Getting My Feet Wet - Reflecting on This Year's Toe Dipping

For four months out of this year, I have dedicated myself to exploring movies that I wouldn't normally take a look at. They made a huge gap in my movie watching, and I thought it was time to fill those gaps. In June, I checked out French New Wave. The month after that, I looked at Anime films - which was super helpful considering I'm going to Japan next month/year. I took a break over August and September when I took a couple of breaks from blogging, but in October I was back into it with Horror films. Last month I took a deeper look into Nicolas Cage's filmography. They're all wildly different movies, but I thought I may as well rank them from worst to best, just to show how these new discoveries panned out for me. So here are all 34 movies, ranked:

34. The Wicker Man (2006), Dir. Neil LaBute - Obviously. Although Nic Cage in a bear suit is probably going to be the most memorable experience I'll have of 2012 through the eyes of movies.
33. Gone in 60 Seconds (2000), Dir. Dominic Sena - Purely because that car-themed sex scene between Nicolas and Angelina Jolie. It was the most awkward thing ever.
32. Ghost Rider (2007), Dir. Mark Steven Johnson - Nicolas as a fearless stuntman? Yeah...no.

Dipping My Toes in Horror: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Poltergeist

Honestly, this month has gone on forever. It seems like years ago that I saw The Cabin in the Woods and The Evil Dead, and a whole lot of the other horror films I caught up with this October. I'm finishing the month off with an unintentional Tobe Hooper double-feature: his 1974 gorefest The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and his 1982 ghost story Poltergeist. Then we'll get to my overview of the month, and what's in store for next month. (just a note: my monthly review will be up tomorrow because, come on, I had to do a horror film post on Halloween!)

I have filed The Texas Chainsaw Massacre away into the pile of films that I don't ever want to think about again. And hey, that's a pretty select few. Maybe that's because I watched it late on a Friday night, when I was practically drunk from sleep-deprivation (yes, I'm a teenager). Or maybe because wholey mother of crap, what the hell was going on in this movie.

Chainsaws terrify me.

I mean, I know that I've been spending this entire series going on about how witches terrify me, and black-and-white terrifies me, and pumpkins terrify me...well, I gotta say, chainsaws take the cake. Honestly, I was terrified of getting my two arm casts off because of the chainsaw they use. And then I saw this movie, and now I can't listen to that grating sound without hearing "death death death".

Dipping My Toes in Horror: The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and Halloween

Wow, we're a week out from Halloween. I really wish we celebrated this holiday more in NZ, because I love dressing up and stuff. Since it is on a Wednesday this year, I suppose we won't be dressing up at work for the weekend. Which is a damn shame. However, in the lead up to Halloween, I have had plenty to keep my scary senses warm. The latest dosages of scares have come from 1920 silent film The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (I'm still expanding those horror horizons...) and 1978 slasher flick Halloween. Here's how they worked out for me:

I have a confession: things generally scare me more if they're in black-and-white. Black-and-white can hide so much clarity, which makes things quite vague, which in turn makes things terrifying. Add in some jerky camera movements and the old-school techniques from the 1920s, and my paranoia scale is sure to go up a few levels. The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari is a pioneering movie: it is said to have introduced the "twist ending" to cinema, it uses a unique expressionist style, the sets are abstract paintings set onto canvases. Even though it was made 98 years ago, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari scares with its unforgiving atmosphere. The sets may not display the most detail or go into many dimensions, but the sheer obviousness of it gives the film a surreal edge, fitting with the major themes of the movie. The film is based around Dr. Caligari (Werner Krauss), who keeps a near-silent sleep-walker, Cesare (Conrad Veidt) in a cabinet, and uses him as a sideshow attraction. Just like Nosferatu two years later, Cesare was brought to terrifying life (or lack of life, as it were) by make-up trickery that doesn't seem to work as well these days. Cesare, with his dark eyes, dark hair and jerky movements, is one of the scariest figures I've seen on film. Almost as scary as dear old Nosferatu. No-one could make a scary figure like these guys did back in those days. Because these days, we're all about the 'scary' figures that you can't see (I'm looking at you, Paranormal Activity).

Dipping My Toes in Horror: The Blair Witch Project and Sweeney Todd

Giving you a break from the literal stories of my life, it is time to dip my toes into horror some more. The two films I have got on tap tonight are a couple which I've always been meaning to see, but have never quite got around to it. They've always been there, but I've just never bothered to pick them up. You may not see Sweeney Todd as a quintessential horror film. Mind you, it isn't a quintessential musical, either. I've been telling everyone that I was going to see it for ages, but when it stared back at me on that horror shelf, I saw that there was no time like the present. Same goes for The Blair Witch Project. So let's get to it!

So, if I'm getting my stories straight, The Blair Witch Project started this whole found footage phenomenon. I'm not big on that phenomenon, especially because now everyone is trying their hand at it and it is losing its sheen. Paranormal Activity was okay, but Paranormal Activity 2 was one of the more boring films I've ever seen. It was kinda just an excuse to watch surveillance footage for ages and then we get some people getting dragged around for like, five seconds. And that's the template that most of these found footage films follow. The Blair Witch Project, however, was quite effective even though it had so little going on. I guess it just kinda taps into your fears - and that fear happens to be getting lost in the woods. Even if there wasn't some creepy witchcraft stuff going on, then I would still be terrified. Mainly because I'd be frustrated beyond all recognition. That's where The Blair Witch Project wins over Paranormal Activity - these people are trapped in this foreign land with no hope of getting out, whereas the people in Paranormal Activity are within the confines of their own home. There's just that extra air of unpredictability about the whole thing.

Dipping My Toes in Horror: Scream and Suspiria

One thing that I just realised in this past week is that there are five Wednesdays this month, as Halloween is coincidentally on a Wednesday (talk about a nice way to wrap things up). That means that I have an extra week to catch up with two more horrors, bringing this months tally up to ten horror films. Which is a good thing, since there's so many that I want to see. Still, I need some recommendations. C'mon, people! Anyway, this week on tap we have the 90s horror/comedy Scream and Dario Argento's 70s classic Suspiria.

I love movies that reference other movies endlessly, are completely self-aware, and don't really take themselves all that seriously. It is a pretty tough task to do that all so well, but Scream just about has it down pat. Starting off with the famous phone call that ensures the demise of Drew Barrymore, we're introduced to a killer who likes to ask his future victims if they like scary movies. There's a bit of chatter about scary movies, and then the real scares go on. It has a fairly basic premise, harking back to the popular teen slasher movies that went before it. And yeah, it is quite effective.

Dipping My Toes in Horror: The Cabin in the Woods and The Evil Dead

I know I said that I wasn't going to review The Cabin in the Woods. But then it dawned on me that we're into October, and two months ago I promised that I'd do some more toe dipping this month. Originally I wasn't going to keep that promise, as these toe dipping months are kinda exhausting, but yesterday I realised that it was indeed October, and Halloween happens at the end of the month. Having seen both The Cabin in the Woods and The Evil Dead just recently, I decided that this was perfect timing. Plus, I've always meant to get into more horror, even though I think it is a ghastly genre. The Cabin in the Woods seems like a pretty funny way to do some toe dipping (okay, the phrase 'toe dipping' is starting to sound exceedingly dodgy), but as I said, this is kinda last minute stuff. And it had me scared shitless, so I suppose it did what it was supposed to do.

Anyway, so chances are you've seen/discussed/analysed/had enough of The Cabin in the Woods. And because of that fact, I honestly have no idea of what I can say about the film. So here's my list of scattered thoughts (spoiler-iffic, but most of you have probably seen it because you don't live in New Zealand):
-Yeah, Joss Whedon is pretty cool.

Dipping My Toes in Anime: Spirited Away and Akira

And here we are, closing out another month of dipping my toes in one of my cinematic grey areas: the beautifully magical world of anime. I'm ending things with Spirited Away, which I probably should have started with since it's one of those 'gateway' anime films, and Akira, which I deliberately left until last because it's one of those animes that need a little background. Did the month end on a high note, though?

I must admit, my watch of Spirited Away wasn't as good as it could have been. I sat down to watch it on Friday night, but then the news struck about the shootings in Aurora and I couldn't bring myself to keep watching the film. The next day, I sat down to watch it again, only just making it through. My mind was trying to process everything that had gone awry in the world, so I had the attention span of Dory from Finding Nemo. I know, it is a downright shame, and I'd love to see Spirited Away a little further into the future when I'm not so damn angry with the world. That said, it was a very good film.

In fact, Spirited Away is one of the reasons why I have taken to anime a lot more than I thought I would. I wouldn't say that this film is primarily made for kids, but I'm sure it was made with kids in mind. Instead of alienating kids with OTT characters obsessed with being simple, Spirited Away tells a rich, layered story of a young girl taken to a strange alternate world where humans are animals and gods, witches and monsters rule. It takes a fairytale and puts this strange spin on it. Strange being the operative word, because this film goes in several directions that you would never think it would. However, there's not much more I can say about this that hasn't already been said, apart from the fact that the visuals are so simply beautiful. And that I'd love to see it again in the future. It looks like it has that rewatch quality.

Dipping My Toes in Anime: Paprika and Millennium Actress

The anime month keeps on rolling, this week focusing on a couple of films by Satoshi Kon. I've already checked out Perfect Blue (which was not only the first anime I ever saw but also one of the awesomest), so I was looking to back that up with Paprika and Millennium Actress. Spirited Away and Akira will be coming up next week, probably a day late due to availability. Anyway, the week at hand...

I guess you could say I chose Paprika as part of my mini anime syllabus because when I said that Inception seemed original to me, I got a few hate-filled comments about how Paprika looked at dream space before it. To be honest, I didn't like Paprika more than Inception. In fact, the gap is so wide there's probably ten layers of dream space between them. It was a little more Strange Days than Inception to me, but that's just the way I saw it. Paprika is an imaginative little film, but sometimes it's imagination runs a little too far ahead of itself. Which doesn't make for the most clear watch, as I often found myself a little confused by the erratic shifts of action. That said, it's imagination is something that should be admired.

Basically, the large majority of the film takes part in a dream. There's a new gadget making the rounds called the 'DC Mini' (which did remind me of the SQUID device in Strange Days, which also recorded stuff, hence my comparison), which a therapist uses for her patients. However, when the thing gets out, the therapist tries everything in her power to not let anyone fall victim to some of the dangers that the DC Mini comes along with. That part of the story is quite interesting, but then the film kinda goes crazy with the dream space, with several scenes of large dolls parading through the street all the time. Everything whirred around in my head at about a thousand miles and hour, which made me a little light-headed. There was a lot to take in, but sometimes there was too much to take in. It just felt like one of those cases where the story looked better on the script than it did on film. However, on film, there were some great visuals that made Paprika something special. Who knows - I'll probably like it more on a second watch. But that movie just about blew up my brain, and I can't decide whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Dipping My Toes in Anime: Grave of the Fireflies and The Girl Who Leapt Through Time

It seems that y'all love anime. I don't try to pay attention to such things, but waking up to (a record, I'm sure) 18 comments that were put in overnight was quite a pleasant surprise. However, there's a downside to that: you all recommended some great films, but there's no way I can dip my toes in all of them. All's not that bad, though: in the future, I'll be able to get my feet wet with anime (ba dum psh). Anyway, here's the other four films that I'm going to check out before the end of this month: Spirited Away, Millenium Actress, Akira and Paprika. If you're favourite is not in there, I'm sorry, but those are the four I want to see the most. Now, onto Grave of the Fireflies and The Girl Who Leapt Through Time...

When I watched Toy Story 3 for the first time, people wondered why I cried so much. How could a teenage girl cry during an animated film? Because even animated films have the capacity to get the waterworks going. Which sounds like an understatement when applied to Grave of the Fireflies. Basically, the film follows Setsuko and his little sister Seita who are in the midst of World War II. When their mother is killed in an air raid, they are sent to live with some relatives, but they do not get along with each other. The two decide to move out on their own, and seek residence at an abandoned bomb shelter. While they're free and have the ability to do whatever they want, they also have to keep food in their bellies and learn how to survive on their own accord. Being two young kids who have probably not spent that much time alone, they have a lot to learn - unfortunately, their current condition isn't the best time to be learning that sort of stuff.

This is possibly one of the most beautiful, yet totally sad stories ever committed to film. When Setsuko and Seita first go to the bomb shelter, we feel sure that they'll be able to make their own way. However, that's just the way we'd think: we have probably all been living in the security of older, much more able people who have the means to look after and protect us. Even though I'm on the precipice of leaving home and making my way out of that security, while I'd relish in the freedom, I can't imagine being on my own. That's what I found so heart-breaking about Grave of the Fireflies - Setsuko and Seita wanted to prove everyone wrong, but they just weren't ready for full-blown independence. And it only gets worse: there's a war going on. Sure, we have our Saving Private Ryan's and the like to show us all the horrors of the war, but Grave of the Fireflies is definitely one of the most effective. No, Setsuko and Seita aren't fighting in the war - they're fighting the effects of the war. And that's something that we rarely see in films that tackle the war, yet something that I find just as horrifying. If you haven't seen Grave of the Fireflies yet, then what else can I say? Grab some tissues and witness one of the most beautiful animated films ever made.

Dipping My Toes in Anime: My Neighbour Totoro and Howl's Moving Castle

There's nothing like setting up little challenges like this in order to get the job done! After having a month filled with French New Wave films, I'm onto something that might be a little happier - Anime films. Now this is one giant gaping hole in my movie knowledge, because before I decided to take on this challenge, I had only seen one anime film. Which is a little sad. But there's no time like the present to change all of that, so here are my takes on My Neighbour Totoro and Howl's Moving Castle...

I really don't know how to start off my review of My Neighbour Totoro other than by saying this: I wish I had watched this movie when I was a kid. There's something about the sheer fantastical nature of it that got right into the little kiddie spot that's still reserved in my heart and tugged on it for the whole time. I mean, how could you not feel all mushy inside from it? There is so much mushy-ness! Like:
-Mei, the younger sister, who I seriously want as my kid. She's just the cutest little ball of innocent youth that I've ever seen.
-Totoro! I must admit, I used to have make-believe characters as my friends when I was a kid. Totoro was the figment of my imagination that I totally missed. I mean, how awesome is Totoro? He's this giant teddy bear that only has a leaf on his head for protection from the rain. Forget Forrest Gump, this is the kind of thing that warms my heart.
-THE CAT BUS! I admit to being a major cat lover but how awesome is that cat bus?! Like, I wanna drive it and I hate driving almost as much as I hate earthquakes (as last night's full blown panic attack where I nearly hyper-ventilated to death - and it didn't even do any damage - would show), so that's kind of a big deal. Whoever invented the cat bus deserves a Nobel Prize or something.
...and this is why you should never let me review kids films.
Especially great ones, like My Neighbour Totoro. The only disappointment that I felt about it was that I never got to see this when I was younger. When characters are that rich and detailed, and the problems they face are true (the poor girls having to deal with their mother being in hospital and all), I can't think of anything better to fit into a young person's film diet.

Dipping My Toes in French New Wave: Hiroshima Mon Amour and Jules and Jim

It has been a fun month of getting into French New Wave, but I must admit, it kinda ended with less power than it did when I started. Hiroshima Mon Amour and Jules and Jim, the last films I watched for the series, were unfortunately the worst of the selection that I'd seen. That's not to say that they were bad, they just finished last. Anyway, my (brief) takes on the two, followed by my evaluation here...

The last time I saw a film by Alain Resnais, I was scarred for life. In fact, I watched Night and Fog a whole year ago and every time I think of it, my skin crawls. So I was a little weary about Hiroshima Mon Amour, one of the earliest New Wave films, but thankfully there was little scarring on this movie's part. Instead, this is a film about a French actress (Emmanuelle Riva, who is currently gracing screens in Michael Haneke's acclaimed Amour) and a married Japanese architect (Eiji Okada) who have an affair, but no that they'll have to part ways in a very short amount of time. The film is basically a compilation of the conversations they have over the 36 hours that they are together, which are mostly based around the idea of the limits of memory. While I am a self-confessed fan of hearing people talk, this film, for some reason or another, frustrated me. I'm not sure why that was, as the words said were beautiful - I guess it was either the fact that I was exhausted or I just couldn't really connect to what was going on. Aside from that, it was beautifully made (which I think is just a given because all New Wave films have such brilliant ways of expressing themselves). Also, the opening was great - even though it is different from Night and Fog, I could see how Resnais was building on what he'd done there with a mix of clips revolving around the terrible events of Hiroshima. Certainly something that I wasn't expecting, but Resnais does that sort of thing well.

Dipping My Toes in French New Wave: Vivre Sa Vie and Au Hasard Balthazar

This week brought another Godard film, and a donkey film from Robert Bresson. This month is going faaaaaaaaast, and I'm sad that I only have two spots left to fill. French New Wave makes me happy, which is kinda funny because all of the films have been sad. I'm definitely enjoying this little marathon...

That's two out of two for Godard so far. While I really enjoyed Breathless, Vivre Sa Vie has been the stand out for me. It is told in twelve chapters, as it follows young Nana (Anna Karina) and her descent into prostitution. Breathless was a film that was dripping with style, but Vivre Sa Vie had that one extra factor that made it more interesting to watch. First of all, I loved Anna Karina. She just oozed this air of style from the way her eyelashes batted about and her hair formed that spectacular bob on her head - basically, she was my idea of everything stylish from the 60s. Plus, that dancing scene of hers completely one me over. The story that she performed was devastating, though. Nana was such a sweet, quite naive girl who needed to make ends meet, which unfortunately turned her to doing something that extreme. However, Godard doesn't handle the prostitution as a way of making us feel only pity for Nana. We're drawn into her world, where we find out the ins and outs of the job, and how the people doing it interact with each other. Again, it is the documentary feel that Godard achieved with Breathless, and achieved with this one, too. Instead of making this an overly melodramatic film about a woman's sad descent into something she does out of desperation, it is basically a close up on what can happen to a person. A real person. Not a movie character.

One of the things I loved the most about this film, though, was how philosophical it was. There was one particular chapter towards the end which had Nana talking to an old man at a restaurant. I can't really explain how wonderful this scene is - just the words thrown back and forth are so beautiful, so meaningful, and so interesting. In fact, I really want to get a transcript of this conversation to read every single day for the rest of my life, just to remind me of the little things I always forget. And at least six times a year I want to revisit this film to remind me of everything else that I always forget. It's that amazing.

Dipping My Toes in French New Wave: The Umbrellas of Cherbourg and Breathless

It has been an interesting week since my first entry, with lots of people answering my call and recommending lots of New Wave flicks. Super happy about it, guys, but the unfortunate thing is that I won't be able to watch everything you recommend by the end of the month. I only have eight spots, and half of them have been filled already! However, I'll continue on this education in the many years of life I still hopefully have to live. Anyway, this week's pickings were the musical The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, and Jean-Luc Godard's Breathless.

I consider myself to be quite the fan of musicals. Sure, 80% of them are really cheesy, but if the cheese is melted you right, I can't think of anything more fun. Then there's the other side to musicals: you know, Les Misberables, The Phantom of the Opera etc. These films bring sadness to songs, making heartache mean something so different. And you know what? I love it just as much as I love to see people dancing around in buses in the middle of the day. The Umbrellas of Cherbourg is unlike anything I've seen before, though. This film does not have a spoken word of dialogue: everything is sung. I was very confused as to whether this was a New Wave film, since it didn't really look like any of the other ones, but then I realised that it was quite an experiment. It was very hard to get into the fact that no-one was going to just talk to each other, but once I came around, this more was a brilliant experience. As brilliant as it was, though, it was absolutely devastating.

The basic story is that young Geneviève (Catherine Deneuve, who is like my new favourite actress), who lives with her mother at an umbrella shop, secretly falls in love with Guy (Nino Castelnuovo), which her mother disapproves of. Guy is sent off to war, and when he leaves Geneviève discovers that she is pregnant. While he is gone, the wealthy Roland Cassard (Marc Michel) falls in love with her, and offers to marry her and bring the child up as his own. The film is absolutely heart-breaking. And it is simple heart-break, too, which is made even more heart-breaking by the way song and music is weaved into the plot. In fact, just thinking about it now makes my heart hurt a little. However, while the film is doused in sadness, it is extremely beautiful to look at. The 60's were such a colourful era, and director Jacques Demy uses colour to it's full extent. The art direction is beautifully bright and vibrant - for example, the house that Geneviève and her mother live in is filled with pastel pinks and purples, instead of boring creams like most houses. My eyes had a love affair with this movie. Which makes it the ultimate paradox: even though this movie made me hopelessly sad, I am helplessly in love with it.

Dipping My Toes in French New Wave: Cleo from 5 to 7 and The 400 Blows

I like to think I've dipped my toes into most things by now, but then I remember there are several sub-genres that have eluded me. One of which is the French New Wave. To tie in with the LAMB's Foreign Chops for the month, I've checked out a couple of definite New Wave films: Cleo from 5 to 7 and The 400 Blows. Throughout this month, I'll be watching a few more New Wave flicks and checking in every Wednesday to let you know how I'm going. Just think of this as a 'wider film education for a 16 year old who has nothing better to do'...

The main reason I saw Cleo from 5 to 7 was because it was directed by a woman. Call me strange or whatever, but whenever I watch a film directed by a woman, I feel a sense of pride (even when I'm watching Mamma Mia). However, there was a certain sense of pride that I felt while watching Cleo that I definitely didn't feel whilst watching Mamma Mia. This film was just indescribably great. It takes place in real time, starting from 5pm. It follows beautiful singer Cleo (Corinne Marchand) throughout an hour and a half of her life, as she waits to find out the diagnosis of her cancerous tumour and whether it is fatal. From the get-go, this film seemed pretty much perfect for me: I have a major weakness for these simple films where we observe a certain character going through life. This one is a step ahead of the other ones I've obsessed over in the past. For one thing, it is French, and I can't help it if I fall in love with anything from that country. Another thing is that it is so goddamn beautiful. However, the thing I liked the most was that this film started off in colour - and it had every reason to go on that way - but Agnes Varda chose to film the rest in black-and-white. Glorious black-and-white. From there, everything is more beautiful, more eerie, more feeling. Just the way I like it.