eli, eli, lema sabachthani?

AD 2015. The world’s major cities are decimated by a terrible plague, a highly contagious virus that fills those it infects first with unbearable dread, then with overwhelming despair. A fatal disease, without cure. The Lemming Syndrome. In an isolated country mansion, two musicians – Mizui and Asuhara – live in seclusion, devoting themselves to the creation of pure sound far from the trappings of fame and success they knew in the corrupt and dangerous city. They are visited by an ageing plutocrat, his desperately sick daughter and a detective, who believes that in the music made by Mizui and Asuhara lies the seed of hope that the old man’s daughter can be saved. In the vast, changeless stillness of nature, the musicians begin to play…

A friend linked me to this video excerpt of it and, if you know my musical tastes, you will instantly understand why I wanted to watch the movie. And I’m honestly quite glad I did, as it’s a beautiful movie.

It’s not for everyone, no: not only is it riddled with large amounts of “annoying” noise/non-music, but it’s also one of those dreaded “art films” and, while it isn’t as bad as some other films (where nothing happens at. all.), it’s not exactly a hugely eventful film either, being slow-paced throughout. There’s not much in the way of a plot (but it’s not devoid of one, either), action or eye-catching performances, and there’s not even that much dialogue.

What it does have, however, is beauty. Lots of it.

The cinematography and camerawork is, simply put, beautiful. The settings and locations used in the film are beautiful enough on their own, but the scenes and the way said scenes are shot and visually constructed take it to another level. This film manages to make the sight of two men cycling down a deserted road in the middle of the day beautiful, and if that’s not a good sign, I don’t know what is.

And then there’s the noise music aspect of it, which is what drew me to the film in the first place. The duo of Mizui and Asuhara are musicians, alright, and one of them plays the guitar, but if you expected them to be a troubadour duo or maybe a rock band, then you’d be sorely mistaken. What they make is noise, and lots of it. Commendably good noise, too, from the harsh racket during the duo’s live performance to that piece in the video I linked to. It’s a joy to listen to, and also a joy to actually see what is being manipulated and the gear that they (ostensibly) use.

But don’t think that the music in this film is all all unlistenable noise. The score, which is comprised of more conventional music is very, very good too, particularly the beautiful piano theme that is played at various points in the film, accentuating said points and scenes brilliantly. Barring the scene in the aforementioned video and the final, extended solo, however, I would perhaps have to say that the non-noise tracks are better than the noise ones.

If this film was simply pointless, badly-shot shots of two musicians making noise then even I wouldn’t enjoy it, but it’s so much more than that. It’s actually very well made, managing to avoid descending into a fetishistic celebration of noise—and, by extension, some sort of outsider culture within the world of music and sound—and mantaining an aura of true beauty throughout.

It is not, as I—and I’m sure many—have said, a movie for everyone. Most probably only a small cross-section of movie-watchers will enjoy this. Not many will be able to get past the noise aspect of it, and perhaps even fewer of those individuals that can will be able to look past the seeming novelty value of the whole thing, of making a movie about two noise musicians—becoming something of an 80’s punk rock film for the modern-day noise-drone-and-EAI kid in the process—and see the film for what it really is: a thing of beauty.

i can’t review things for shit, honestly

(But I’m going to try, anyway.)

I just finished watching this just now, and all I can say is, well… holy fuck. This is, by far, one of the most disturbing and downright deranged movies I’ve ever seen. And, you know what?

I love it.

It is, of course definitely for only a select few individuals.

The plot, or whatever this movie has as a lame excuse for it, makes very nearly no sense. If/once you do make sense of it, though, you realise it’s really nothing special at all (and is, by most standards, pretty crap).

But, for me, it’s not about the plot. It’s about everything else:

The proto-industrial, Einstürzende Neubauten-meets-Skinny Puppy-meets-very nearly every other industrial act of the late ’70s/early ’80s soundtrack;

The rhythmic, oftentimes hyper (“hyperkinetic,” to borrow the quote on the Tartan Asia DVD release) and very stylized camerawork;

The visual aesthetic, which, in its biomechanical, techno-organic (hooray for sounding like some sort of pretentious cyberpunk reviewer!) meeting of flesh and metal (and rust) not only recalls the terrors of H.R. Giger, but even, in admittedly what may be a slight stretch, Fritz Lang’s seminal “Metropolis,” and

The acting, which very nearly reaches pantomime levels but manages to avoid crossing that particular threshold, which, again, smacks of “Metropolis” and many of its’ contemporaries.

This is more than just a movie, to me. It’s… well, it’s art. No, it’s not art from a pure filmmaking perspective, but it is, to me, art on a visceral level… the combination of biomechanical horror, rhythmic camerawork, stomach-churning closeups of flesh, metal and rust, accompanied by that pounding, grating, harsh, almost Industrial soundtrack hammering on in the background, supporting the visuals wonderfully and adding even more to the already discomforting, disorientating visual spectacle unfolding on-screen.

If that’s not art, I don’t know what is.

It’s, to use a lame example, the visual equivalent of an early Einstürzende Neubauten concert. Or perhaps a New Blockaders album. Or both. At the same time.

woman in the dunes

I finally sat down and watched Hiroshi Teshigahara’s 1964 film Woman in the Dunes and, my god, was it brilliant.

It really is a wonderful, wonderful movie; beautifully directed, filmed and photographed in black and white, with some very haunting and moving cinematography, from the brilliant shots of the shifting, almost-alive sand to abstract, disorientating close-up views during certain segments of dialogue to the detail captured in skin, facial hair and anywhere else that the sand gets to. Wonderful cinematorgaphy, no doubt.

The story is simple; in fact, there’s almost nothing to it. A man, a scientist, is collecting insects in a Japanese village when he is forced to stay the night in the village due to missing the final bus. The villagers lead him to a rope ladder, which leads down into a large pit with a house inside. That night, he sees the woman shovelling sand, which is then hauled up out of the pit by the villagers. The next day, the ladder is gone.

The woman tells him: “If we stop shovelling, the house will get buried. If we get buried, the house next door is in danger.” She also later informs him that the villagers sell the too-salty sand to construction companies under the table, at a cut-rate price. Ridiculous concept on paper, I know, but you know what? Not once during the time I was watching the movie did that thought cross my mind. The fact is that the movie looks and feels realistic and not even the improbably-steep walls of the pit can detract from that.

He tries to escape, but soon begins to accept the situation (triggered, perhaps, in part by a certain event I shall not mention, just in case someone decides to call me out for spoiling the thing) and soon the movie shifts from a portrayal of desperation (on part of the man) and the oppressive situation the two of them are in (basically, forced to shovel sand night in, night out, for what?) towards the tense, strangely erotic sense of physical attraction between the two of them, handled in a way that modern directors can’t seem to equal.

In the end, he gets a chance to escape, but decides not to.

Some will scoff at the seeming lack of plot, but the movie isn’t about the plot. It isn’t about the sand, either. It’s about, to quote what Roger Ebert said in his essay about this very film, “life.” And it handles that topic exceedingly well.

The performances by both Eji Okada and Kyoko Kishida in the lead roles are, without a doubt, wonderful: managing to capture everything from the desperation of a trapped and thirsty man towards the aforementioned eroticism without once seeming like they’re acting it out for the camera.

I will have to admit, though, that yes, the film does drag a bit on occasion, and that it is quite slow-paced and will probably be boring to some, but you know what? It doesn’t detract from the movie at all.

The movie is a wonderfully bleak, haunting, beautiful and almost existentialist (it occasionally brings to mind some of Albert Camus’ works) look at life and the relationship between a man and a woman. It is perhaps a bit odd, I will admit, but since when was “odd” a bad thing? “Odd,” to me, is a good thing.

A mighty good thing indeed.

i had a lesbian midwife who gave birth to my mother, while i was born through my mother’s womb

In between bouts of feeling quite unwell and somehow managing to actually help my mother with some of her kuih-making chores, I managed to sit down and watch Harmony Korine’s 1997 film, Gummo, today.

It’s not really a “movie” in the commonly-accepted, mainstream sense; rather, it’s more of a collection of disturbing, unsettling and uneasy vignettes looking at the lives of the bizzare inhabitants of the town of Xenia, Ohio. And, if this movie is anything to go by, then I sure as hell do not want to be living there. The settings, most of which are messy, dirty and oh-so “white trash” don’t help one bit either, and they add even more to the already disturbing and unsettling quality of the movie.

I really liked the usage of home movie-esque shots (particularly in the introduction), which really add a lot to the whole unsettling, backwater, close-to-home feeling of some scenes (including one in which a group of white trash talk about cat torture and their dislike of “niggers.”). I also really liked the usage of repeated yellowish and blurred still shots of the two “main characters,” Solomon (played by Jacob Reynolds) and Tummler (played by Nick Sutton), primarily on an aesthetic level.

Speaking of “yellowish,” a review on Facebook said the film had “disgusting hues,” and, while, to me, that statement doesn’t make any sort of sense whatsoever (“disgusting hues?” what? the mind boggles), it does bring me to the fact that the lighting in this film (apparently provided by fluorescent lights instead of your average studio/movie lighting) is quite good and heightens the surreal feeling of the movie even more, giving it a pretty haunting, occasionally yellowish and also very home video-like feel, particularly the fact that it looks like it was shot in available indoor lighting, as most home videos (or, at least the ones I’ve recorded/seen) are. And that really enhances that “close-to-home,” almost realistic feeling I mentioned earlier.

Great music, too. There’s something about having raw-as-fuck black metal playing while your main characters are whipping the body of a dead cat that just . . . works. And using Roy Orbison’s “Crying” over the final sequences of the film (having been mentioned in the dialogue of the film earlier) was a great choice, seeing as how the song, to me at least, seemed to fit those aforementioned final scenes so wonderfully well.

No, this movie isn’t for everyone. In fact, it’d probably be more accurate to say that this movie is for a select few, namely for those open-minded souls who don’t need easily-followable plots (or, really, any sort of proper plot whatsoever) or some sort of moral being drilled into their thick, mindless little heads in order to be able to enjoy a movie. And it, of course, helps if one is not particularly easily offended.

Conclusion? Good, if you’re looking for something outside of the normal constructs most movies (and movie-goers) find themselves trapped in. I certainly enjoyed it: cat torture, “disgusting hues,” black metal and all.

‘Shitsurakuen’: jôbafuku onna harakiri

Is this a movie? Why, yes, of course. It is, after all, a moving picture. And that’s the basic definition of “movie,” isn’t it?

What it’s not, however, is in any way entertaining. It’s not something you watch to pass the time, it’s not something you watch to enjoy (unless you, for some reason, enjoy this stuff). Why? Because it’s a harakiri film. Sadly, there’s no Wikipedia entry for the term “harakiri film,” but unless you’re dumb (which is probably the reason you’re reading this blog?), it’d be painfully obvious as to what is meant by the combination of the terms “harakiri” (“ceremonial suicide by ripping open the abdomen with a dagger or knife: formerly practiced in Japan by members of the warrior class when disgraced or sentenced to death.”) and “film.” Yes, you guessed it: movies about people disemboweling themselves.

To me, this film is the slow, somewhat masturbatory arthouse film taken to some sort of extreme (visually and, to an extent, aurally) by one of the masters of the noise aesthetic, none other than Masami Akita (a.k.a. Merzbow) himself. It’s disturbing, gory, unsettling and confrontational. The film counterpart to Merzbow’s noise. The visual accompaniment to his aural landscapes.

However . . . no, it’s not particularly good. It’s pretty pointless (except as an exercise in, well, gore) and it’s pretty slow and, hell, it’s probably not even that gory. It is, however, still quite a handful to get through. The score (I hesitate to call it a “soundtrack,” lest idiots start to get all worked up about how it’s not actually music and shit like that), though, is actually quite good and probably the most redeeming factor of this movie, Sure, it’s not as wonderfully harsh and loud as most of Merzbow’s work, nor is it as good as some of his career highlights (Pulse Demon and 1930 come to mind) but it is pretty enjoyable and it adds quite a bit to the movie. In fact, I guess you could treat this as something of a 30-minute Merzbow music video, in which case it may actually work a bit better.

I will have to admit that the primary reason I decided to download this was because of the Merzbow connection. That, and the fact that I like my gore and somewhat enjoy obscure, confrontational and gory movies. But mostly because of the Merzbow link. Perhaps dear old Masami would call me a “Merzslut.”

Boo!

love has no boundaries, nationalities or genders

Hands down, this has to be one of the most ridiculous movies I’ve ever seen.

Stupid? Perhaps. Dumb? Most probably.

But oh God it’s such incredible fun. I mean, come on: Laser guitar picks, exploding heads, zombies, a katana hidden inside a guitar, gratuitous shots of people combing their quiffs, flame-spitting vehicles (and a flame-spitting microphone), leather jackets, a man in tight shorts and, most importantly . . . LOCK AND LOLL! Oh yeah. How could it NOT be great?

I know a few people who’d probably like it . . . if it wasn’t also gory. Sure, it’s pretty tame by my standards, but then again my standards are probably a bit out-of-whack. The gore’s kinda comedic, much like Ichi the Killer, in a sense (I laughed so fucking hard at the first of the movie’s many exploding heads), but, well, to most, gore is still gore.

Two thumbs up for sure, though. Great movie. Watch it if you can.

LOCK AND LOLL!

so, hellboy 2

I watched it tonight with a few friends. I suck at reviews, so I’ll keep it simple.

Was it a bad movie? No.

Was it a great movie? No.

Was it worth gushing over? Definitely not.

Was it a decent, enjoyable action flick with had a few quality moments, some notable (and impressive) action scenes that was somewhat marred by a sub-par storyline, bland characterization and character motivations (okay, save the princess, yeah, ho hum), somewhat crappy characters (Abe served no real purpose aside from a slightly cliche “love” thing, although the scene where he and Hellboy were splitting beers was quality, and Liz, well, why the fuck didn’t she just melt the third piece earlier? See also: “brick” for an approximate representation of her emotional range and qualities) and an unavoidable feeling of “meh”-ness about it (especially in light of some glowing reviews that have appeared)? Yup yup.

Was it better than the first one? No.

Was Ron Perlman good? Now that’s a stupid question. Of course.

Do I regret paying for it? Not entirely.

Would I pay to see it again, though? Probably not.

The pasta I had at Williams afterwards, though, was A+++ WOULD EAT AGAIN. And I felt this odd feeling of “I knew this would happen” when I met Pa’an there, almost like it was one of those inevitable things. Haha. Hey ho encik Pa’an!

it’s coming to a grinding halt

Bear with me. It’s nearly 3am and I am bored. And, perhaps, should be asleep, but hey, I’ll sleep when I’m dead. Or something like that. Just you watch, I will surely one day be involved in an accident that will be directly due to my huge lack of sleep. Somehow.

I heard my brother’s cell going off just now. To be honest I don’t know who the fuck would call a schoolkid at nearly 3 in the morning and expect him to answer. Sure, there’s footy on, but, really, I’d personally put sleep much, much higher up the list than watching Switzerland face Turkey (and sitting in front of my computer writing a useless blog post higher than that, still). Of course, if you call me at 3 in the morning I’ll pick up, definitely, as Farrid (of The Next Lab Is Inside/Hey! Hooboopolar) will attest to.

Isn’t it comforting knowing that I’m easily contactable at hours where most people would be nigh-on unreachable?

I’ve been slightly uninspired in terms of photography lately. I find that the 135mm is nearly always on my A200 now, for some reason. Maybe because it’s a good, good lens?

Haven’t written much either. Must fix that. FM addiction is a crippling, crippling addiction. Right now I’m fighting the urge to start it up and continue playing. I’ll let the high from trouncing Real Madrid 3-1 at the Bernabéu (for a 4-3 aggregate scoreline, sending me into the CL semis) lull me to sleep tonight.

I watched Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas the night before last. Great adaptation. Johnny Depp was brilliant as Raoul Duke. He wasn’t just acting as Raoul Duke (and, by extension, Hunter S. Thompson), mind you: he was Raoul Duke. Nailed everything there was to nail about the character nearly spot-on. Benicio Del Toro was great, too, as the “300 pound Samoan” lawyer.

Trippy movie. Funny, too, in a sense. Shares that almost out-of-control feeling of recklessness that the book has. I think that even if it wasn’t an adaptation of the book—which it is, for all you idiots—it would be the perfect film counterpart to the book. Sure, there’s not much in terms of plot or character development, but then the book didn’t have any of that stuff either. And if you’re looking for those things, you better look somewhere else.

Will watch Woman in the Dunes next. Probably going to dedicate a whole night to it. Don’t know when.

Now I shall sign off and finish writing a monologue for my Creative Writing class. You know what they say, no need to worry until 2-3am. And I’m not worried.

Overly cheerful and optimistic people are very, very tiring.

hooray for humans

I got my hair cut today, although, yes, it’s as long as it was before. It’s not as thick, though, and is perhaps a bit neater. I think it looks a lot nicer, to be honest. I like it quite a bit. No photos, since I don’t think a self-portrait would really show the whole thing and how it looks on me. I rarely appear in photos, too, so don’t hold your breath for any shots of my new ‘do. Unless a photo opportunity presents itself, like at the wedding I was at on the 24th:

Yes, a photo of me. With other people. How rare.

Rest of the day was quite uneventful. Messed about with the 50mm f2.8 macro a bit more, taking photos of some large and very . . . “relaxed” flies in particular, began shooting in manual mode on my A200 to see how it felt for an extended period of time and started to really put my 50mm f1.4 to work in low-light conditions shooting at ISO400 or 800. It’s actually still usable at f1.4, although, as expected, it’s quite soft. Usable, though, definitely.

I’ve been downloading (part by part, from Rapidshare) Hiroshi Teshigahara’s 1963 film Woman in the Dunes, which was highly recommended by this one guy from a forum I frequent. Seems very much like my cup of tea . . . and, really, who the hell can resist a film shot in black and white? Not me, that’s for sure.

Speaking of black and white, I really want to watch Luc Besson’s The Last Battle, just to see how it is with the whole lack of dialogue and stuff. Why this desire, all of a sudden? Well I watched Leon (finally, yes!) the other day—I enjoyed it greatly, by the way . . . one of the best films I’ve seen, no doubt—and after that I began to read up on his other films and the description/summary/synopsis of The Last Battle really grabbed my attention. Where the fuck do I find it, though?

I might be heading out tomorrow: probably to KLCC to walk about and go to Kinokuniya and check out some books. Been trying to get my cousin to come along but I haven’t managed to get a real response from him. Hm, typical.

Not sure when I’ll be heading over to that Doodles & Dreamscapes art exhibition at CM Annexe. Probably sometime during the week as I most probably won’t be free next weekend, but we’ll see.

I have some more writing to put up. Expect more stuff soon . . . ish.

epilogue of a car crash

I find myself grappling with an all-too-familiar sense of confusion these days: I’m thinking too much and it’s occasionally having quite the negative effect on me, and not just in terms of an increased (if that were possible) tendency to lapse into intense phases of self-hate and insecurity. Sometimes I find it hard even to fall asleep (not helped, of course, by the fact that I find it hard to fall asleep regardless) or actually concentrate on anything much, and I often have this kinda-sick, uncomfortable feeling in my stomach.

It’s not all that great, to be honest, this stuff.

I could never deny that I always think too much, and this whole phase is certainly proof—if more proof was needed—of that fact. I really, really wish I could chill the fuck out but I’m finding it to be quite tough, though, the act of “chilling out.” It sounds quite pathetic but it’s quite true. Most of the time at least.

I feel quite alright at the moment, though. It’s a Friday and I’m just trying to relax. Nearly finished with re-reading Hunter S. Thompson’s Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Just as fun the second time around as it was the first. I might decide to hop over to KLCC (and Kino) or some other bookstore and perhaps see if I can get myself one of the books on my “want to buy/read” list, which would include Kerouac’s On the Road and Dharma Bums, William Burroughs’ Junky and all three from his Nova trilogy, Allen Ginsberg’s Howl, Heller’s Catch 22, Hunter Thompson’s Hells Angels: A Strange and Terrible Saga and Fear and Loathing: On the Campaign Trail ’72 and some others I’m sure I’ve forgotten.

So many books, so little money: a situation I’m sure many are familiar with. On the positive side though, I guess I know what books I’ll be buying over the next year or so.

I watched High Fidelity in class on Thursday. We were supposed to analyze characters and make notes of how they developed over the course of the movie, but, really, why lie, I spent most of the time just enjoying it. I’m going to have to write a blog post about it on my other blog (which was created solely for my Creative Writing 1 class in place of a physical journal), so check there if anyone’s interested in reading what I have to say about it. (I don’t know why anyone would be, but who knows?)

Speaking of movies, I finally got around to watching Mulholland Drive a week or so back. What can I say? It’s David Lynch, of course it’s fucking brilliant. The musical score was awesome too, and fit the movie brilliantly. Oh, yeah, reminds me how I should get around to watching Tan Chui Mui’s Love Conquers All. Bought the DVD at Art for Grabs ’08 but haven’t watched it yet. Damn.

But first it might be best for me to focus on my Creative Writing 1 assignment first.

I leave you with a photo: