Down at the White News-Junkie Apollo

NO END IN SIGHT CHARLES FERGUSON 2007

Never since I saw the first Scary Movie in the blackest theater in my neck of Connecticut have I had such a raucous theater-going time of it! Turtlenecks were stretched out, lattes were spilled, epithets were offered unapologetically, and many a single man ran home after to get his Daily Kos fix. Fuck. A guy next to me even drank an "outside" beer during the film. Someone called Condy a bitch. It was wild.

But not so wild, I'd imagine as the QUAGMIRE IN IRAQ. While Ferguson's doq nimbly dodges the apparently irrelevant question of the rightness of the decision to go to preemptive war in the first place, he does a fine job of showing how fucked was the logistical planning. It's a bit hard to sympathize with beauracrats and military officers who just wanted a cleaner war, but for a more coherent, level-headed denunciation of the Debacle in Iracle, I can't imagine the concerned cineaste could look much further.

Only, come to the film with all lobes firing, as one tee tee break and you're liable to miss a few op-eds' worth of information. The facts and figures come flying fast and free, and like any documentary I've seen of this scope, I always leave having wanted just a bit more context or even a dissenting voice here and there--no matter how objectionable it might be. But a dedication to more or less common sense explication, a surprisingly lean and economic narrative, and a rhythmic sense of connection-drawing make for a pretty convincing experience. Even if one is left wanting to do a bit of research on one's own following the flick.

Essentially, No End is just good filmmaking. The story weaves subtly and un-contrivedly between the universal and the personal, intertwining points of view in a way that Mike "Sicko" Moore would never even attempt even if he could. The editing is fluid and miraculous and every still interview shot feels just as urgent as the unusually well-chosen shards of shaky on-the-ground news footage.

While many other Iraq pics take a harder stance on the conceptual reasons for going to war, I imagine No End in Sight will be the film that's most fondly remembered.


Incidentally, today's my berfday and I'll be celebrating with a trip back to the Forum with the GF to see Preminger's Laura on the silver screen. Drinking to follow!

There's Doings About!

DRAMA/MEX GERARDO NARANJO 2006

There, see. I don't even remember las dramaticas so well and it's a scant hour after the fact. Such is the case with the sultry stick of cinematic sweet, in one eye and out the other, or so the proverb goes. Or maybe it's the humidity. Or probably the PBR. Theaters have A/C and I want nothing tonight but a slap on the back of the head and a prod in the right direction.

Naranjo answers the call with this silly nod to French New Wave, adolescence and a vague sense of menace. Sailing along on the wings of a few very iconic scenes and some incredibly sympathetic (nay, downright cute) leads, the unfortunately titled Drama/Mex seduced me with naught but a side-long glance from Ms. Diana Garcia--she of very potential AmerAppar ad-porn fame. That and a modestly chubs teen with designs upon a suicidal ex-father who share a Lolita relationship of Lost in Translation proportions minus the obvious gag factor.

To sum, it's a narrative mix along the supposedly (insanely mis-reviewed) lines of Amores Perros but it stinks like my 8th grade vid project, which basically translates to a possibly unearned but commendable feeling of authenticity. Story 2 involves the aforementioned Ms. Garcia intermittently fucking some Ryan Phillipe-wannabe prick while ditching crowd-favorite, Gonzalo, with the final analysis approving of the hometown fave.

Plot issues aside, it's take your pick of very fine video cinematography making the most of a few hot Mexicans or an indulgent romp in the post-Y Tu terrain. Or is that the same territory? Or have I cum too far?
Either way, my buttons were pushed and we've here got the sandy sitcom-cum-Myspace love story of the year--or stories as the case may have. A perfect night out and a damn decent flick, though by no means excellent, this is a day-in-the-life without the social comment that a few prick reviewers seem to demand so violently.

Charges of nihilism and emptiness were raised RottenTomatoes-wise, but your's truly answers to a higher calling: immediate gratification. In that arena, Naranjo answers muy graciously. In substantive terms, I was left wanting as the tale spins from possible Battle in Heaven-level psycho-drama of the higher order to a neat 'n' tidy beach bash of earthly delights. But that's the point, so find your own waterfront softcore. Or in other words, the girls are hot, the lasting impression's not.

Kudos to a handful of great shots, some sex, and an old man crying over the barrel of a revolver. If that's not a way to kill a hot summer night, then maybe I need a vacation.


WHAT AM I LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?
Well, Nancy & Lee downstairs, Magnetism of War by Bone Awl up here!