Mansur Ahmed

Stanley Kubrick is known as a filmmaker who created pictures which can readily be described as cold. Of the group of movies he is most famous for, I’d say the closest thing to an emotional resolution comes at the end of A Clockwork Orange, and the nature of that resolution is quite heathenish. It explains everyone’s view that Kubrick’s perception of the world was emotionally shutoff. However, many forget Paths of Glory and its conclusion which, although forlorn, is curiously warm and affecting. Even though it ends with a song, the final moments are not optimistic by any means, nor do they provide a sense of closure. In fact, the scene at first seems disharmonious with the rest of the film, but the obscurity of it in and of itself appears to serve as a quiet discussion on the whole institution of war. Institution may not be an appropriate word, but in Paths of Glory, Kubrick is exploring the lives of men who are existing in a world of violence, and then condemned to death by the army they are serving because they have survived. It should make no sense at all, yet the entire picture painstakingly shows us how it makes perfect sense. It’s not easy to perceive these harsh truths. So Kubrick leaves us with the final note of a timid German girl singing on stage for a group of drunken, rowdy soldiers, and when she starts to sing, and when the hoots and whistles from the soldiers poignantly fade away, we are left with the sound of her sheepish voice and the German words of The Faithful Hussar. We have no clue what the scene is supposed to represent, but it certainly strikes at our emotions. (continue reading…)

In July of 2009, Michael Mann’s newest film, Public Enemies, will be released starring Johnny Depp as John Dillinger. What a sentence that is. When some people think of Michael Mann they immediately get a picture of excess in style. This is a total misconception, although his film adaptation of Miami Vice serves as perfect evidence for that argument. I don’t believe Public Enemies will have the same problems as Miami Vice since the iconic status of John Dillinger and Melvin Purvis most certainly overtakes that of Crockett and Tubbs. We can be rest assured that Enemies is a return to the richly thematic world of Michael Mann as experienced in Heat. A central idea Mann runs with in his movies is that each person is a universe unto himself. An individual is all alone behind their eyes, alone with their thoughts, and alone in their journey through existence. In Heat we get two characters who are polar opposites: one is a criminal and one is the cop chasing him. The singular connection they share is each other, likewise it is very difficult for either of them to function in the world without consideration to what the other is up to. Robert De Niro’s character understands this very well, which is why he chooses to maintain a very dogmatic way of life. Al Pacino, on the other hand, does not possess the same rigidity and allows himself to invest emotions very explosively. He can handle the consequences because he is used to living that way. Robert De Niro’s character is the more interesting of the two, and when he turns weak enough to invest his emotions, even in just a minor capacity,  it throws his entire constitution out of whack and makes him vulnerable. And in the world of Michael Mann, where fate is rendered through a system of cause and effect in direct control of the characters, vulnerability is very dangerous. (continue reading…)

Stanley Kubrick was an artist with huge ideas. When he set out to make a science fiction film, nobody could have anticipated what was coming. His subject is extraterrestrial life, but there are no depictions of humanoid aliens. There is no perfunctory dialogue to give us an exposition of the events taking place. There are no sleek flying saucers or cacophonous photon beams to jettison spacecrafts through the galaxy. Most importantly, there isn’t a fantastical narrative full of colorful planets or creatures. 2001: A Space Odyssey is not just a work of fiction, it is a work of speculation, of glorious notions, of intellectual prowess, and of tranquilizing beauty. (continue reading…)

Coraline, which is directed by Henry Selick, is based upon a wonderfully dark book by Neil Gaiman, the man behind The Sandman graphic novels as well as many other fantasy works. Words like masterpiece or classic should usually be kept in their holsters and drawn only when they are absolutely imperative to a work of art’s description, when it is difficult to describe it with conventional thought processes. Coraline is an unusual film. I can tell you it’s in the same vain as Nightmare Before Christmas or Corpse Bride, both of which are connected to Henry Selick, but Coraline is apart from those works because it will touch viewers more deeply. Like the dreamscapes of Nightmare Before Christmas and Corpse Bride, this film is cultivated within a dark and gloomy tapestry, however it is about real people and that makes its relevance to us very powerful. Its primary audience is children, which will undoubtedly cause some to question Selick’s technique, but adults will be touched by it as well because a lot of the feelings implicitly discussed in Coraline will engender pangs from the universal wounds left by childhood. (continue reading…)

Not many people would consider a comic strip to be literature, but I must confess that I do, in particular, the body of work by a Mr. Charles M. Schulz. Literature is simply works of the creative imagination, works that give us pause, make us think, and break our hearts. There are many ways to break someones heart, but the pure, unadulterated statements Mr. Schulz makes about humanity through his characters are enigmatically powerful. We begin reading the panel unsuspecting of how we will feel by the end of it. That these characters are children, and these children are so articulate and profound about human sadness, is a statement on its own. It discusses very intense themes, such as loneliness, isolation, melancholy, unrequited love, and infuses them with a lightness and laughter that somehow illuminates the bitterness of life. Peanuts is not simply a comic strip, it is one of the most thoughtful works of art ever created. (continue reading…)

Our first sight of him, he steps into the frame with his back to the camera, the explosive Masaru Sato score already telling us this figure is a force of nature. He scratches his head and swaggers with that world-weary gait in no particular direction until the opening credits finish. The score then momentarily shifts in tone, from intensity to a kind of cheerful lightness. The masterless samurai, portrayed by the venerable Toshiro Mifune, has come to a pause in his meditative stroll to pick a stick up from off the ground. He tosses it in the air and when it lands, he proceeds to walk in the direction it points. He shrugs his shoulders and introspectively squints his eyes and immediately there’s a resonance. We don’t know anything about this character, but we feel compelled to him. Mifune conveys so much in a single gesture that the sum of his gestures in just the first five minutes suffuses the ronin with a depth and vitality that does nothing but draw us in. Then he follows the stick’s desultory guidance into an iniquitous town and the real magic begins. The soundtrack reverts back to its restrained intensity and one of the first images we get is of a stray dog with a human hand in his mouth, running past Mifune. It’s just an inkling of this film’s disturbing beauty. (continue reading…)

Whenever comedians go serious, they tend to give us among the greatest of dramatic performances. Three names in particular come to mind: Jamie Foxx, Jim Carrey, and Robin Williams. There is a very intense vulnerability in all comedians. It’s an important quality because the greatest comedy is raw, often observational about very awkward and uncomfortable truths. To make us laugh about these things, an individual has to put themselves on the line, to be willing to risk making a fool of oneself. Many of us know what it feels like to be embarrassed, especially in front of a large group of people. It’s usually a traumatic experience and the average person may recoil from ever putting themselves into similar circumstances for quite some time, if ever again. A comedian isn’t perfect overnight. A comedian isn’t perfect at all. To get up on stage and tap into the uncouth segments of an entire audience of people’s personality takes years of practice and failure. Comedians aren’t ordinary people. They need a strong will to fight through all the hopelessness and self-doubt, and these kinds of experiences and feelings, and a comedian’s willingness to confront these feelings head on in an attempt to stave them off, must bring them to a deeper, more intimate understanding of oneself. So it’s no doubt comedians are geniuses of the acting craft. Acting isn’t just about doing an impersonation of a character, it’s about being a translator for the character’s emotions. Who better equipped to make the examination of a personality than those of whom are already experts in the darker side of human nature? (continue reading…)

There’s been a lot of talk about a shift in mindset of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. In the past couple of years, their choices have seemingly veered towards more obscure and independent films, but I don’t think there’s been any shift. The Academy is simply acknowledging the best films of the year. I can tell you that none of the films nominated in 2009 are obscure as I was able to conveniently find a cinema to watch them in. And my motivation to watch these movies arose from what I’d heard about them readily in newspapers, on television, and of course, the Internet. Smaller films have been acknowledged in the past. Driving Miss Daisy was no huge, glamorous blockbuster. Silence of the Lambs was a relatively small film also. Fargo was nominated back in 1997. Back in 1970, MASH was not given the same attention its studio was giving to Patton, and although Patton ultimately won the Oscar, MASH was recognized with a nomination. A few years later, Taxi Driver was nominated when Martin Scorsese was still somewhat obscure. Of course, if people are referring to this year’s Oscar choices as being small moneymakers, I think the issue is with the average cinemagoer and their preference of films. However, I do feel the Academy made a very big mistake with their exclusion of The Dark Knight. Although Slumdog Millionaire might be the best film, I had anticipated watching the Academy Awards doubtful of which movie would take home the trophy. That’s not going to happen now. At least they got it right with Heath Ledger’s nomination. (continue reading…)

The short film Vincent, created by Tim Burton while he was a conceptual artist for Disney, is perfection. It must be obvious, despite its overtly dramatic and macabre nature,  that this is a highly autobiographical work. Not autobiographical in events, I don’t believe Tim Burton has dipped his aunt in boiling wax, but autobiographical in feelings. Because of this, the film is universal and speaks to all of us whether we realize it or not. For some, it may take a stretch to recognize the base similarities between what Vincent (a.k.a. Tim Burton) feels and what every other person on this planet will experience more often than they choose to acknowledge. I am of course referring to our feelings of alienation from the external world. Vincent finds solace in his imagination, fueled by the baroque of Vincent Price and Edgar Allan Poe. He embraces madness and torment as a kind of catharsis. And watching Burton’s film should give us a certain cathartic release. However, it might be presumptuous to believe everybody will respond to it the same way I have. For all intents and purposes, movies are like Rorschach tests. It would be particularly interesting to gage different people’s reactions to Vincent. Regardless, the title character struggles through considerably intense bouts of darkness and gloom, and at the center of his melancholy lies a very thoughtful examination of loneliness and isolation. (continue reading…)

The film adaptation of what can be considered Alan Moore’s magnum opus, Watchmen, is just around the corner. Moore’s rich oeuvre has not just cemented his authority in the realm of comic books, but the themes and commentaries of his work have also established him a visionary with a very unique perspective about humanity. Watchmen will be the fourth adaptation of one of his graphic novels, and while it seems to be given the expensive treatment it deserves, I’m not sure how great it’s going to be. Moore himself has made a habit of distancing himself from the films of his books, understandably so. Two of them are good in their own right, whereas the one in the middle, the godawful League Of Extraordinary Gentlemen, is nothing but a brutal assault on the imagination of Alan Moore. While From Hell and V for Vendetta were good films, I don’t understand why the filmmakers always stray so much from the source material as adhering to it may well have elevated the movies to a high degree of complexity and excellence. From Hell was so different that I felt it should have been marketed as a separate film about Jack the Ripper. V for Vendetta followed the basic narrative of Moore’s book, but made a completely different discussion than he did. Moore was discussing anarchy and fascism. The movie talks more about liberalism and neo-conservatism. It was still amazing and very relevant to our modern climate, but having read the graphic novel, I was a little disappointed in the drastic transformation of content. Nonetheless, most of the action remained accurate. I have a bad feeling the action might be the only aspect the filmmakers of Watchmen have set their focus on. At least with Vendetta, while departing from the source’s ideas, the screenwriters brought their own intriguing ideas to the table. The writers were the Wachowski Brothers so it’s no surprise. But the makers of Watchmen are the same bunch behind 300. I might be one of the few who wasn’t very fond of 300. I had no problem with the visual dazzle and focused direction. It was the writing. I have not read the source material by Frank Miller so I might be out of my element in criticizing the movie. I just felt it was turbocharged in gore and less in concept. If it’s any indication about what kinds of films Zack Snyder wants to make, I don’t think he’s the right director for Watchmen. (continue reading…)