Reviews

This film is so well-celebrated for such a long time. Much like "The Godfather" or "The Exorcist", I thought there was nothing more to add, until I got to watch it up close recently. This time, I found the character of Major T.E. Lawrence to be one of the oddest characters of the so-called "heroes" in the history of world cinema. He is indeed larger than life, as they say, but he is also a psychologically challenging person whose real intent is never clear. At the time of its 1962 original release, not many films dare to feature an ambiguous character as their heroes. As a rebel, Lawrence is never as conventional as Lenin, Mao, or Che Guevara. His plight is terrifyingly personal, leading us to believe that his suppressed homosexuality may have something to do with his motivation. The Sadism and Masochism of a gay or non-gay person is another addition to such a murky drive. This psychoanalysis can go on and on. My point, though, is David Lean's unconventional selection of such topic of his epic. This goes for Robert Bolt, its script writer, and Peter O'Toole, as a first timer, too. These men take a great risk of being shunned by the scared public of such a progressive idea. Having said so, I think we must credit the flamboyant producer of this film, Sam Spiegel, as well. He risks being branded as a dubious character just to push the story of crazy Lawrence to the world, despite being the film's money man. David Lean, as we look back, is great because he possesses the dual qualities of the true lover of film process, and an unconventional view of the world and its ingredients as a society. In a way, Lean tells Lawrence's story because Lawrence represents him in some strangely rebellious and alienated vision of the world. These two layers of "Lawrence of Arabia", a grossly fun epic ride and a hidden critique of the world's pretentiousness, are exactly why this film just won't die away. It is a cultural treasure of mankind to be dug and dug again. The learning curve goes on.

As an advocate of Sam Peckinpah's "Straw Dogs", I was prepared to condemn this remake and utterly disregard it as for Rob Zombie's "Halloween" duo. Strangely enough, I can't. The film is extravagantly inferior to Peckinpah's incomparable piece of manhood and mankind, but it is not a total failure like many viewers want it to be. For the un-necessity to have it made in the first place, I can possibly subscribe to that notion. Other condemnations, no. The film has tried to adapt the 1970's story to today's world of class differences. Relocating the entire backdrop from rural England to America South, a few of new subplots are added. Such a dramatic change causes the storyline to be less than solid, compared to the original version. The character of Charlie, for instance, is supposed to be of flesh and blood and more real. The new version reduces him to a cardboard character. The rape, the sadism, the religious fanaticism, and the folk leadership are meant to be subtle, as in the old version, and not in the face. David's character is realistic as weakly male of today, but Dustin Hoffman's David is much more believable as a man of softness, weakness, and moral superiority. James Marsden's David falls short. We must blame him for not adapting and standing his ground, as opposed to understanding his higher-moral obligations. On the contrary, I find Kate Bosworth's Amy to be much relevant to the story development, as compared to the slutty Susan George's character of the original. James Woods as the Coach is a pathetic old drunk, incomparable to Len Jones's deeply scary Mr. Hedden. Now, the violence. It occurs to me that simple killings of the 1971 version are real horror because the violence truly comes from inside. We all fear that fellow human beings to become that much violent to us. However, the violence of the 2011 version is commonplace, non-shocking, and failing to address the animal instinct of mankind. This is for me the remake's greatest weakness. Violence for Sam Peckinpah is a major character whom you never forget. Violence here in the 2011 version is a blowing wind that leaves no trace and footprint when it is done. Nice try, Mr. Lurie, but you still come much second to the dead dear director.

I never saw a film so simple and yet so complex at the same time. This is how sophisticated Sam Peckinpah was as director of Straw Dogs. He must have had a god-like understanding of human beings and their vulnerabilities, or Straw Dogs would have turned out a forgettable made-for-TV movie. On the contrary, the film is increasingly relevant to mankind as time goes by, surpassing even a classic branding. The story plot and the script are exceptionally well-done, as it rids the viewers of any disbelief from early on. You stop asking why they move there, why Amy Sumner chooses to conduct herself that way, why there is tension between her and the husband. Why the rape is emotionally mixed between yearning and disgust on her part, and all the rest. You subscribe to the film from the beginning, and helplessly follow them every step of the way until every bit of emotion is brutally unfolded and till tail lights of that white car disappears into the darkness. If you show this 1971 film around the US today, it would be easily alleged of campaigning for the National Rifles Association to support the rights to bear arms. It is scary to discover that violence does not have to start from your own inclination or their provocation. Violence can be a result of mutual contempt without you being conscious of helping to develop one. In this film, violence is much a combination of David, Amy, Charlie, Chris, Norman, Henry, Tom, Reverend Barney Hood, to even the lawman Major John Scott, who represents a mindset of "the law is dead". Sam Peckinpah, as this film was first released, was condemned almost unanimously by critics and viewers alike. He was accused of glorifying violence, in support of a lawless society, and in favor of Doomsday's analogies. Today we see him as a prophet who was and is wise. His analysis of social problems is second to none. You can even restructure all governments' crime-preventing policy based upon his films, particularly on this one. Someone made the right call not to try any sequels of this film. The reason is obvious: we now become the real-life sequel of David Sumner's driving Henry Niles into the dark on that fateful night.

This film is entertaining. Just imagine the character of Barry Pepper as someone else and not Ms. Patricia Highsmith's Thomas Ripley, you will be engrossed and not so disappointed. For me, I can't do that. I have already been impressed by both Matt Damon's and John Malkovich's Ripley, whose performances are so right one can't help feeling that they really play the same person at different ages, despite two completely different look and totally separate productions. I am not so sure who gets it wrong between Barry Pepper who plays him or Roger Spottiswoode the director. Thomas Ripley is not an accidental psychopath. He is a professional one who is completely conscious of all his actions and perfectly comfortable with them. He has excellent taste equipped with the vast knowledge of everything beyond his means, so he cheats, steals, and kills for such yearning. Tom Ripley never protests or acts against the mainstream. He simply has his own ways and means, and executes them rather effectively. Pepper's Ripley is not even close. His Ripley is boringly human, ordinary, and commonplace. He is supposed to be a genuinely evil spirit who lives well and excels among the sophistication of all kinds. Being an American does not stop him from being well-cultivated and subtle. Ripley's creator, Ms. Highsmith, was a big fan of him. She protested against people who made so much fuss about "a little murder" around them. See, Ripley is not a criminal but an artist of the most devious kind. This film does not get it. Furthermore, it is a poor choice of either the director or the script writer, or both, to apply comedic tone to this story. Ripley can be fun, but never comedic. Relief moments in Ripley's stories usually come with arts, good life, and stylishness. If your wish is to penetrate Mr. Ripley's mind, one of the most unique characters in the literary world, watch "The Talented Mr. Ripley" and "Ripley's Game" instead.

I was 15 years old when the film was released. I didn't get to see it then, but remembered it as a film dramatically lost so many of its Oscar nominations to Richard Attenborough's Gandhi, especially the ones for Best Actor-Paul Newman and Best Director-Sidney Lumet. I still remember the face filled with painful disappointment of James Mason, the film's nominee for Best Supporting Actor, who died shortly after the film's great success. Thirty-three years passed, and I finally got to see this film, if you can believe it. Lumet, Newman, and Mason are all dead. The mysteriously beautiful Charlotte Rampling has become an old lady, still carrying with her some mystique. Bruce Willis and Tobin Bell, who were extras in the courtroom with no dialogue, have become a major and minor great stars respectively. This Lumet's film still holds. The power and the intent are still there with little to no blemish. Even the images of outdated phones, furniture, cars, and all the rest have failed to discredit the film. We know it is an old film, but we cannot care less. The story of the verdict of a man fallen out of the main road and trying to get back, professionally and morally, is timeless. It is not as cheesy as Rocky and not as flashy as The Wrestler. It is calm, serene, constantly moving, even without one single reason why the main character should have bothered continuing. It is a very exciting non-action film. This is a life you can find around you almost on daily basis, a totally failed drunken loser, yet watching it is freshly breathtaking, like discovering something new. "The Verdict" was purposely made in the stage style: rehearsal after rehearsal, long takes and dialogues one after another, plus the virtually motionless cinematography. Brown tone of color all through the screen. All this should have bored and tired the audience to the bone. Yet we find two hours and 9 minutes of this film seamless and rather short. This is what a classic does.

The world has become very rapid with faster and faster telecommunication gadgets, and a film of good Cherry's quality like this one can't possibly get made in the pace of today's world. Yes, watching this older work of the late Sidney Lumet is like sipping a nice glass of Cherry at a most leisure moment. This film is meant to be excited, nail-biting, and thrilling at times, but the overriding quality has become that of neatness and pleasure. I believe that is when they made films simply to entertain and not to preach or to release one's political, social, or economic frustration. The director, script writer, and actors of this film made it appear easy to be an artist. One can forget what made such characters as James Mason, Simone Signoret, Maximilian Schell, Harry Andrews, Roy Kinnear, and few others to be so fondly remembered. These were talented men and women who did not try to over-advertise their performing quality. They minded their own works a lot more than undermined other people's. Information flowing across the Internet today is uglier and destructive because the changed intent of the users. Even praises and compliments are mostly of cynical nature. This film is well-told, well-paced, and truly story-oriented. Time flies with such works. My personal advice to today's human beings who forget how to be nice: watch The Deadly Affair and other films of this kind. They will soften your soul, give you back some kindness, and give you Oxygen of life. Mr. Lumet, Sir, wherever you are, have a nice Cherry!

This is what real movie-making is. Not the CGI. Not the show-off soundtrack. Not the handsome but meaningless faces of the so-called actors. Not exaggerated advertising. "Dog Soldiers" is a film made by and for horror film lovers. The script should be regarded as one of the best. Not too much but just enough explanation. Excellent paces all through. It was written, directed, and edited by the same person: Neil Marshall. The ultimate credit can't go to anybody else. Watching this film is like being told a good story by a skilled storyteller. He never raises his voice. Never uses different tones to give cheap jump scares. Never cheat. Marshall simply tells a story evenly and calmly, even at some most vivid and breathtaking scenes. His as-a-matter-of-fact tone is ultimately scary because it brings realism and horror in the face. You soon believe that this nightmare can really happen and you are so trapped you want to just let them eat you cold. The werewolves in this film are believable. Sometimes they are just animals and sometimes they are much superior than human beings. There is no wasteful part in this film and every bit gets used. "They work as a pack", said Megan. And with her statement we see the dedication of a werewolf determined to throw a dinner party for her folks, including a suggestion that they are to destroy the last hope for an escape. Only one or two scenes are really bloody and graphical. However, they stay with you, and your fears for the werewolves are imprinted, at least to the end of the film. All in all, it is a horror film without any wastes and pretence. Only the British can do. Economic or low-cost filmmaking is indeed their natural tendency.

Believe it or not... I have watched the documentary feature on life and works of this man with smiles and tears throughout. Smiles at my realization how crazily, madly, and fiercely independent Mr. Roger Corman has proudly been and how fascinating his ups and downs in his film life must have been. The man's integrity and strength deserve admiration at all levels. It can never be easy to go against an establishment for decades and to remain self-fulfilled, commercially successful, and happily married. Worse, the very establishment or Hollywood itself has to succumb when it unanimously gives him an Academy Award for Lifetime Achievement. Tears at a life of man denied his rightful place for a very, very long time. He gives birth to the likes of Martin Scorsese, Ron Howard, Jonathan Demme, Jack Nicholson, and the almost endless list of names in the 285 films he makes, and yet the father has been treated almost as an embarrassment by the children because most of his works are of exploiting nature. I find it greatly unfair and very sad. It is true that Mr. Corman himself may never have craved for meaningless glory and praises, but can't we be a little stronger and award courage and human free spirits as opposed to those bricks in the wall? I think it is appropriate for Jack Nicholson to cry during the interview because, I believe, of such hard truth. In fact, this film shows several people who look back and rediscover, after all, their deep love and gratitude to Roger Corman. It is amusing to see many of these film celebrities cracking, smilingly while doing it, at a mere mention of Mr. Corman's name, as if they feel slightly ashamed of failing early on to realize his genuine values, personal goodness and morality code, and the real contribution of him to their very lives. They almost think of him now as a father whom they disgust, ridicule, and make fun of in their previous lives. Now they know all too well from whom they obtain their secrets of success. Roger Corman is a wonderful subject matter of this wonderful, and unpretentious, film about a man who is strictly his own among the devious crowd.

This film is so delicious we can eat it, and eat it over and over again in all these years. It is not possible to catch any part of this film and not to continue watching some more or until the end. This is a storytelling of great entertaining value. More importantly, it does not play one wrong note as a political plotting, which is rare, considering how diluted it is as a hardcore political story. I believe Ivan Reitman's touch is essentially behind the successful combination. He casts, interprets the story and script, and directs quite appropriately. Kevin Kline's little reactions mean a lot to the plausibility of the story. His character is playful, delightful, and yet respectful to the presidency. A scene when he must be convinced to continue with "the act", which takes place in the Oval Office, is subtle and telling. It reveals in depth the characters of Kline's, of Frank Langella's, and of Kevin Dunn's with minimal dialogue. Sigourney Weaver's role as the First Lady is another great contribution to the story's dramatic effect. Both Kline and Weaver portray the real people behind the caricature and totally sell us as a convincing first couple and a political marriage. Even the actors of minor role are wonderfully complimentary. Charles Grodin, Ben Kingsley, Ving Rhames, Laura Linney, and Faith Prince show us that smaller roles can't limit any good actors. But the scriptwriter Gary Ross should be praised the highest. He exhibits the dramatic restraint throughout. Such restraint truly contributes to the believability of the entire story. Not too much, and quite enough. "Dave"'s script is one good piece of writing. Film students can learn a lot studying it. "Dave", all in all, is indeed the right movie at the right time, and a political parody done just right.

Simply because the personality of the actors and actresses are world-renown and well-regarded, it does not automatically spell out a good film. Instead, I find this film awkward, unrealistic, with embarrassing results in both acting and directing. While "Murder On The Orient Express" being first-rate, "Death On The Nile" being grossly entertaining, "Evil Under The Sun" and "The Mirror Crack'd" highly skillfully-told and adapted, this film becomes much too embarrassing to be included in that prestigious list. This is, I believe, a Michael Winner's work in his declining years. His eyesight must have been poorer, and his patience of getting one right take must have been paler. So many scenes are way too superficial, half-cooked, and simply unsatisfactory. The emotions portrayed are unsteady, wavering, and miss-matched. Piper Laurie as Emily Boynton is superior than others, but still much in the mud. Peter Ustinov, with his usual skilled self, is not in any way damaged, but even his performance has failed to rescue the film. The great John Gielgud is too old to even walk properly. Lauren Bacall's star aura is completely wasted. Same as David Soul and Carrie Fisher, who are not bad actors at all in other films. This Agatha Christie's adaptation is neither exciting nor grabbing. The solution at the end fails to give any impression. Even the music score is misplaced and damaging to the mood of the film. In short, it is a complete failure as an adaptation of a world-famous novel, and a major blemish to the otherwise splendid career of Mr. Winner.

Just want to state early on that this film is indeed low-cost and the production quality reflects it. Except that point, this is one of the best political films ever produced. I have been interested and studied about Mr. Richard M. Nixon, his administration, and the Watergate affairs quite thoroughly. I can judge this film to be one of the most accurate, impartial, and humanly dramatized films out there. What it is done right in the first place is to approach the story and all of the characters with compassion. There is no Republicans, Democrats, Nixon lovers, or Nixon haters when it comes to a human tragedy. This is indeed a tragedy of power and people who are enslaved by it. Richard Nixon in this film has been portrayed not as good or bad, but as a humanly flawed and indeed tragic character. In "Nixon" and "Frost/Nixon" of later years and productions, we had to be dragged back into Mr. Nixon's younger years, so we could appreciate his agonizing thirst for power and success and to understand his subsequent behavior. This film does not need to do that. Just by showing the "real-time" Nixon in scene after scene, we can relate to his pains and agony of losing power. How he most desperately wooed people towards him in order to gain their support, respect, liking, or even love is almost unbearable to watch. I for one dread Mr. Nixon's negative impact to the world around him, and yet deeply sympathize this man to the core. Lane Smith became President Richard M. Nixon without any disbelief. He must have understood his character most deeply, otherwise such a performance could never have been conceived. Other characters of Alexander Haig, J. Fred Buzhardt, Leonard Garment, Pat Nixon, Rose Mary Woods, Archibald Cox, John Sirica, etc. never physically resembled whom they played, but we subscribed to all of them because of their flawless performances. Richard Pearce's direction is also without a missed fire. Too bad it is low-cost and meant only for television consumption, otherwise "The Final Days" would have been lauded as the gold standard of the Nixon films that came and will come.

Night trains, deep woods, and a company of werewolves are good premises for a good horror. It should have worked, but it has not. The film turns out lame, ordinary, and quite flat. No visual or mental distinction of any kind. No memorable scenes. It is made to be forgettable. Watching this film, my mind wanders to "Dog Soldiers" and starts comparing them. That one is also a horror film of werewolves in the woods. The targets are soldiers and not civilians. That one works well, and this one fails quite miserably. Why? I think one of the main reasons is that "Howl" lacks boldness and intensity. The film starts fine and manages to reduce itself to a light weight until it becomes a small film. Part of the size reduction is because this bunch of filmmakers has offered nothing new to the audience, whatsoever. Being the arts or techniques of make-up, the expressed gore, the characters's depth and the study of them, the pace, and the story itself, this film just re-uses what are borrowed from other films and patches them together. A missed opportunity, I think. If I were them, I would make the maximum usage of the lighted inside and the dark outside. No one should have been allowed to feel secure with the things lurking around them. The unpredictability should be made a point of life and death, and it should have been exploited to exhaust the poor viewers they must crawl out of the theater. Otherwise it would become "Howl of The Pet Dogs" as it became.

I knew absolutely nothing about the story, the manga, or the anime on which this film is based. The trailer shows me some blood and gore, and I want to see those scenes weaved into a good story. It is also a Japanese film, so I trust the extreme nature of the filmmakers, as I trust the likes of Takashi Miike. As a result, I am not disappointed so much. The film is passable as an entertainment. Hardly a memorable film. The script could have been more decent and well-streamlined. Without a coherent and deep-enough script, the film is hopelessly fragmented, and has a feel of someone hurriedly squeezing together a few short films by different directorial hands on the same sketch of a story. I believe the filmmakers, the director and the script writer, had imagined this film in scenes, rather than a well-combined film, and had wanted to include all those scenes to create a visual impact, regardless to the story. This is why this film looks a lot better in clips and trailers, and much paler as a feature film. Youngsters today may have a shorter span of attention, but not that short. Human beings still want to be explained, or told a good story to. Tactics and techniques cannot entirely replace the age-old cave instinct. We complain that medical doctors today are so specialized they lose the big picture of a body as a human being. They fix parts and not the whole. Filmmakers, I think, are suffering much the same way. We produce more specialised fim directors and technicians, a lot better than the old days, and we have less and less of coherent, big-hearted, and passionated storytellers out there. Moral of these days and out of this film: For goodness's sake, make a coherent good-length film and not just a few clips sewn together.

This documentary has all the qualities of a good drama. It has actually dramatized the penguins' lives into those of human beings. Compassion is good. Presumption, squeezing human emotions into other species, is not. Penguins are like all creatures, big and small, in their worthiness and rights to exist in the way they want. There is no need to apply human beings' senses to them in order to gain sympathy. I admire this film's beauty and elegance in the presentation. The film's crew is most entitled to the given awards and honors. The unintentional effect, though, is a violation of nature itself. We are supposed to watch, observe, and co-exist with fellow beings in the nature if we are truly respectful of them. An early scene of the whole flock of penguins confronting a severe snow storm during the breeding is narrated as if we knew what they were and really felt. What a presumption. Old-style animal documentaries become classic works because they do not presume to know more than the eyes meet. We are freed up to develop our own understanding and, quite likely, compassion towards what we see and learn. Today's filmmakers become a man who knows too much, clotting the screen with new tools and tactics, depriving the audience their freedom and creativity. Nature ceases being nature, and a media invention is made. This is not a trend that supports the unity of living organisms. Instead, it is a forced humanization of the worst kind. We watch a documentary on Penguins to know Penguins, not knowing better of fellow human beings, which is already in abundance.

Thailand is a place of my political background. It has been shifted back and forth between half-cooked democracy and full-fledged dictatorship. King Bhumibol Adulyadej of Thailand and his network try to be perceived as impartial and above, but ultimately and stupidly sided with the latter, who preserves the monarchy's personal interests, in their narrow view, better. It is him who allows Thailand to be off the global chart, whenever his personal security seems threatened. We adopted Great Britain's parliamentary system mainly because the system allows the monarchy to co-exist, not because we believe in it. This is why a film like this one is marvelous in my eyes. No matter how playful the tone of the film is, as contrasting to the real Margaret Thatcher's seriousness, I still feel the sacredness of the parliamentary institutions and why it must be protected at all cost. All characters shown here, villainous or otherwise, are abided by such thought. Candidates can come and go, and the democratic institutions live on. This is a piece of communication that deepens the love for democracy and people's democratic traditions, without uttering the word democracy even once. This is we work so hard to ridding ourselves of those who undermine Thailand's era of infant democracy. Hopelessly shallow generals must be put back in place. The king and his nosy network must be put back in place, or risk losing it all this time. People had been too kind to them in the 1932 when a revolution took place. We allowed a snake with its backbone half-broken to crawl back and breed more little snakes over the years. Now, all the snakes have ganged up against democracy, we must study the sacredness and humour in a film such as this one and use the good blend as weapons. We do not have to agree or even like you, Mrs. Thatcher, but we respect your and your people's sense of self worthiness and make that clear in your political way.

I went to this film prepared to like it with passion, having liked some of the earlier works of Mr. Yuthlert Sippapak, the director. What's not to like? A strong sense of nostalgia, the disappearing beauty of Thailand's rural innocence, and a puppy love story. It should have made a highly watchable film. It is indeed watchable, production-wise. Cinematographic works are well-done. Same level of quality for editing and original soundtrack. Then, everything collapses. Yuthlert's past success might have given him enough confidence to advertise a self-portrait, hoping that the audience would be crazy about him as he himself probably was, having made millions for Thai film investors to justify it. Yuthlert could not have been more wrong. The film turned excessively self-indulgent from early on. It was a big- screen masturbation of a Thai film director. Flat humours are funny only for Yuthlert. Romance is romantic only for Yuthlert. Plot holes are irresponsibly left throughout the films as Yuthlert had failed to care about other people's perception of realism. Years ago, the nostalgic "Fan Chan" became unexpectedly successful. The teens of the 1980's and 1990's turned up in long cues to capture their time in capsule. I personally believe that the investors of this one film had been led to believe that they were to have another Fan Chan on their hands. Now, they should realise how unwise they had been. Yuthlert should look back with his past glory with pride, since the future is now very uncertain for him. "The Chaingkan Story" is ultimately an embarrassment of Thailand's great movie-making skills and an exceptionally stupid storytelling.

People involved with the production of this documentary understand and achieve the maturity in which not many people attain. It is that the facts of the Holocaust need no over-dramatisation at all. A simplistic and even storytelling, plus fairness and calmness, is just right, if one wants real impact for the audience. This piece of excellent journalism establishes the evolutionary nature of a thinking mind: it grows on you. Watching this documentary is comparable to hearing a politely confident voice taking us down the road we do not plan to complete the journey. Just like death camps themselves, or the mind of the Jewish and other victims at the time, people in the field did not know what they were up against. Unfortunate circumstances, at first, had led to bad, worse, and finally hopeless situation for those violated and abused at the extreme. Some people lost their sense of optimism and logical thinking. Some people firmly believed that "God" had completely forgotten this Hell on earth, or simply found it too much of a Hell to visit. I think that the producers and directors of this documentary had wanted to walk us step by step, without attempting to let us presume anything. Personal judgment at the end, therefore, is genuine. I believe it is by way of honouring this dark saga of human tragedy most properly. it is too large an issue to be pre-cooked. It must be knowledgeably and decently presented to the audience, and let that audience figure out themselves. This documentary feature has accomplished that task. People who watch would have the memories with them for life. I grew up all my life in Asia. Far away from Hell of Auschwitz and other death camps a million miles apart. Yet, I feel the feeling. I feel the historical task to do whatever I can about it. Yes, I share.

It is Spielberg's correct decision to allow characters to supersede, or at least equate to, the story itself. Not with many films you can boast that "no understanding of characters, no story". This story is one of the most intriguing ones ever filmed. But the revealing quality is even superior. From the very first scene of some Olympics athletes ignorantly helping the would-be assassins to enter the compound and subsequently executed their horrific mission, we see human faces reflecting heartiness, positiveness, deep hatred, and incredible self-absorption. The following scenes are nothing but human hearts driving the film. The script by Tony Kushner and Eric Roth should be remembered as one of the best. It attempts to tell a murky and morally ambivalent story and turns it into clarity. The final conversation between Avner and Ephraim is perhaps the only one with intentional unclear message. His "no" to breaking bread is a simply a bureaucratic way of handling such an issue, or a deep sense of disappointment and disdain? Broadly speaking, we know which direction the Jewish Steven Spielberg would lean towards. We saw "Schindler's List" and his numerous interview of guilt complex as a Jew who did too little for fellow Jews. However, he daringly made this film to be an anti-hero story. A great doubt of an eye to an eye approach of life and religion is clearly exhibited. But there is nothing that the Israelis and Jews in general can complain about. On top of all that, "Munich" is an intensely exciting film to watch. Colourful and watchable. No dull moment. All words spoken are with a purpose. Political thrillers do not usually come out any better.

I prepared to like this film because of the story concept alone. Determined and reluctant killers of the two Asian cultures meet. What's not to like? Well, there is. First, I find it harder and harder to remain attentive to the unfolding story. Over-focused on the emotional buildup, the director or the scriptwriter (or both) forgets to forward the story. It feels like watching a walking person who keeps stopping to look at his own feet instead of walking on. Frustrated at best. Second, the background of both Indonesian and Japanese characters are not adequately explained. When one brings two colorful cultures to match, probably for the first time, one doesn't leave it at a story of two psychopaths meet. Cultural back stories must be there and told to us. I believe the conceptualiser of this film wants to show us that different cultures can breed similar instinct of a psychopathic killer. Then he or she must tell the whole story in a much intertwining fashion, as opposed to two separate ones like in an anthology. Some scenes, though, are exceptional. The struggle in a taxi during a Jakarta night is dark, brutal, and real. Same as an attempt to kill of an autistic boy by a world-weary sister. Thirdly, the behavior of the Japanese character is shown to us too much, as compared to the Indonesian. Killing after killing, we do not need another one to understand his deviousness and perversion. Morale to this behind-the-scene story is: even in an internationally cooperated filmmaking, one must let one person, Japanese or Indonesian, to be in charge of the storytelling. Too much diplomacy can be tricky for the making of an art, or the would-be one.

Nothing is more heroic and more courageous than a simple person's decision to brave a much stronger world to do what he believes to be the right thing. He must face his own nervousness, instability, and fears, and he still does it unblinkingly. Here is what this documentary feature shows us through a portion of life of the 29-year-old Edward Snowden, whose revelation of the US domination in the world is only thunderous and earth-shattering. We look at the innocent and childlike face and personality of Mr. Snowden and we start to have difficulty breathing as we see extreme dangers awaiting him at every exit. The film shows us how he decides to turn his back on his job as a commissioned security specialist of the US government, determines to go public with what he knows and has in possession, and works with two veteran reporters to explain his viewpoint and action calmly and patiently, until we the viewer understand the philosophy behind his action. The film successfully protects Mr. Snowden from being demonized beyond recognition from the powers that be, who want Mr. Snowden to appear treacherous, unpatriotic, and mentally ill, in order to discredit his revelation and probably his entire life and existence. Still, Mr. Snowden, at times in tear and stressful, looks at his dangerous task in the eye. He realizes that death for him is not impossible, and he continues to assure us that others will step in and succeed him, if the succession is indeed a must. Quite serenely, the film ends in Mr. Snowden's own country. A place called uncharted territory. Thank you, Mr. Snowden, for distinguishing us human from animals.

Possibly thinking of "Shaun of The Dead", which is truly one of the kind, I finished this film silent with disappointment. A good mix of horror and comedy, for cry out loud! There are indeed a few funny scenes, especially at the beginning, and that's it. Humour never finds its way into the core story, and barely on the periphery. Some viewers may find some crude murders made fun of to be their idea of being funny. Imagine a man hung up-side-down gets slashed slowly and cruelly until his head is covered by the stream of his own blood, with cheerful music in the background. On the horror side, this film is a lot more successful than the comical one. When one must blend a sense of humour to a horrific situation, the story must be satirical, creative, and sharp as Hell. This film is not anywhere near that mark. Usually the little British films do very well in telling a good, quiet story that means a lot more. Christopher Smith should learn from those films. Before "Shaun of The Dead", there have been the likes of "An American Werewolf In London" and "Tremors" to look up to. Even New Zealand's "Black Sheep", which was released in the same year, has a few valuable lessons to offer. People who like this film seem to be anti-establishment at the outset. Killing a snobbish English person seems the delight of their day. So, keep hitting a class you so dislike, a business you so hate, and a country you so mock, it could be funny in some dry lands.

Under James Wan's direction, the Insidious franchise does not need jump scares to remind us that this is indeed a horror film. Unfortunately, this one does. Jump scares have replaced what's largely missing in this third installment: the atmosphere. The directorial secret of James Wan is the internalization of all characters, including all the ghosts. He masterfully combines feelings and visualization not much seen at the hand of western directors. The pattern is quite steady from "Saw" to "The Conjuring". Even "Death Sentence" is unusually internalized, resulting in our caring for the characters which should just die off like flies. I am not sure we can conceptualize it as "the Asian sentiment". But the likes of Ang Lee as well as current Korean and Japanese directors show us some similarity. Remember, these Asian directors tell the exact same stories already told countless times by the western ones. So, for once, it is not the story, but how it is told. I believe the world needs western rationalization and worldly accomplishments, and now it develops another need for humanization, as well as sense and sensibility, of the oriental side. Thus, the Asian remaking of the entire global film industry, or it seems. Having said all that, "Insidious 3" is highly watchable and quite decent. Yes, it is a franchise somewhat weakened, but not unrecognizable.

Sometimes I get so tired of those "stream of consciousness" films. In a better mood, I would be good enough to sit and listen calmly, as a professional and well-paid psychiatrist, absorbing all the emotional downpour and self-inflicting scars. Not all the time, though. So I really appreciate someone coming up with a good and well thought out film plot like this one. It is a pure story that carries all the weight. Even all the well-known and high-calibered actors are embarrassingly placed secondary or lower in certain cases. After the film, people would not be talking among themselves about Cusack, Liotta, Peet, Hawkes, or Vince, but the story and how it captures them. They would think and think about how they are completely deceived and tricked, and almost forget about other angles of the film. Serial murders in an isolated motel out there? No atmosphere is more typical and predictable. Then, it is not at all typical and predictable when the main actor, the story itself that is, unfolds. I saw this film a few years back and got the point, but not the delicateness of its presentation. Now, after some years and some film maturity, I notice. A film student would do himself or herself a big favor to watch this film several times to get the story and the way it is told. Some films are supposed to take us somewhere unfamiliar and yet believable. We the human beings are sometimes in need of an emotional makeover or an escapade, at least for an hour or a little longer. Too few of films today play that important role. Filmmakers use the filmmaking a little too much as a therapy for themselves and not always for the viewers. "Identity" is not even close to become a horror classic or a cult film, but it does what film lovers do: tell a good story without blinking.

We heard about Ayothya or as presently called Ayuthya of Thailand or Siam. We knew that it was a bloody period, where violent games of throne were common. What we did not know was that the massive deaths, in wars and epidemics, had lively turned into an army of flesh-eating, fast zombies. Even George A. Romero himself wouldn't have dreamed of it. It is how popularized the genre of the living dead has been to the world of entertainment. Now, is it a good match? I must say that the film is exciting and quite grabbing. Zombie effects and makeups are not inferior to any other films. But the weakness of the story, back stories, and general acting can't be ignored. It is not a well thought out script, compared to the likes of "28 Days Later", "Shaun of The Dead", or even "Evil Dead". This failure prevents us from falling harder for the characters, whom we do not really care. It is a regret. The script writer as well as the director initially provide quite a few characters which can be much developed and made the film memorable, and yet left them dried out there, almost unused. For instance, the characters of the deaf and mute service girl or the warrior who turned into a drunk, and even the forbidden love of the main couple. Introduced to us and left to die senselessly. Thai filmmakers must take a serious observation to the artistic progress of some Korean films: how they achieve the so-called commercialized art-house works by developing stories, storytelling, and the overall sophistication. Of course, notable ones like Apichatpong Weerasethakul or Pen-ake Rattanarueng need no such advice. But they are not of the mainstream of Thai movie-making. Such mainstream needs to rid itself of self-depreciation and graduate in a hurry.