist (or both)… Yet I felt I should add to the general consensus (met amidst people of taste):

This is one brilliant, thoroughly enjoyable movie.

Definitely not a family movie, and you might not want to take a date there without checking out before… But otherwise: best way to spend ten bucks with your clothes on, these days.

I’m not sure if anything can still be done for the reputation of this blog, seeing how the past 24 hours have seen an unusually high amount of somewhat sensible, even possibly useful information put here. Frankly, I don’t know if my blogger’s ethics will ever recover.

I will try nonetheless.

Wars of the Geeks is officially over, silly inconsequent navel-gazing is now back for the month.

Let’s start by what should have been yesterday’s sum up of how to succeed at cooking an enjoyable Summer evening with friends. It goes a little something like this:

[steps sideways, does two entrechats and starts singing while tap-dancing to the beat]

• Some second-hand equipment purchased for a fistful of euros on the outer rim of the Internets.
• Cranberry juice + vodka + a splash of lemon juice + a dash of cointreau + a few wedges of lime + loads of ice, times a few gallons.
• One lovably demented masterpiece of a Japanese movie recommended by S. a while back.
• People (also: other people without blogs, but likeable nonetheless).

Shake but do not stir, serve fresh with cocktail straws.

Such a fabulous evening that our little Cinéma de quartier might very well be on its way to become a regular bi-monthly.

Then there also was yesterday’s recipe: another kind of enjoyable dish. Though it’s made of much harder-to-find of ingredients and I am not even quite sure I remember myself how the cooking process went.

If you absolutely want to try at home, I think it involved a bottle of contraband Absinth, eye-burning Japanese menthol eye drops, one of the most furious thunderstorm of the Summer and lots of Parisian girls running by in the street, wearing but thin blouses soaking wet from the sudden rain.

Also what appears to be a medium-sized rodent stuck to my living room table in a puddle of melted wax and solidifying liquor. But I will only be able to confirm that when I finish removing the few dozens glasses and beer bottles stacked over it.

It’s official now:

Years after losing its Will-pay-$8-for-it status, falling more recently from Maybe-if-it’s-on-discount-at-Blockbluster’s to Might-download-it-one-day, the James Bond franchise is now being downgraded to If-the-only-other-inflight-movie-has-got-Adam-Sandler-in-it status. Ranking any lower than that involves the use of torture or massive amounts of psychoactive substances as a mandatory condition for viewing.

Let me list a few of the reasons, per my recent viewing of the latest two-hour long necrophiliac gang-bang over Ian Flemming’s corpse to date:

• Perennial intro sequence. Appears Bond… riding the wave… on. a. surfboard. Do I need to go through the foot-long list of why this is wrong on so many levels? I can only expect the next movie will see him shooting villains from his skateboard in between two half-pipes.
• A few random series of explosions later, we get treated to, without a doubt, the worst massacre of a James Bond theme ever. Sung by a vocoder loosely assisted by Madonna’s flailing vocal cords, this song makes Tina Turner’s sub-Shirley Bassey performance a work of art by comparison.
• By then, the average viewer already wants to take his eyes out with a dull spoon. Mind you the movie hasn’t even begun yet.
• It is still unclear whether Madonna’s useless cameo, a few scenes later, was payment or retribution for her earlier vocal pummeling. Either way, she once again proves her uncanny ability to destroy celluloid and ruin scenes with a mere few seconds of her appearance on screen. I guess we should only be thankful the producers talked her out of doing the embarrassingly fake British accent she has instead been serving journalists ever since.
• On the stilted acting front, the battle is fierce, Halle Berry wins, but only by a thin margin.
• Concluding the paroxystic fight of your movie by any variation on the “die, bitch!” theme, uttered by the plucky hero/heroin, is OK. In the fucking 80’s.
• Even accounting for mandatory Evil Genius’ Factor of Unexplainable Stupidity (e.g.: spending 3 hours explaining one’s evil plot instead of just shooting the hero), tell me exactly why would one ever name his Grand Evil Project after the most widely known tale of Rise and Fall in recorded History? Was “Project Miserable Failure” already taken?
• The naming and oh-so-unexpected failure of the Project, along with its 3-mile wide blinking billboard of a metaphor, should give an idea as to the level of subtlety injected in the story altogether.
• Another two or three episodes and the next movie in the franchise will be released as a mere adaptation of the eponymous videogame. Oh wait, it already is.

In other news, word is that the doomsday machine in next episode will be powered by the corpse of Ian Flemming, rotating at supersonic speed inside his grave.

If you are looking for a heart-warming family-oriented feel-good movie to watch this week-end: 血と骨 is most definitely not it.