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5/10
An ending that undermines the buildup
22 February 2024
Warning: Spoilers
Beautifully shot, mysteriously pieced together in editing, and built up towards an ending populated by a very interesting cast of characters each with a rich tapestry, the ending unfortunately ruins all of these with something that came out of nowhere.

Instead of the usual gruff, ill tempered (albeit retired) private dick getting the better of everyone, all whilst showing us that he has a heart of gold after all, what we got was an un-earned ending without any setup whatsoever, and which basically amounted to, "The UN wins! Everyone pack up and go home!", all whilst said eponymous retired private dick just lets the end happen without doing anything, even after piecing it all together all by himself.
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6/10
Playing the humour too subtly in the beginning made for finish that felt inconsistent with initial tone set.
2 February 2022
It was billed as a comedy, but in the beginning I found it a little too subtle about mocking the mystery whodunnit genre. There were in fact real moments of pathos. So when the real comedic stuff came on, I was just kind of stiff and still, "oh, here come the jokes I guess?" I laughed, but not so much at the jokes, just at the fact that I got caught off guard. "Oh yeah, this is a comedy after all. Hah!"

Throughout it all, I kept thinking that something like Jennifer Aniston and Adam Sandler's "Murder Mystery" did a better lampooning of the genre. Whilst Ana de Armas and Daniel Craig's "Knives Out" was a better homage to it that had moments of comedic genius.
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Louis Cyr (2013)
9/10
Hagiographic, but I still love it!
8 February 2019
"Louis Cyr" is entirely hagiographic but we're allowed - every nation is allowed that of their heroes. If anything, that's probably something we should doing more of: Exalting our heroes, mythologizing our exploits as a nation, and totally embracing our underdog nature, only to punch - or lift - above our weight class. For a nation composed of not that many people, to have quite a number of individuals to emerge from here as 'world class' is quite something. More so when you're talking about the 19th century.

However, a caution: Most films that flag-wave too much end up devolving into nationalistic kitsch.

Fortunately, "Louis Cyr" is a film that constantly has its titular character's humble roots in the background, yet never fully drops the weight of what all that entails on your plate. Unlike so many other smaller film cultures' epic treatments of its heroes, Cyr the character's French-Canadianness, and "Louis Cyr" the film itself, only deals in Canadiana when it purposefully serves the story.

He is at first a French-Canadian in Massachusetts, out of place around Irish immigrants. His provincial roots are at the forefront when a theatre manager expresses concern whether he could fill a large Montreal auditorium. His being a (secretly illiterate) simpleton from the colonies is an issue when he goes to London - after all, Eugen Sandow has beautiful muscles and writes books!

Never does the film really truly jab you in the ribs as a reminder, "Look! Look how Canadian he is!" If anything, he lived at a time when being Canadian was a disadvantage. Without saying it outright, "Louis Cyr" the film makes the case that Louis Cyr - the person - made being Canadian as something to be proud of.

It is this kind of rationing nationalism that other Canadian filmmakers can't always get a hold of (Paul Gross comes to mind, who always seems to call in an artillery barrage of Canadiana).

What "Louis Cyr" does is to simply tell the story of a man endowed with natural gifts overcoming his humble beginnings in order to cement his name into immortality, all whilst trying to be as good a father as he only knows how.

In that, I think it succeeds.
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Rocco (2016)
10/10
Brilliant! Love it!
21 November 2018
Beautifully shot and sensitively treated, this documentary follows Rocco Tano, a.k.a. Rocco Siffredi as he counts down to the swan song of his on-screen pornographic career - a final scene with long time collaborators... nay! Co-conspirators, Kelly Stafford, director Jon Stagliano, and Rocco's cousin, director of photography and often co-director, Gabriele Galetta.

Although the documentary filmmakers access pornographic sets where sex scenes are taking place, the images always register to me as artistic, intimate, and honest. The closeups, long lenses and shallow focus aren't simply there to avoid a more explicit framing - in fact, you still see penis, vulva, bruised and scratched skin after intense butt slapping, and there's even semen on performers' faces that made it on the final edit.

What it is is an up close and personal interaction with the people who perform these acts in order to make a living. You're bright up there with them through physical strain, exertion, and of course, presumably, pleasure.

This is not a documentary that leers at the sexual act. There is no trace of lechery from the filmmakers. However, neither is it one that takes the contrarian position that "it's just work and porn performers feel nothing. It's all business".

Of course it's a business, but it isn't just that. Rocco Siffredi has a lot of feelz man.

For him, a self confessed sex addict, it is a complex struggle between his natural physical gifts and prowess, this being the only thing he knows how to do, the guilt he suffers with having been a pornographic performer and filmmaker whilst being married and having two sons. On top of all that, add in being Catholic and being intensely loving of his dearly departed mother.

It's also quite clear that he likes intimacy with his co-stars. There is a post-scene interaction between Rocco, Abella Danger, and Veruca James where it's hard to see anything else but post-coital honesty. Their banter is far removed from performers rushing off to clean up and shower after the scene is wrapped. Instead, there they are, sitting around soaking in their sweat, other bodily fluids, and ruined makeup, just talking.

With Hollywood undergoing some much needed reckoning, there is a certain irony with how Rocco, a performer who specializes in the rough sex genre, in fact has surprising bedside manners*. Here is a man who plays at being abusive on-screen but is in fact quite kind. Whilst on the other hand, you have Hollywood and other mainstream entertainment types who put up a kind and caring public persona, but are in fact monsters.

There is a scene captured on camera where the actress taps out and Rocco tells his guys (he wasn't the one preforming, but rather producing/directing) to "leave her alone for a while, she needs a break". Cut to Rocco and the actress alone, cuddling (he is a pornographer, after all), him telling her everything will be ok, just be sure to avoid burning out.

In another scene, a pre-game talk is captured where he makes sure to outline boundaries on what's ok, what's not. What can he direct his stars to do to each other, what he can do to them.

Since his reputation precedes him, people almost always expect him to be rough. In California, Abella Danger takes Rocco's hand and shoves it in her own mouth. Rocco seems to push the boundaries, but then they make out as though that's what Abella wanted all along.

It's this kind of nuance that makes this documentary really engaging. No way to get around it: He's not just a big dick and pretty face. This is a very complex man.

Then there's Kelly Stafford.

She is so amazing. The things peshe says, the life philosophy she lives by, and the appetites she possesses and the sheer power and control she exudes. I now want to see a documentary about her! That would be interesting.

All in all, a must see.

___________________

* = There is a scene with James Deen and if you don't know anything about him, a lot of his co-stars and ex girlfriend(s) have accused him of rape. So there's that. Glad the filmmakers didn't give him a voice in this movie.
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2/10
Bland an uninspiring
21 November 2018
This has been lingering on my Netflix to-watch list and I finally got around to it. Being a bit of a car guy and racing fan, I sincerely wanted to like "Journey to Le Mans" (2014)

I didn't. It just did not do anything for me.

Being about a small privateer team, it already offers a unique perspective wholly different from "Truth in 24". Why oh why then does it try so hard to ape that nuts and bolts 'these are the facts laid bare' type of storytelling? Trying to do that with this team using far fewer filmmaking resources just doesn't work.

It's clear the filmmakers couldn't show up for every race meet, every practice, every team meeting and walk through-talk through. They haven't got the firepower. And yet they still try to pull off a story about building up to the big race using a patchwork of mostly generic laps and repetitive crew footage devoid of emotion. What is supposed to be the powerhouse and cache of Patrick Stewart and Tiff Needell end up being a crutch it leans on in order to patch up missing race/event coverage.

Such weaknesses needn't be deficiencies. If only more focus was put towards zeroing in on emotion. If only the filmmakers concentrated on the team principals' love for the sport, about what drives them, why they put in so much time money and effort towards racing. If only they showcased how they FEEL, then maybe we too, the audience, can feel. See: "Love The Beast" with Eric Bana.

Alas, I only came off feeling as though the filmmakers had done a disservice to the interviewees: They all come off as being boring storytellers. To interview someone is to ask them to tell a story. Unfortunately everyone seems to be the type to not expand on their feelings and motivations, who aren't open to talking about how they feel, and just would not open up about which part of their childhood influenced (and continues to influence) this desire, this drive towards victory in the rarefied field of Le Mans top finishers. I mean, there was this part about Simon Dolan being kicked out of school and then... I don't know, pursuing education on his own terms??? He's an accountant, which means his credentials are no joke, even if his education is unconventional and or self taught. Maybe the guy is a supreme autodidact, which means he has in him an amazing story, an amazing journey to share to the audience. Yet I barely got to know him. I had to read about him in another article just to fill in the blanks of "who is this man, and why should I be rooting for him to win?"

Being that I ended up knowing so little about his personality, his family life and how he is as a person, all I know is that he seems to be someone who I'd trust with money, an airline, and yes, a racing team.

But I would not anchor my story on him.
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8/10
A firmly told story that stays erect throughout its runtime
20 November 2015
Warning: Spoilers
(warning: this review may prematurely reveal some spoilers)

"The Final Member" is a gripping documentary with a single thrust - the quest by the phallological museum's creator and curator, Sigurður Hjartarson, to secure a human specimen. Although firm in this mission, the film does not make his motivations too pointed. In fact, he comes off as an entirely relatable and warm character that you will not find yourself shrinking from the cold biological and medical truths of what he's trying to achieve. You can just tell that he's not just a man of science, his heart is in fact throbbing with love for nature and the craft of his work.

Perhaps the only prickly character in this whole film was the American donor, Tom Mitchell, who wants himself to come first and foremost by being the first human to donate his member to the museum. However, he is in competition with a 90 year old Icelandic adventurer, Páll Arason, who has vowed to donate his parts upon the consummation of his life. And with this, Mr. Mitchell is willing to cut the line and beat him off to the finish... by planning to have his Elmo - what he has named his beloved sexual organ - surgically removed.

This is the main conflict in this story and I must say, it provides an intriguing clash where you have two phalluses competing for one spot - certainly not the first time this has happened in human history. The editing is masterful and it in fact tugs you left and right, making you unsure how things are going to finish off. But then, the climax comes, and in the end, one of them gets inside before the other, thus securing its owner's 'immortality' if you will.
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8/10
The Man from UNCLE is a spy comedy that Hammers out a Cavill-cade of Hugh-gely satisfying laughs
13 August 2015
When I first saw the previews for Guy Ritche's latest film, "The Man from UNCLE" – a remake of the series of the same name – I decided to approach it fresh. So I avoided watching any of the adventures of Robert Vaughn's Napoleon Solo and David McCallum's Ilya Kuryakin.

I mean, to do otherwise just would not be fair, since my exposure to the original is limited to pop culture references. Why catch up to a show from decades ago only to rip apart the new one? Why give myself false nostalgia?

That said, I cannot tell you whether this is a faithful recreation of the original, a tasteful homage, or perhaps a complete bastardization.

However, I can say that, as a Guy Ritchie action-comedy, it works. The jabs at fictional representations of espionage are delivered with near perfect timing. Even the languishing takes meant to ridicule the tropes, stereotypes and clichés we have all come to see in every action spy thriller do not feel drawn out. All of Ritchie's trademarks are also there, from the diagetic sound that shifts to almost non-diagetic levels as the on screen action becomes a musical montage – a music video if you will – right down to the ubiquitous tongue in cheek, deadpan humour.

While I am sure the more eagle-eyed of viewers could play a game of "spot the anachronism" (that tube frame 4x4 in the previews, for instance), I would actually fault this movie as being too period. They seem to have cherry picked all the things people imagine as from the era. The result is that the clothes are just too chic, the set pieces too on the nose.

Then again, I guess that is the point: You are meant to fall in love with the aesthetics of that period as interpreted by Oliver Scholl's production design, and as captured by John Mathieson's cinematography. The fashion, the accessories... even the cars. Especially the cars! How could any depiction of the glamour of the sixties be complete without one Jaguar E Type? Also, watch out for the cameo of a $38 million Ferrari.

Even with the attention to detail "Mad Men" put into shattering any preconceived notions of the so-called swinging sixties, as well as CNN's "The Sixties" television documentary series' unflinching look at the social turmoil of those times, somehow I still wish I could have lived back then.

Or at least escape into the movie universe they have created.

Because in our world where terrorist groups are committing heinous acts of barbarity that would put any of UNCLE's supervillain enemies to shame, where spy thrillers like "Homeland" had to up the ante because reality is scarier than the fictional world they have created, where the James Bond 007 franchise lost its playfulness long ago and just keeps getting grittier and grittier, and where Donald Trump is the most popular US republican presidential aspirant, the Cold War and its Mutually Assured Destruction definitely seem worth pining for. I mean what is the mere threat of a few megatons of thermonuclear annihilation compared to the Donald?

The movie is cast satisfyingly well enough, with Armie Hammer's Ilya Kuryakin projecting a cold lethality that may have been a bit much. Luckily, this is a bickering buddy movie, where Henry Cavill's Napoleon Solo balances things out with borderline insufferable calm smoothness. For something with a bunch of Brits speaking in American accents, I am a bit surprised they toned down Gaby Teller's accent whenever the character speaks English – I'm sure the Swedish Alicia Vikander could lay an affectation of an East Berliner real thick.

In all, "The Man from UNCLE" is an enjoyable comedy and an escapist fare which just happens to be seemingly set in our past. I even rank it as a solid tale of espionage, with the end reminding me of Roger Moore as Bond, yelling to General Gogol, "That's détente comrade. I don't have it. You don't have it."
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Rush (I) (2013)
8/10
The HUNT for the next great racing flick is over. Allow me to LAUDA merits of this great film of racing history.
26 September 2013
There are no spoilers in this review of Rush, for the 1976 Grand Prix championship was settled long ago. That it was done in the most unexpected fashion under torrential conditions by the shadow of majestic Mount Fuji, in the legendary racing circuit of the same name, has perhaps made it all the more a hallowed story of Formula One history. Books have been written and documentary films have been made recounting the lives of James Hunt and Niki Lauda many times over. Even the tapes of the live broadcast still exist.

A tricky thing, making a story interesting despite everyone already knowing how it all went down.

Yet, Ron Howard does just that. As expected, there are embellishments, so let's get the biggest one out of the way: Hunt and Lauda never met in that particular F3 race. It is something that has been pointed out when production photos were leaked revealing just that fictional encounter. Certainly not the first nor the worst type of creative license.

Surprisingly, aspects of Hunt's personality are actually toned down. By all accounts, his sexual appetite was more of a compulsion, and his hard drug use and alcohol consumption more than recreational. He was renowned for enjoying all these to excess, even before having to nurse the pain of a broken marriage. His temper was described by Sir Sterling Moss as "volatile", with Hunt punching many a poor marshal who eagerly rushed to help Hunt after a shunt – an oft repeated rhyme for this was a regular occurrence throughout his career. Instead, Ron Howard relies yet again on re-imagining another encounter - his version of Hunt's aggression slightly more noble.

Despite these, Hemsworth's Hunt is still pretty much like the real Hunt, from the pre-race nerves, the vomiting, right down to the witty, politically incorrect, off the cuff remarks. In all, the James Hunt of Rush is a highly sympathetic character, one with real fears and tangible feelings underneath his playboy persona.

Daniel Bruhl's Lauda on the other hand, is on the verge of one-dimensionality. Throughout the film, the Lauda of Rush is too uptight, too much of a straight edge. While the real Niki Lauda's methodical and no-nonsense approach is renowned, Lauda is a respected figure then and now. His then wife, Marlene Lauda, said of the ever escalating competitiveness of F1 late in Niki's career, "All the drivers are so serious, it's no longer fun. Niki is the only one who likes to smile and be friendly with the other drivers" – a far cry from his on-screen depiction of an insufferable pedant.

Only the real Lauda's act of self-preservation truly hints of the film version's human side. A decision borne out of fear, Tyrrell driver Jody Scheckter, called the real Lauda's actions as true bravery. Lauda got out of his Ferrari, defied Il Commendatore, and did not make any excuses. He just could not finish that race and he owned up to that decision.

My biggest complaint is that for a motor racing film, Rush shows very little racing, with any long sequence only occurring about an hour into the film. Instead, races are abbreviated as quick flashes of blurred landscape and overused shaky in-car/on-car camera footage – likely added post-production. Devoid of wide angle shots and any form of continuity editing, it's hard not to call attention into the shakiness as a crutch to depict frantic excitement. With the availability of such stable cranes and booms mounted on various high speed chase cars (such as the ones seen during production!), I was hoping for Rush to break from the "action equals shaky camera" trend of Hollywood filmmaking. Show me real driving! Alas, we are treated to quick, jarring cuts. Inevitably, I could never quite tell where the hell they are in the iconic racetracks of F1's yesteryear, were it not for the captions. Save for Monaco (which only appears in Hunt's visualization) and Nurburgring, all the other racing sequences could have been shot in Brands Hatch for all I know.

Nonetheless, even though shot in digital format (Arri Alexa and Canon C300) I must commend the colour grading. The temptation must have been there to make it look orange and blue, or perhaps excessively filtered, like oh so many disgusting instagram photos. Instead, there is a subtle warmth to the whole film, as though it were shot in 1970's film stock.

Yet, I really only point out these minor annoyances of Rush's action driving sequences because I am such a big fan of Frankenheimer's Grand Prix (1966) – still to this day my benchmark for any racing flick. There have been many car related movies, few have been about racing, and all have failed because they pandered to the lowest common denominator of automobile fans. Because despite these embellishments, glossed over details, and current action filmmaking clichés, Rush is a masterful work of storytelling. Foregoing long drawn out and realistic driving sequences, Rush's plot moves very fast indeed, all whilst largely staying true to the actual historical turn of events – Frankenheimer's Grand Prix was a notoriously slow burn. Nonetheless, perhaps in homage to Grand Prix, Rush also utilizes track announcers, reporters, and print headlines to advance the exposition (As an aside, I am unsure whether Simon Taylor plays Murray Walker or is he playing himself?).

If anything, the mere fact that there is a slick new racing movie out will leave motorsport fans and racers alike thankful. So used are these fans and racers to have their love, their passion, and their pastime being mangled and misrepresented, that anything close enough to the gritty realism of the sport is a very welcome and refreshing change indeed. For those of you who feared this will be Stallone's Driven, redux, then you need not worry. Go watch it! You won't be disappointed.
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