471: 'Cause These Reviews Won't Write Themselves...
First, two black comedies, one that doesn't work and one that does:
"The Fluffer" (3 stars)
This is a movie not quite bad enough for me to stop watching--mainly because it reminds me of those crappy B-movies I used to watch every weekend afternoon growing up--but also because, damned if the idea isn't intresting in and of itself: poor bisexual Larry (not real name) gets drawn into the craaaazy world of gay porn, falling in love with straight gay-for-pay star, whom he, *ahem* 'fluffs'.
The film has its moments, but overall lacks in execution. I mean, all the ingredients for an entertaining movie are here, and they should work splendidly, but somehow, the mood is one of a dim lack of imagination which manages to make things as exciting as explicit cock shots, gay guys getting lap dances from their straight crushes girlfriends (and ensuant dialogue), poking fun at pretentious gay art (not to mention, teh gay porn), an abortion, a shady murder and requisite dash to Mexico--all thsi manages to become almost boring. I blame the cinematographer. Well, the writer could've done better too, but...
Somehow I kept on watching it, and I did get a bit of pay-off in the end with the most darkly comic final montage I have ever seen on film. Though, actually, I somehow felt like I"d seen it before somewhere...
Anyway, I am rather sad it doesn't click together, and we certainly can't blame it on lack of budget (*ahempointstoanynumberofbrilliantindiefilms*), but just general laziness on the filmmakers part, and prolly the subpar acting... They could at least have the dignity to be bad enough to be laughable. But sadly, I had to settle for enjoying this at least a litle bit ironically, like a bad little hipster...
"Welcome to the Dollhouse"
If you like indie films or black comedies even a little bit, you owe it to yourself to see this one. Todd Solondz's 1996 near-masterpiece is one of the most honest studies in pre-pubescent misery ever made (or that I have seen thus far). If you, like me, knew the fate of school leper, you won't see Dawn Wiener (Heather Matarazzo) as a hero so much as an on-screen representation of yourself: replete with faults, selfish and reactionary, naive and foolish, and ultimately, unable to do much about her fate but endure.
The beauty of this film is that it offers no Hollywood ending, no shining beacon of hope--no more that you would get in real life. It is this same honesty which makes the film both hilarious and sweet--for seemingly all the wrong reasons, but in the end, feeling entirely right. 5 stars.
And these next two films, other than being excellent, both feature early performances by the kids from "Little Miss Sunshine":
"L.I.E. (2001)"
Poor Howie Blitzer (Paul Dano): what's a kid to do when his mother is taken by a crash on the Long Island Expressway (acronym of the title) and his father gets arrested for fraud? Why, move in with a charismatic pederast, of course!
Actually, the first half of the film seems to be more about Howie's burgeoning relationship with punk-ass friend (whose name escapes me), who appears to be some kind of hustler on the side, as Big John is quite aware, informing Howie of this after the punk takes off with his lovely pistol (not a euphemism) in one of the creepiest scenes ever caught on film. Regardless, this isn't really a film about paedephilia per se--which is why I say pederasty, because in the end, Howie goes to Big John of his own free will, and Big John is either a good guy or more suave than that, because he doesn't take advantage of Howie's upset state, apparently wanting to act like more of a father figure.
Which in the end, I"m not sure if it's a cop-out, but it does lend for some tender, if morally and sexually amibguous, scenes between the two: Howie, in nothing but hi underwear, crying in Big John's arms, because he thinks his father doesn't love him; Big John trying to teach Howie how to drive and a tense scene at the beach.
The movie also doesn't have much of a certain ending--or maybe it does, but I'm not sure I like it. Still, there's something very alluring and bold about the movie, even if nothing particularly sexually explicit happens. Which somehow makes the movie seem like even more of a middle-finger to any middle-class audience coming across this--they're willing to use our own dirty minds against us to assume the worst, and then giving us a very bittersweet coming-of-age story. 4 stars.
Elizabeth Taylor, oh my! And is he really gay, or does he just fuck Muslim painters for fun?
"Keane (2004)"
It doesn't get much more indie (or more daring) than this: we essentially spend the first hour following a paranoid schizophrenic (Damian Lewis) go about his disjointed life and search for his kidnapped daughter (who may or may not exist)--and because he is so gorgeous, and such a good actor, I'm not exactly complaining. Enter a woman and her daughter (precocious Abigail Breslin), and we get a last half-hour of some of the most powerful film-making I have ever seen.
"Flight of the Red Balloon" (see previous reviews) essentially prepared me for this, what with its lack of a film-score--we are left watching Keane's movements and talking-to-himself up close, with the sounds of his heavy breathing and the other inhuman choas of the seedier parts of New York for a sonic palette. This is supposed to have the effect of taking us inside Keane's world, but we are still essentially the voyeur's, which makes the outcome even more sad--not just because we dont' understand his madness or his logic, but because Ms. Breslin and her character seem to so much better than even he can.
It is an ending that leaves you breathless--not least of which because you're still not quite sure what just happened, and at the same time, it makes an incoherent kind of sense. You leave this feel feeling totally embroiled and still trying to piece together the unsolvable puzzle of madness. And Abigail Breslin, that little bitch, has already beat you to it! 5 stars (to infinity).
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