Far Flungers

The color of our emotions, or, “色,戒”

Lust. Caution.
Lust, Caution.
Lust…Caution.

The English name of Ang Lee’s 2007 film consists of two words. Taken separately, they stand alone as individual concepts: Lust, a primal, human urge; Caution, an evolved, societal tool. Put them side-by-side, and contrast emerges: primal versus evolved, individual versus society, incongruent. Poke a little hole in the membrane that separates the two, and dynamics shift. Lust surges in the face of Caution. Caution stares right back, coolly, unflinching.

The stories of “Pi” are both true

I walked into “Life of Pi” with extremely high expectations. After all, Ang Lee is a masterful director who helmed two of the greatest modern love stories in film. The trailers assured me that it was a must-see for the visuals alone, and then a friend said that it would transform me to another world through groundbreaking use of cinematography to manipulate the membrane of water. I walked in expecting the greatest use of 3D in film history; I walked out with much more.

A nameless gangster in 2012’s best South Korean film

Ik-hyeon is a sleazy piece of work you cannot help but look at with disgust and wonder. While he is corrupt, greedy, treacherous, opportunistic, vain, and foolish, he is also a wily scoundrel who may get away with his crimes and misdemeanors even when everything seems to fall down on him, and he is willing to win the game by any means necessary for his survival and advance in the system.

Nostalgia for the Light

Jana Monji

You can watch the full video of “Nostalgia for the Light” (2012) on the PBS POV website until January 23, 2013. Also available to watch instantly on Netflix.

The desert light in the daytime is sharp and destructive, slowly blinding you as you age. I grew up in what had been a desert, and that taught me to love the night, yet I never looked up to contemplate the stars. Perhaps if I had I would have learned to love the desert as Patricio Guzmán.

Losing face to your enemy

Gerardo Valero

The plot in “Face/Off” (1997) may sound ridiculous in real life terms but allowing our imaginations to experience and accept such preposterous events, the kind none of us will ever be able to live through, is a prime example of the great feats that cinema can achieve. And what a fantastic concept “Face/Off” had to begin with. There have been recent features where I’ve had a hard time grasping how boardrooms full of film executives could possibly green light the spending of millions of dollars when being pitched ideas that no filmmaker, however talented, could ever have succeeded with (“A man cures his depression by talking to a puppet beaver!” “A young archer princess grows closer to her mother when a witch turns her into a bear!”).

When Silence is not Golden

Omer M. Mozaffar

Dedicated to all those who lost family members prematurely, and to two students — one struggling with addiction, and the other who lost her father.

This is grief. The silence that comes with a loved one’s death is like no normal silence. It is in our culture that we respond to this stillness with stillness upon stillness. We try to think of death as that leap into some great beyond, perhaps finally letting our loved one’s fluorescent inner radiance free. In the process, those loved ones take with them the air from within our lungs. So, in coping, we respond to their perceived new freedom by restricting ourselves with strict boundaries. And, as we cope with loss, we find relief in reunions. Time begins to jump around as we sit in the moment in front of us, leaping between moments in the past, frightened by the cloud in the future. The reunions open old happy memories that help turn that searing, salty burn of the tears into a blankety warmth. But, in our culture, the reunions often end quickly, leaving us alone in the darkness, unable to sleep. This is grief. And, this is what I observed in the first half hour of Susanne Bier’s soft-spoken “Things we Lost in the Fire” (2007).

Little Hushpuppy in a big forgotten world

Omer M. Mozaffar

Benh Zeitlin’s first feature film, “Beasts of the Southern Wild” (2012), is at times a wonderful and at times a gripping story of a little girl making sense in a forgotten land of trees and rust. It follows in the tradition of movies about happy children running through an unhappy world, in an America we never see on the screen. If she does not steal your heart in the first hour, she will surely grab it in the final thirty minutes. So, if you have your own little Ruthless Gradeschooler her age, then I pity the levees that hold back your tears.

Pixar’s Moonrakers

Michał Oleszczyk

La Luna available via VOD on YouTube.

The traditional end-of-the-year list-making craze is bound to dominate the Internet for the entire month of December (as well as stir many a Twitter feud). It’s hardly a stretch to foresee that most of the upcoming Top 10 lists will be dominated by three movies featuring remarkable kids. Benh Zeitlin’s “Beasts of the Southern Wild”, Wes Anderson’s “Moonrise Kingdom” and the Dardenne brothers’ “The Kid with a Bike” all featured children as characters whose temperament, imagination and sheer physical energy couldn’t be contained by the (very different) worlds which they happened to inhabit.

Travelling with an unknown companion

Charlie Schmidlin

* Available on Netflix Instant

The deliberate omission of a film’s plot point draws intrigue, anticipation, and dread toward its eventual reveal, but in “The Loneliest Planet,” director Julia Loktev’s terse, quixotic drama, that secretive center should rightly be the least emphasized aspect. Its narrative indeed hinges on a gesture best left discovered (although easily imagined), but it excels instead in exploring what shifts that crucial action represents. Etching into relief the mislaid assumptions on which relationships are founded and forgotten, there is a quiet, terrifying accuracy to Loktev’s work – one without fanfare or supernatural copout – that reveals itself under the guise of expressionistic travelogue into the Georgian mountains.

The fix was in

Gerardo Valero

Robert Redford’s “Quiz Show” (1994) depicts the early days of television during the 1950s, a world that evoked fantasy but was run by real human beings. Unlike today’s TV programming, the shows from those days were innocent and naïve (much as portrayed in “Pleasantville”) but the people behind the scenes were like their colleagues in Sidney Lumet’s “Network” (1976). “Quiz Show” shares some basic themes with the latter: the wrongdoings that network executives repeatedly commit, those that good people can occasionally perpetrate as well through greed, and the common denominator between them.

A One-Night Affair, A Day of Afterwards

Charlie Schmidlin

Gathering the notion that excess equals legitimacy, studios as well as independents seem to have recently relegated the term “black” filmmaking to mean diversity-centric productions with market potential. In the past few years, as films like “Pariah,” “Restless City,” and “Middle of Nowhere” carve out singular representations of black perspectives. It seems damaging to believe that simple bait-and-switch tactics, as seen in Neil LaBute’s remake of “Death at a Funeral,” can fall under the same blanket classification.

Not just an ordinary superhero

Krishna Bala Shenoi

It seems to be an unwritten rule that every superhero origin movie should have a scene in which the main character excitedly experiments with his or her powers before fully donning the mantle of the titular hero.

Consider the scene from “Spider-Man” in which Peter Parker scales walls and jumps from building to building joyously, or the one from “Iron Man” in which a reckless Tony Stark flies too far into the higher reaches of the atmosphere just to break that altitude record, or that scene from “Superman” in which the young Clark Kent races with a train.

Dreams and films and dreams

Krishna Bala Shenoi

No one is certain about dreams. If they tell you they are, they’re either fooling you or themselves. There isn’t a universally accepted definition of dreams. The whole idea behind them isn’t wholly understood. Even scientists aren’t sure about the purpose of dreams. And most of us don’t understand, or heck, even remember, our own dreams.My moseying around different blogs and websites has brought me a bit of random knowledge about the subject. I read there are two kinds of dreams: Authentic and Illusory. Authentic dreams are those that reflect actual memories and experiences of the dreamer. I guess that would mean they stick to the laws of physics and stuff too. Illusory dreams, on the other hand, contain impossible, incongruent, or bizarre content. Dali-esque stuff, maybe?I guess my brain must be messily wired or something, as I have, or at least remember having, mainly illusory dreams.

The men who pushed Humpty Dumpty

Pablo Villaça

I’m not naive enough to believe that, at some point in history, the media political coverage (national or international) was in fact absolutely impartial. After all, controlling the typewriter and, later, computer keyboards were human beings with their own passions and ideologies – and it is clear that, even if they tried to be objective (those who tried, at least), they couldn’t avoid filtering one fact or another by following their particular beliefs. Unfortunately, even though that occurs, I doubt that the level of indoctrination exhibited by professional journalism in History reached the alarming level of proselytism we have witnessed in recent years: while in United States 9/11 turned the media into a spokesperson of Bush’s government, allowing him to lead the country to a war based on lies (something that many realized only a while ago), in Brazil large “journalistic” vehicles clearly embraced right-wing candidates during recent elections with no attempt whatsoever of masking their partisanship.

Through a swan, darkly

Pablo Villaça

Mirrors and reflections have always been an obsession for filmmakers from all over the world – something that came as a result of the wealth of symbolism that they inspire, of course, but also of the psychological development all of us go through in order to recognize ourselves as individuals. (That led, for instance, to Jean-Louis Baudry’s brilliant analogy of the film spectator as someone regressing to the “Mirror Stage” described by Lacan). From Buñuel to Hitchcock and from Fritz Lang to Tarkovsky, directors from different eras and different styles have used doubles as a thematic basis of one or more of their works — but perhaps it has seldom been used so intensely and organically as in Darren Aronofsky’s “Black Swan.”

The inspiring 1979 treasure “Breaking Away”

Gerardo Valero

“Breaking Away” is a movie about four working class friends from a college town who are better know as “The Cutters” a term for the stone quarry workers from town who never got to go to college, and how cycling becomes their unexpected ticket into bigger and better things.

It is populated with original characters who feel completely real, they all have their ambitions, their fears and their regrets which are hardly unlike ours. Each of their numerous idiosyncrasies only serve to make them all the more endearing.

With great power, comes great responsibility

“With great power, comes great responsibility.” How many times have we superhero fans heard this line, let alone understand its implications? Do we really take to heart how much sacrifice such heroism involves, or comprehend what would be at stake? Superhero films tend to glorify ability over altruism. That is after all the main reason why we flock to the genre, to see amazing sights never seen before. But one film is special in how it focuses on the gravity of selflessness in spite of such might. And it does so not by showcasing its hero’s greatness, but his ordinariness. It’s Sam Raimi’s “Spider-Man 2.”

Running from your memories

Every couple of years I stumble upon a film that transcends its traditional entertainment purposes and goes for something more divine, ambitious and philosophical. When a film like this comes along, it reassures me that film is indeed the greatest art form of our time. Movies that had that awe-inspiring effect on me include: “Last Year At Marienbad”, “The Exterminating Angel”, “Persona”, “2001: A Space Odyssey”, “Dark City”, “Enter the Void”, “The Thin Red Line”, “Eyes Wide Shut” and “Synecdoche, New York”. I like to call them life-changers.

How to Win an Academy Award

Omer M. Mozaffar

The Academy Award winners for the past thirty years have followed consistent molds, primarily in the categories of Best Actress, Best Actor, and Best Picture. It is a very simple set of templates that I will explain with excessive evidence. This is not to say that the Academy Awards are a conspiracy run by some secret society, although that idea would be quite fun. Rather, at the very least, there is a subtext to American culture that plays out in the ideas and ideals in American cinema, and it plays out consistently. At the very least, I’m illustrating some unwritten ideals in American culture. Whether or not they are healthy or corrupt, they are there in us. So, “Best Picture” is not a great movie; rather, it is a great movie that fulfills the mold.