POMO

Tim Burton (Batman) and Bryan Singer (X-Men) had it easier. Their comic-book movies were interesting because of their production design, atmosphere and the related ability to draw us into “other worlds”. Raimi’s Spider-Man has none of that. After it ended, I couldn't remember a single scene that had put me in a state of ecstasy as a viewer. Tobey Maguire portrayed the character’s transformation flawlessly, but Kirsten Dunst is too ordinary for this kind of movie. And the Green Goblin character isn’t a scary villain, but an unfortunate wreck with a bigger problem with his own identity than he has with Spider-Man himself. The film has either a distinctive visual concept nor well-developed characters. What it does have is a predictable story, worthy of a 40-minute episode of a TV series, stretched out to two hours. Spider-Man is filmed elegantly and doesn’t suffer from popcorn silliness. But it’s just an overblown bubble that, when it bursts, dissipates like a puff, leaving nothing behind.

John Q. is a simple, formulaic Hollywood flick about a father who is willing to do whatever it takes to get his son on the list of organ-donation recipients. It’s an overwrought sentimental fable that tries to move you with an ocean of moralistic, good-hearted ideas and fails miserably when it comes to intellect. And I won’t even comment on its disgusting rip-off of Gavras’s Mad City.

A very bad low-budget, made-for-TV clone of the Australian thriller Dead Calm.

Dracula is an exemplary case of the victory of form over substance. It’s as if Francis Ford Coppola tried to translate Stoker’s fantasy into evocative cinematic images in the most credible and effective way, but he forgot about the characters and the story itself. In terms of its visual and musical aspects, the film is captivating. The production design, costumes, the cinematographer’s work with shadows and the individual surrealistic scenes are all in perfect harmony with Wojciech Kilar’s unique music. And that cast! Keanu Reeves as the elegant Jonathan, Winona Ryder as the fragile Mina, Anthony Hopkins as the demonic Van Helsing, Tom Waits as the “insectophile” Renfield, and mainly Gary Oldman as the repulsive but mesmerizing Count Dracula…it’s as if all of them were born for their respective roles. But regardless of how captivating it all looks and sounds, the plot lacks the heart of the story, the spirit that, despite my knowledge of the material, could draw me into the action for two hours and take my breath away. Dracula is a gothic horror movie based on a classic story during which I wouldn’t be disturbed by the munching of popcorn. That would not be the case at all with, for example, Herzog’s Nosferatu.

Whereas in Alien Ridley Scott pitted defenceless explorers against an invisible threat, in the sequel James Cameron pitted well-armed Marines against a swarm of threats that are visible in all their “beauty”. He replaced disarming fear with disarming adrenaline-fuelled action. In relation to the first film, Aliens could be faulted for its lack of horror intimacy, but here the director replaces that with a cannonade of great ideas, a brilliant plot packed with unparalleled scenes, and his usual technical perfection. It’s an exemplary sci-fi spectacle full of action and suspense that makes your blood run cold. In the context of the genre, giving it anything less than five stars would be an act of barbarism. P.S.: The Director’s Cut, in which we follow the inhabitants of the base before Ripley’s crew lands on the planet, definitely does not detract from the film’s suspense and mystery (“What happened here?’), but rather stylizes those aspects in a different context (“What happened to them?”). And it gives some of the plot elements a broader meaning.

The tension of rivalry between John Travolta and Christian Slater doesn’t reach the massive proportions found in Woo’s similarly conceived Hong Kong classics, and in places the whole film slides from healthy good humor into unhealthy silliness. But the attractively sun-drenched setting in the Utah desert, Hans Zimmer’s dynamic score, the badass Hummers and Travolta’s bastard Vick Deakins are enough ingredients for two hours of decent action entertainment.

One star for the cool Kyle MacLachlan and the second for the shag in the swimming pool.

What can I write about this film if I don’t want to just dryly pull out all of the superlatives and assign them to every single component of its filmmaking? Welles had Citizen Kane, Coppola The Godfather, Kubrick A Space Odyssey and Spielberg has Schindler’s List. Portrayed by Ralph Fiennes, Amon Goeth is the personification of the collapse of the human spirit responsible for the greatest tragedy in our history. John Williams’s score is the pinnacle of contemporary film music, cinematographer Janusz Kaminski is an idol to me as a lover of black-and-white composition and the extermination of the Krakow ghetto is one of the most horrifying scenes that I have ever witnessed in a film. With Schindler’s List, Steven Spielberg fulfilled the purpose for which he became a director. And I would love to frame every shot from it and I wish that I could turn back time and prevent the events on which it is based.

Everyone expected a serious sci-fi movie in the spirit of Schaffner’s original and Tim Burton tricked them by turning the subject into a joke. The film’s biggest stars are not the humans, but the apes, and the conclusion isn’t shocking and thought-provoking, but popcorn fun. The spark in the love triangle between the American hero Mark Wahlberg, the chimpanzee with beautiful eyes played by Helena Bonham Carter, and simple Barbie Estella Warren is as irresistible as Tim Roth is repulsive in the role of General Thade. The film offers brilliant technical execution, verve and action, as well as a helping of ironic humor. I applauded and laughed with gusto at the end. And I almost fell in love with the eyes of Carter’s chimpanzee character, who was prominently featured on my desktop for months after the premiere. Don’t take this film so seriously. Times are changing and not everyone needs to see the story of Planet of the Apes the same way Schaffner did.

“No growth without assistance. No action without reaction. No desire without restraint. The world is full of tigers and dragons.” The first viewing was for acclimatization, full of wonder and slight uncertainty. The second was for accepting the rules that formed the foundation of the previously unseen world of the film. And the third through fifth viewings comprised the most spiritual and moving emotional experience that I have ever had in front of a movie screen. But rather than a film, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is an epic cinematic poem that I can watch again and again, and that, like good music, never loses any of its impact. Ang Lee took the motifs of unrequited love, betrayal and responsibility and set them in a socially neutral, spiritually pure environment in which he could give them previously unseen dimensions. The “I’ve already wasted my whole life...” scene will resonate with me forever.