This hot off the press, or, rather, a youtube interview: Quentin Tarantino announces he has plans to make a sequel to Kill Bill that takes place ten years after the events of the first film. I'm just not sure how to feel about this. You may or may not know my feelings about the original film, so I'll give you a hint: it starts with an L and ends with an O-V-E. It's hard to pass up a chance to see The Bride in action again. On the other hand, Kill Bill is such a complete-feeling work that I can't imagine how a sequel will add to it. The smart money says that the plot will concern Vernita Green's daughter, Nikki, seeking revenge on The Bride. Not a bad guess, I'd say. I'd also be willing to bet that we haven't seen the Last of Elle Driver, either.
What do you think? Should Tarantino make the first sequel of his career? Is Kill Bill worth rehashing in the first place?
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Your Slice of Movie Zen for the Day
"All the clouds are cumuloft
walking in space
Oh my God, your skin is soft
I love your face
How dare they try to end this beauty?
How dare this beauty?
To keep us under foot
they bury us in soot
pretending it's a chore
to ship us off to war
in this dark we rediscover sensation
in this dark we rediscover sensation"
walking in space
Oh my God, your skin is soft
I love your face
How dare they try to end this beauty?
How dare this beauty?
To keep us under foot
they bury us in soot
pretending it's a chore
to ship us off to war
in this dark we rediscover sensation
in this dark we rediscover sensation"
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Your Slice of Zen for the Day
"His funeral! Imagine it, the cathedral, all Vienna sitting there, his coffin, Mozart's little coffin in the middle, and then, in that silence, music! A divine music bursts over them all. A great mass of death! Requiem mass for Wolfgang Mozart, composed by his devoted friend, Antonio Salieri! Oh, what sublimity, what depth, what passion in the music! Salieri has been touched by God at last. And God is forced to listen! Powerless, powerless to stop it! I, for once in the end, laughing at him! The only thing that worried me was the actual killing. How does one do that? Hmmmm? How does one kill a man? It's one thing to dream about it, very different when, when you, when you have to do it with your own hands."
Friday, October 2, 2009
Top 10 Lead Actors of the New Millenium
I have a problem. A compulsion. An abnormal preoccupation.
With listmaking.
Luckily for me, blogging is one of the very few situations in which compulsive listmaking isn't a bad habit: it's par for the course. So, in the first of many, many lists to come, I'm profiling what I consider to be the ten best performances by a lead actor from the new millenium. Please note that this disqualifies any actors that I categorize as Supporting (i.e. please don't ask me why Heath Ledger's Joker isn't on this list. That's a different list, which I'm sure he'll be on in the future). Without further ado...
10. Brad Pitt-The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (2007)
Pitt's performance as Jesse James is a laser-focused character study of a man too big for his world. The Assassination... throws Jesse James into a world of half-wits and cowards, while giving him oceans of depth and nuance. Pitt doesn't shy away from the darker sides of his character: he stares into the abyss, and lets the emptiness he sees reflect in his eyes. The assassination scene is pure perfection: watch how Jesse surely knows what's about to happen, but allows his morbid curiousity to get the better of him. Really relevatory work here, and a complete travesty that the Academy didn't recognize it.
9. Jamie Bell-Billy Elliot (2000)
Every time I see this film, I'm both stunned and more than a little annoyed that a twelve year old from northern England is more talented than I'll ever be. Jamie Bell's debut performance is a knockout: he effortlessly captures the difficulties of growing up in his environment, the emotional minefield of discovering that his best (male) friend has feelings for him, and the sheer joy of doing what he loves, regardless of what the people around him think. Most people would cite the scene in which Billy recites his mother's letter, or perhaps the confrontation with Mrs. Wilkes in the changing room, as the standout acting sequence. For me, however, the award goes to saying goodbye to his brother on the bus, made all the more poignant, and difficult to act, by the fact that we can't hear what he's saying. All the audience gets is a facial expression, and a couple gestures, but it'll tear your heart out. Another fine performance that the Academy refused to acknowledge.
8. Daniel Day-Lewis-Gangs of New York (2002)
I love Daniel Day-Lewis so much it hurts sometimes. He's inarguably the best part of this admittedly flawed film. Lewis takes a character that could easily have been cliche (the heartless villian upon whom the hero seeks revenge), and turns it into one of the most memorable screen characters of the year. Bill the Butcher is a monster, but a very polite one. He brings Hannibal Lecter to mind: he's worth his weight in gold at a dinner party, as long as he decides to let you live. Bill speaks with such bizarre yet fitting diction, spinning every line into something memorable. And the physical acting quirks: his posturing, the way he taps on his glass eye with a knife. Effective stuff.
7. Jack Nicholson-About Schmidt (2002)
I love this performance for being exactly what it is: an exhibition of Jack Nicholson not doing the "Crazy Jack" persona that has brought him so much success. Nicholson's Schmidt is quiet, restrained, and bitter. He's opinionated, but bottles everything up. Just starting retirement, he begins to realize how trivial his life has been, and when his wife dies, he begins to fully comprehend his mortality. What a beautifully touching performance. Watching it, you can feel the weight of the ages on his shoulders, and you can see how inadequately equipped he is to deal with the issues he's facing. The last scene, in which he recieves a simple letter of thanks from the African child he sponsors, is a doozy.
6. Johnny Depp-Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl (2003)
After the unadulterated mess of the two Pirates sequels, it's easy to forget how blazingly original Jack Sparrow is. Reviewing the original film, however, it's hard not to stand in awe of Depp's sheer audacity. Nothing in the script suggests Sparrow's goofiness: his gambol that would make the Ministry of Silly Walks proud, the way his eyes bug out of his head, the way his tongue seems to be at odds with the rest of his face. Jack Sparrow is a masterwork of physical comedy. Every choice Depp makes is absolutely ludicrous, but somehow, inexplicably, works perfectly.
5. Bill Murray-Lost in Translation (2003)
Now the complete opposite end of the spectrum. Murray's performance is perfect for how much he doesn't do: Bob Harris could be the funniest man in the room, he could hog the spotlight, but instead, he just sits at the bar. It's astounding to see a man such as Harris in the middle of a mid-life crisis: every second, his funnyman persona is clashing with his emotional pain. The key to Murray's performance is that he rarely lets it show: Harris is a man doing his best not to let the world see that he's not happy. It's a beautiful exercise in restraint, and it plays wonderfully.
4. Heath Ledger-Brokeback Mountain (2005)
Allegedly, director Ang Lee told Ledger to play Ennis Del Mar "like a clenched fist," and that's exactly how it looks. Ennis' inner turmoil and torture is almost too much for words, but he'll be damned if that's going to show. Ledger plays Ennis as a man who struggles to embody his vision of masculinity at every moment, even as he struggles with his sexuality. This, on its own, is an achievement. What moves the performance into virtuoso territory is when Ennis lets his guard down. The moments of tenderness that he shows Jack are absolutely heart-rending. The scene involving the shirt (I'm avoiding spoilers: if you've seen the movie, you know exactly what I mean), is unbearably painful, and Ledger sells it without a word.
3. Phillip Seymour Hoffman-Capote (2005)
Most people won't agree with me here, but I have to rank Hoffman's performance just above Ledger's. That could well change with time--they're neck-and-neck. But, for now, my vote goes to Hoffman: his portrayal of Capote is spot on: the tics, the high, lisping voice, the man who does his best to appear comfortable inside his own skin. Then, he takes this fantastic impersonation and deepens it, lets Capote's emotions fester, until he lies in a hotel bed, paralyzed by his own shortcomings. His performance makes you feel like you're right in the room with him, and the way his voice breaks before the execution. I don't know about you, but I was simply dumbfounded.
2. Sean Penn-Mystic River (2003)
This entire film plays like a masterclass acting workshop, but Penn's performance is the standout of an incredibly impressive ensemble. Penn's Jimmy Markum is, above everything else, flawed. Penn portrays him as a man incapable of dealing with the emotions he's going through. Markum is a caged animal who has been tortured for too long: the only thing he knows well is pain and violence, and he inflicts those upon the people around him. Penn (literally) throws himself into this role: the physicality he displays when he finds out that his daughter has been murdered is astounding.
1. Daniel Day-Lewis-There Will Be Blood (2007)
There could only be one top spot, and if I didn't give it to Daniel Plainview, he would drink my milkshake right up. And I don't want that. There's not much that I can say about this performance that hasn't already been said. It's complete and utter perfection. Daniel Day-Lewis' achievement is to lose himself completely in the character, even beyond normal standards. The only thing more impressive than his acting is that he didn't irrevocably transform himself into this character. Daniel Plainview is just as present and valid as a real person, and that's the best tribute that I can give.
Thoughts? Opinions? Who did I leave out? Who should be higher? Let me know.
With listmaking.
Luckily for me, blogging is one of the very few situations in which compulsive listmaking isn't a bad habit: it's par for the course. So, in the first of many, many lists to come, I'm profiling what I consider to be the ten best performances by a lead actor from the new millenium. Please note that this disqualifies any actors that I categorize as Supporting (i.e. please don't ask me why Heath Ledger's Joker isn't on this list. That's a different list, which I'm sure he'll be on in the future). Without further ado...
10. Brad Pitt-The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (2007)
Pitt's performance as Jesse James is a laser-focused character study of a man too big for his world. The Assassination... throws Jesse James into a world of half-wits and cowards, while giving him oceans of depth and nuance. Pitt doesn't shy away from the darker sides of his character: he stares into the abyss, and lets the emptiness he sees reflect in his eyes. The assassination scene is pure perfection: watch how Jesse surely knows what's about to happen, but allows his morbid curiousity to get the better of him. Really relevatory work here, and a complete travesty that the Academy didn't recognize it.
9. Jamie Bell-Billy Elliot (2000)
Every time I see this film, I'm both stunned and more than a little annoyed that a twelve year old from northern England is more talented than I'll ever be. Jamie Bell's debut performance is a knockout: he effortlessly captures the difficulties of growing up in his environment, the emotional minefield of discovering that his best (male) friend has feelings for him, and the sheer joy of doing what he loves, regardless of what the people around him think. Most people would cite the scene in which Billy recites his mother's letter, or perhaps the confrontation with Mrs. Wilkes in the changing room, as the standout acting sequence. For me, however, the award goes to saying goodbye to his brother on the bus, made all the more poignant, and difficult to act, by the fact that we can't hear what he's saying. All the audience gets is a facial expression, and a couple gestures, but it'll tear your heart out. Another fine performance that the Academy refused to acknowledge.
8. Daniel Day-Lewis-Gangs of New York (2002)
I love Daniel Day-Lewis so much it hurts sometimes. He's inarguably the best part of this admittedly flawed film. Lewis takes a character that could easily have been cliche (the heartless villian upon whom the hero seeks revenge), and turns it into one of the most memorable screen characters of the year. Bill the Butcher is a monster, but a very polite one. He brings Hannibal Lecter to mind: he's worth his weight in gold at a dinner party, as long as he decides to let you live. Bill speaks with such bizarre yet fitting diction, spinning every line into something memorable. And the physical acting quirks: his posturing, the way he taps on his glass eye with a knife. Effective stuff.
7. Jack Nicholson-About Schmidt (2002)
I love this performance for being exactly what it is: an exhibition of Jack Nicholson not doing the "Crazy Jack" persona that has brought him so much success. Nicholson's Schmidt is quiet, restrained, and bitter. He's opinionated, but bottles everything up. Just starting retirement, he begins to realize how trivial his life has been, and when his wife dies, he begins to fully comprehend his mortality. What a beautifully touching performance. Watching it, you can feel the weight of the ages on his shoulders, and you can see how inadequately equipped he is to deal with the issues he's facing. The last scene, in which he recieves a simple letter of thanks from the African child he sponsors, is a doozy.
6. Johnny Depp-Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl (2003)
After the unadulterated mess of the two Pirates sequels, it's easy to forget how blazingly original Jack Sparrow is. Reviewing the original film, however, it's hard not to stand in awe of Depp's sheer audacity. Nothing in the script suggests Sparrow's goofiness: his gambol that would make the Ministry of Silly Walks proud, the way his eyes bug out of his head, the way his tongue seems to be at odds with the rest of his face. Jack Sparrow is a masterwork of physical comedy. Every choice Depp makes is absolutely ludicrous, but somehow, inexplicably, works perfectly.
5. Bill Murray-Lost in Translation (2003)
Now the complete opposite end of the spectrum. Murray's performance is perfect for how much he doesn't do: Bob Harris could be the funniest man in the room, he could hog the spotlight, but instead, he just sits at the bar. It's astounding to see a man such as Harris in the middle of a mid-life crisis: every second, his funnyman persona is clashing with his emotional pain. The key to Murray's performance is that he rarely lets it show: Harris is a man doing his best not to let the world see that he's not happy. It's a beautiful exercise in restraint, and it plays wonderfully.
4. Heath Ledger-Brokeback Mountain (2005)
Allegedly, director Ang Lee told Ledger to play Ennis Del Mar "like a clenched fist," and that's exactly how it looks. Ennis' inner turmoil and torture is almost too much for words, but he'll be damned if that's going to show. Ledger plays Ennis as a man who struggles to embody his vision of masculinity at every moment, even as he struggles with his sexuality. This, on its own, is an achievement. What moves the performance into virtuoso territory is when Ennis lets his guard down. The moments of tenderness that he shows Jack are absolutely heart-rending. The scene involving the shirt (I'm avoiding spoilers: if you've seen the movie, you know exactly what I mean), is unbearably painful, and Ledger sells it without a word.
3. Phillip Seymour Hoffman-Capote (2005)
Most people won't agree with me here, but I have to rank Hoffman's performance just above Ledger's. That could well change with time--they're neck-and-neck. But, for now, my vote goes to Hoffman: his portrayal of Capote is spot on: the tics, the high, lisping voice, the man who does his best to appear comfortable inside his own skin. Then, he takes this fantastic impersonation and deepens it, lets Capote's emotions fester, until he lies in a hotel bed, paralyzed by his own shortcomings. His performance makes you feel like you're right in the room with him, and the way his voice breaks before the execution. I don't know about you, but I was simply dumbfounded.
2. Sean Penn-Mystic River (2003)
This entire film plays like a masterclass acting workshop, but Penn's performance is the standout of an incredibly impressive ensemble. Penn's Jimmy Markum is, above everything else, flawed. Penn portrays him as a man incapable of dealing with the emotions he's going through. Markum is a caged animal who has been tortured for too long: the only thing he knows well is pain and violence, and he inflicts those upon the people around him. Penn (literally) throws himself into this role: the physicality he displays when he finds out that his daughter has been murdered is astounding.
1. Daniel Day-Lewis-There Will Be Blood (2007)
There could only be one top spot, and if I didn't give it to Daniel Plainview, he would drink my milkshake right up. And I don't want that. There's not much that I can say about this performance that hasn't already been said. It's complete and utter perfection. Daniel Day-Lewis' achievement is to lose himself completely in the character, even beyond normal standards. The only thing more impressive than his acting is that he didn't irrevocably transform himself into this character. Daniel Plainview is just as present and valid as a real person, and that's the best tribute that I can give.
Thoughts? Opinions? Who did I leave out? Who should be higher? Let me know.
Movie Zen of the Day
"Y'know that ringing in your ears? That 'eeeeeeeeeee'? That's the sound of your ear cells dying, like their swan song. Once it's gone, you'll never hear that frequency again. Enjoy it while it lasts."
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Overlooked Movies: A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints
In this series, I'd like to shine a light on some fine pieces of work that, for whatever reason, never got the recognition they deserved.
A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints-Dito Montiel (2006)
I'm so upset with Dito Montiel. A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints, his debut, feels like bottled lightning, like some perverse combination of Martin Scorsese and Robert Altman. It feels like something daring, original, and completely unique. That this was only his first movie only further solidified my high expectations for him as a new voice in the Hollywood pantheon.
And then he went and made Fighting.
Regardless of his post-Saints career, his first film stands as a raw, searing portrait of love and loyalty. Montiel's film jumps nimbly through time, following a teenage Dito (yes, the film is autobiographical) in 1980s Queens, as well as Dito's return to the area fifteen years later. The present-day sequences revolve around Dito's prodigal-son return to the area, combined with his reluctance to face his past. The past sequences slowly reveal the chain of events, involving an overly protective and emotionally scarred friend, Antonio, and a Scottish immigrant, Mike, that sent Dito running.
The first thing that strikes me about this film is its distinctive look. Consider the color palette that Montiel uses; his 80s sections are all bright reds, yellows, and oranges that scream off of the screen. Like his characters, the look is all about right here, right now, and to hell with the morning. Consider next his modern sequences. Everything has become mottled: we see blues, dark greens, and musty browns. The characters appear to be treading water in algae-covered pools. Only briefly, when past lovers flirt, does the more unrestrained palette take brief precedence again. I love this movie's tactile power: few films appeal to the sense of touch, but Saints looks like it's oozing off the screen.
I mentioned earlier that Dito Montiel seemed like the lovechild of Robert Altman and Martin Scorsese, and I'll stand by that. Saints feels an awfully lot like Mean Streets, Scorsese's debut film, in its relentless pacing and high energy. Scorsese's influence can also be felt in Montiel's successful employment of music. Like Scorsese's films, Saints rarely employs traditional film scoring. Instead, he uses popular songs, most notably "Trouble," by Cat Stevens, and KISS' "New York Groove." Watching the scenes in which the songs are used, I notice that the majority of each scene's power is derived from its music. String music is nice, but it can't capture the headlong joy of "New York Groove" or the bittersweet melancholy of "Trouble."
Speaking of "Trouble"...The montage in which that song is used is one of my favorite scenes in the film. It's a perfect exercise in minimalism. Each character gets one sentence, but it defines who they are. (I tried to embed this scene here, but, God help me, I'm not very tech-savvy, so here's the link instead: www.youtube.com/watch?v=5XtP0T3uiME). Few filmmakers are capable of such restraint, but Montiel stays the course, and the result is great film-making.
Montiel also shows shades of Altman: specifically, in his use of overlapping dialogue. Robert Altman is famous for debunking the idea that only one character can speak at once, and Montiel takes this idea and runs with it. This is especially evident in the family scenes in Dito's apartment. And why shouldn't it be this way? In reality, Dito's family is loud, opinionated, and overly gregarious. Any scene showing them should play as such. A lesser director would have attempted to shoehorn these characters into acceptable script format, but Montiel has the courage to let everyone talk at once.
Speaking of fun directorial touches, there is one scene that challenges me, and I'd love to see if y'all agree with my interpretation. The scene I'm referring to takes place on the subway; Antonio misses the train, Dito gets on anyway, and meets Mike at the end of the train. Notice how impressionistic this scene is. What gets me in particular is the voice-over: in the voice-over, Dito and Mike sound quieter, gentler, and the things they say run a little deeper than breaking the ice. Then, directly after the voice-over, the actual conversation happens, and they're both loud, and crass, and awkward. Here's my theory: the voice-over is how each character wants the conversation to sound, and the regular audio is how it actually happens. Note, however, that when Mike is showing Dito the dot on the window that he watches ("Put your eye here, right next to it", that the audio cuts out and the voice-over matches the lips of the actors. Perhaps this is when the encounter softens, and the two characters begin to be themselves.
...Which brings me to another theory. I've mentioned this before and gotten interesting reactions, so I'd love to see what you think.
I think there's a definite homoerotic subtext between Dito, Antonio, and Mike. A love triangle, to be exact. The subway scene above is a perfect example: it's shot in the style of a period romance, as far as lighting and camerawork is concerned, and notice that Mike and Dito's eyes linger on each other longer than they ought. Then, pay attention again during the only scene in which all characters are present: the night on the rooftop. How Antonio keeps shooting glances at Mike and Dito, Dito's body language in relation to Mike, and how the end result plays. Consider Antonio's actions right after Dito is beaten on the street. Watch his hands. I'm not saying that it's anything explicit: I'm just saying that there's something there--Montiel, perhaps, is acknowledging the basic undertones of male affection that seem so taboo in today's society.
At any rate, this is a fantastic movie. Flawed? Perhaps. But certainly not worthy of the $5 bargain bin at Wal Mart. Find it if you can. If you already have, spread the love. This movie deserves more!
And I know I'm not the only one with opinions here. Am I reading into these relationships too much? Is Montiel's use of music distracting and inappropriate? Does it deserve to be condemned to the bargain bin? Sound off!
A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints-Dito Montiel (2006)
I'm so upset with Dito Montiel. A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints, his debut, feels like bottled lightning, like some perverse combination of Martin Scorsese and Robert Altman. It feels like something daring, original, and completely unique. That this was only his first movie only further solidified my high expectations for him as a new voice in the Hollywood pantheon.
And then he went and made Fighting.
Regardless of his post-Saints career, his first film stands as a raw, searing portrait of love and loyalty. Montiel's film jumps nimbly through time, following a teenage Dito (yes, the film is autobiographical) in 1980s Queens, as well as Dito's return to the area fifteen years later. The present-day sequences revolve around Dito's prodigal-son return to the area, combined with his reluctance to face his past. The past sequences slowly reveal the chain of events, involving an overly protective and emotionally scarred friend, Antonio, and a Scottish immigrant, Mike, that sent Dito running.
The first thing that strikes me about this film is its distinctive look. Consider the color palette that Montiel uses; his 80s sections are all bright reds, yellows, and oranges that scream off of the screen. Like his characters, the look is all about right here, right now, and to hell with the morning. Consider next his modern sequences. Everything has become mottled: we see blues, dark greens, and musty browns. The characters appear to be treading water in algae-covered pools. Only briefly, when past lovers flirt, does the more unrestrained palette take brief precedence again. I love this movie's tactile power: few films appeal to the sense of touch, but Saints looks like it's oozing off the screen.
I mentioned earlier that Dito Montiel seemed like the lovechild of Robert Altman and Martin Scorsese, and I'll stand by that. Saints feels an awfully lot like Mean Streets, Scorsese's debut film, in its relentless pacing and high energy. Scorsese's influence can also be felt in Montiel's successful employment of music. Like Scorsese's films, Saints rarely employs traditional film scoring. Instead, he uses popular songs, most notably "Trouble," by Cat Stevens, and KISS' "New York Groove." Watching the scenes in which the songs are used, I notice that the majority of each scene's power is derived from its music. String music is nice, but it can't capture the headlong joy of "New York Groove" or the bittersweet melancholy of "Trouble."
Speaking of "Trouble"...The montage in which that song is used is one of my favorite scenes in the film. It's a perfect exercise in minimalism. Each character gets one sentence, but it defines who they are. (I tried to embed this scene here, but, God help me, I'm not very tech-savvy, so here's the link instead: www.youtube.com/watch?v=5XtP0T3uiME). Few filmmakers are capable of such restraint, but Montiel stays the course, and the result is great film-making.
Montiel also shows shades of Altman: specifically, in his use of overlapping dialogue. Robert Altman is famous for debunking the idea that only one character can speak at once, and Montiel takes this idea and runs with it. This is especially evident in the family scenes in Dito's apartment. And why shouldn't it be this way? In reality, Dito's family is loud, opinionated, and overly gregarious. Any scene showing them should play as such. A lesser director would have attempted to shoehorn these characters into acceptable script format, but Montiel has the courage to let everyone talk at once.
Speaking of fun directorial touches, there is one scene that challenges me, and I'd love to see if y'all agree with my interpretation. The scene I'm referring to takes place on the subway; Antonio misses the train, Dito gets on anyway, and meets Mike at the end of the train. Notice how impressionistic this scene is. What gets me in particular is the voice-over: in the voice-over, Dito and Mike sound quieter, gentler, and the things they say run a little deeper than breaking the ice. Then, directly after the voice-over, the actual conversation happens, and they're both loud, and crass, and awkward. Here's my theory: the voice-over is how each character wants the conversation to sound, and the regular audio is how it actually happens. Note, however, that when Mike is showing Dito the dot on the window that he watches ("Put your eye here, right next to it", that the audio cuts out and the voice-over matches the lips of the actors. Perhaps this is when the encounter softens, and the two characters begin to be themselves.
...Which brings me to another theory. I've mentioned this before and gotten interesting reactions, so I'd love to see what you think.
I think there's a definite homoerotic subtext between Dito, Antonio, and Mike. A love triangle, to be exact. The subway scene above is a perfect example: it's shot in the style of a period romance, as far as lighting and camerawork is concerned, and notice that Mike and Dito's eyes linger on each other longer than they ought. Then, pay attention again during the only scene in which all characters are present: the night on the rooftop. How Antonio keeps shooting glances at Mike and Dito, Dito's body language in relation to Mike, and how the end result plays. Consider Antonio's actions right after Dito is beaten on the street. Watch his hands. I'm not saying that it's anything explicit: I'm just saying that there's something there--Montiel, perhaps, is acknowledging the basic undertones of male affection that seem so taboo in today's society.
At any rate, this is a fantastic movie. Flawed? Perhaps. But certainly not worthy of the $5 bargain bin at Wal Mart. Find it if you can. If you already have, spread the love. This movie deserves more!
And I know I'm not the only one with opinions here. Am I reading into these relationships too much? Is Montiel's use of music distracting and inappropriate? Does it deserve to be condemned to the bargain bin? Sound off!
Your Slice of Zen for the Day
"I can't tell you anything you don't know. We live in the trenches out there, we fight, we try not to be killed, and sometimes we are. That's all. I heard you in here, reciting the same old stuff. Making more iron men, making more heroes. You still think it's beautiful and sweet to die for your country, don't you? We used to think you knew. The first bombardment taught us better. It's dirty and painful to die for your country. When it comes to dying for your country, it's better not to die at all."
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