One of the main reasons why Michael Bay's films up until now have been regarded as such lopsided failures is because of the complaint that characterization is consistently sacrificed for the sake of breakneck editing and elaborate special effects sequences. What depth could one of his films carry if the characters were only superficial puppets (or so infamously wondered Trey Parker and Matt Stone with last year's misguided and slanderous film Team America: World Police)? Fortunately, the heroes of The Island, Bay's latest and greatest film to date, are factory-bred clones whose personalities are limited to one of twelve pre-programmed memory imprints and who have done little else in their limited lifetime but eke out a quotidian life of sterile drudgery. We're not hung up on characterization, hidden motives, or burgeoning sexual desire; we have two human beings stripped of all pretense just struggling to survive for 127 minutes. Finally, Bay has found a screenplay that compliments his talents as a filmmaker.

Lincoln Six Echo (Ewan McGregor) and Jordan Two Delta (Scarlett Johansson) are introduced as members of a select community of adult "survivors" of a future global catastrophe which has rendered the planet inhospitable save for a nearby pathogen-free island. They occupy a self-contained and sustainable habitat that is immaculately clean and efficient (urine is analyzed each time one uses the washroom, for instance) where new survivors are remarkably being found every few days while others win the opportunity to relocate to "The Island" by participating in hotly anticipated lotteries. It's a routine and tiresome existence; food is doled out cafeteria-style like medical prescriptions each morning, repetitive work is mandatory, exercise is regular, physical proximity between the sexes is strictly prohibited, and for some strange reason everyone is required to read from Dick and Jane primers. The only respite would seem to be social outings like evening dancing and public X-Box tournaments. And, of course, the hope of winning the lottery to roam free on "The Island" - to do what nobody quite knows, except to be on "The Island."

For the most part, everyone is complicit and accepts this way of life, though we have obvious concerns of our own. But some are beginning to ask questions, answering all of ours in the process. One disgruntled man - a seven-year resident of the facility - wonders why he has yet to win the lottery while a six-month resident has already won. He is more angry than ponderous, though he remains observant. Then there is Lincoln, whose growing curiosity eventually leads him to discover the perverse secret of the facility on the eve of Jordan's own trip to "The Island." Fearing for their lives, he escapes with her, thus beginning a series of revelations and self-actualizations intermittently comprised of humour, desire, integrity, ethics, and morality, and punctuated by some of the most bristling action sequences in cinemas this year.

Surely, one would expect such elaborate action from one of Bay's films, but integrity, ethics, and morality? Make no mistake - The Island is a highly contemplative film, heavily immersed in issues beyond the scope of whether it is right to clone human beings. At its core, the film is about the preciousness of life, the violence of survival, and how the two are impossible to reconcile. It is also about the attainment of utopian perfection and its disparity with human imperfection. This is where the subject of clones becomes a brilliant allegory for these Platonic divides, and Bay's knack for depicting action and violence an appropriate visual analogy for human existence. Life and survival are both cut from the same cloth yet are two distinct concepts (one is the state of existence and the other its continuation, like a human being and its clone). Just as there is no life without survival and no survival without life, each human is bound to die without clones to harvest, though clones would not exist without a host to give them life in the first place. Existence, then, is a constancy of life and death, a plight from which we cannot escape, while eternal life without death is indeed an island in our minds, which we may imagine yet never rightfully attain.

To be sure, The Island does veer toward formulaic storytelling at times, lacking originality in its execution of plot and action sequences. But given the rapturous energy of the film, such disappointments are minor and permissible. I even accept Bay's recycling of the high-speed chase from Bad Boys II where boats were hurled at oncoming cars because the similar scene in this picture (the clone?) involving giant metal barbells is better. Much of the film's other technical considerations and details were also quite impressive even if they were derivative. And given the tendency to have perhaps borrowed from the wrong sorts of sci-fi action movies, I especially appreciated the minor futuristic tweaks undertaken to create the image of 2019 Los Angeles. Like Minority Report, this film is aware that in the future many things will still more or less look like they do now.

While it may be unpopular to say so, Michael Bay has turned up a gem of a film which I am proud to champion. Because of a few blemishes on his name (Pearl Harbor, both Bad Boys films), time may regard this film as another throwaway hyperactive sci-fi action clunker. That would be a shame. The Island may be big, loud, and fast-paced, but it is philosophically so, brimming with intelligent ideas about human nature. As an anonymous graffiti artist outside the Ace & Spades bar midway through the film has crudely scrawled for passers-by on the highway to see, "Life Sucks," it would appear; however, as the film's artful and sweeping cinematography seems to evoke, there is a majesty and beauty to life worth aspiring to.

(This film was released in theatres on July 22, 2005, and is currently playing at Crystal Palace 8 Cinemas in Dieppe and Empire 8, Trinity Drive in Moncton.)

Directed by Steven Spielberg
Written by H.G. Wells (novel); Josh Friedman, David Koepp (screenplay)
Starring Tom Cruise, Dakota Fanning, Justin Chatwin, Miranda Otto, Tim Robbins
Genre: Action / Adventure / Sci-Fi / Thriller
Country: USA
Runtime: 116 minutes
MPAA Rating: Rated PG-13 for frightening sequences of sci-fi violence and disturbing images

Evaluation: 9/10
by Greg Ferguson






Given Steven Spielberg's pedigree as a purveyor of family-friendly blockbuster science-fiction/fantasy fare, it's forgivable to assume that War Of The Worlds has more to do with the "worlds" aspect of the classic H.G. Wells tale than the "war." This is not so. Spielberg's latest is a grimy, brutal, and relentlessly cheerless evocation of the West's post-9/11 terror, paranoia, and fear. Remember that this is also the man behind such films as Schindler's List and Saving Private Ryan; he understands the implications for humanity behind war and conflict, and this film owes a great deal to such insight. More immediately, it directly builds upon his adaptation of Philip K. Dick's Minority Report from 2002, which exposed the compassionless attitudes of an overly cautious society in the not-too-distant future and paved the way for this sort of contemporary pathological evisceration.

Here, cold and merciless creatures from a distant world (presumably Mars, according to Wells’ original story) who have sought to colonize Earth for over a million years (in order to allow the human population to flourish past the 8 billion mark, I imagine) have finally decided to set their plan in motion. They awaken buried machinery under the ground’s surface and irradiate and harvest human life in more or less equal numbers. Their moral framework operates on a completely alien level from ours and, naturally, we suffer the throes of an ideological and physical war - or jihad, if you will (the initial alien attack on the streets of New York plays out like footage of the Twin Towers' collapse). Where we engage the invasion is with Ray Ferrier (Cruise), a divorced father of two who, as we are immediately able to surmise, is the likely cause of the marital discord. A characteristically selfish guy, he is saddled with his young yet already disabused teenaged son (Chatwin) and his younger and more vulnerable daughter (Fanning). In order to survive and prevail, family conflicts must be resolved and individuals must band together. With tensions running high, as they tend to in moments of crisis, this of course isn't always easily done, and the fallout from everyone's attempts provides the film with a gritty realism that's welcome and refreshing.

All of that may sound like a rather hefty load for summertime popcorn entertainment, but it is made reasonably palatable thanks to Spielberg's winning direction. In his hands the integrity of the story is preserved, and as a result remains less of a science fiction disaster flick than a humanist parable that just happens to involve aliens. Being a parable in this instance, however, seemed to call for a happy resolution, and without spoiling the conclusion for anyone let me just say that the most unlikely and disappointing plot development occurs at the end and it doesn't involve the aliens.

War Of The Worlds succeeds foremost as an allegory for the utterly violent nature of control and domination - interpersonally, internationally, and between species - but it is also an awesome spectacle of special effects and an exhilarating display of style and technique. Spielberg fans of every stripe should find something to marvel at, from the Close Encounters and E.T. devotees who've come for a glance at the invading creatures, to those who are strictly thrill seekers (Jaws, Jurassic Park) and those who relish his more pensive side. Barring some minor quibbles and one major oversight at the end, it is a fine motion picture and earns its regard as one to be remembered.

(This film was released in theatres on June 29, 2005, and is currently playing at Crystal Palace 8 Cinemas in Dieppe and Empire 8, Trinity Drive in Moncton.)

Directed by Mark Moskowitz
Written by Mark Moskowitz
Starring Carl Brandt, Frank Conroy, Bruce Dobler, Robert C.S. Downs, Robert Ellis, Leslie Fiedler, Ed Gorman, Robert Gottlieb, John Kashiwabara, Mark Moskowitz, Dow Mossman, William Cotter Murray, John Seelye
Genre: Documentary
Country: USA
Runtime: 128 minutes
MPAA Rating: Rated PG-13 for brief strong language

Evaluation: 9.5/10
by Greg Ferguson






Those of us who heed and nourish our souls each have particular works of art that are more meaningful to us than others. Think of that film, painting, piece of music, or book that you once encountered and left you forever changed, shaping the course of your life from that point on and steering it toward uncharted corners and territories. Now, imagine that virtually all traces of it have vanished from human cognizance (yes, even in this age of the Information Superhighway). Suddenly, you're like a character torn from The Twilight Zone, convinced that what you possess is real and bent on solving the mystery of why you're the only one who thinks so. In Stone Reader, director Mark Moskowitz finds himself in this position.

Back in 1972, Moskowitz read a New York Times rave review of first-time author Dow Mossman's book The Stones Of Summer and flagged the title. He picked it up, kicked it around for a few years without sinking his teeth in, then finally read it and branded it a masterpiece. Since then, Mossman hasn't followed up, the publishing company that released the book folded, and nobody remembers the book or Mossman for that matter. Moskowitz, so in love with literature and so profoundly affected by this single work, is shaken to the core. Thus begins his odyssey, which is variously about finding Mossman, awakening an interest in his book, speculating about "one-and-done" authors, and perhaps most importantly initiating conversations with fellow book-lovers about favourite books.

I was invigorated by this film and swept up by Moskowitz's zeal. That I'm able to write with such enthusiasm about his mission is doubtlessly an extension of the man's energy. Moskowitz is the sort of man who's so
possessed that he actively seeks out every last available copy of the book he can pin down and has them mailed to his address. Strangely enough, he does find some. At first glance, this compulsive need to collect every known copy of the book he loves may seem irrational, carelessly selfish, and rather nihilistic, but what he is actually doing is distributing these copies among his friends. This serves two crucial purposes central to the themes of the film. On a surface level, he can more easily recruit people for his cause, putting additional feelers out there so that the mystery of Dow Mossman may be solved at last. Deeper still, however (and this is where we see that the film is less about Mossman than it is about him), Moskowitz is affirming his own identity by sharing this work of art that is so indelibly a part of him with other people. He is reaching out to them - to us - as if to say "Read this so that you may understand me better. Dow Mossman can tell you things about me that not even I can."

Despite the enormity of the film's subjects, its tone and pace are quite austere and quiet with no really big dramatic moments being lead up to. Whether or not Moskowitz ever meets Mossman and finds the answers to his questions about his life over the last thirty years is beside the point. Of course, we do care about Mossman, and we take Moskowitz's word that it is a shame that so many people may never know how great The Stones Of Summer is (as of this moment I still haven't read it). Mossman's life leading up to the writing of the book and his whereabouts since are vital to its context and remain important aspects of Moskowitz's relationship to it. But they don't comprise the entire relationship, and as such are not the true focus of the film.

Moskowitz confesses several failed attempts at writing his own fiction, yet he is so familiar with books that he has developed a real knack for narrative and storytelling that is evident in this documentary. After all the deliberation and discussion about those "one-and-done" authors who hit the scene with one landmark book only to disappear from sight, I truly hope that Moskowitz does not become a "one-and-done" filmmaker.

(This film was released on DVD on February 17, 2004, and may be rented from Spin-It Video Rentals, located at 15 Lewis St. in Moncton.)

Directed by Jonathan Caouette
Starring Renee Leblanc, Jonathan Caouette, Adolph Davis, Rosemary Davis, David Sanin Paz
Genre: Documentary / Biography
Country: USA
Runtime: 91 minutes
No MPAA Rating

Evaluation: 9.5/10
by Greg Ferguson









Jonathan Caouette entered the world cursed with much to resent and despair. Saddled with a single mother who was emotionally and physically abused by her parents and psychologically rent from electroshock therapy at their insistence, Caouette endured a particularly harrowing and scarring childhood and adolescence that was exacerbated by an emergent gay identity. All told, his was a life that variously involved uprooting and moving, foster care, abuse, victimization, depression, drugs, and suicide attempts. How he managed to persevere and survive is part happenstance and part willful determination to experience and attain peace, stability, happiness, and above all else an understanding of himself. Where others similarly afflicted may have sought and explored such things through companionship, writing, conversation, or other typical methods of therapy, Caouette coped by relying on his video camera. And so, at the age of thirty-one he has sifted through his old videos and resurrected other artifacts from his past in order to construct Tarnation, a sort-of video collage/scrapbook that synthesizes his life thus far, looks uncompromisingly at it, and makes a push forward into the future.

Tarnation is miraculous simply because it has obviously helped rescue this man's life. We see through his many filmed skits and performances how escapism provided him an outlet for his pain and allowed him to overcome the wretched circumstances of his life. Yet at other times, such as when his mother overdoses on lithium at the beginning of the film and he is wracked with fear and terror, the camera rolls on. Part of Caouette's character requires him to detach himself from his anguish and study it, as though he continues to be oddly fascinated by what face his sorrow wears. To him, it is especially important to see that he does not resemble his mother, for as dearly as he loves her, he confesses that one of his deepest fears is ending up just like her one day.

As indulgent as this film might seem (and, let's be honest, it is in many places), make no mistake - this film is not just a voyeuristic peek inside a troubled man's diary. Tarnation is also remarkable for Caouette's talent for filmmaking. Made quite inexpensively using the iMovie software that comes free with iMac computers, Caouette's jumble of images and kaleidescopic montages simulate the ebb and flow of his thoughts, while his detached third-person narration presents each of the events as though they comprised a fable. The approach is at once quite personal yet immediately accessible and artful; we are invited to share in his storytelling and bear witness to the many traumas and triumphs he's lived through. And as a tangential aside, Caouette, through his skits and performances, may have exposed himself as a hidden talent in the acting world, ready for mining.

By the end, I felt relief for Caouette and his mother and confident that his curse had been lifted. It is my sincere hope that he has found release from his demons and can embrace all that he ended up becoming, and all that he has to look forward to.

(This film was released on DVD on May 17, 2005, and may be rented from Spin-It Video Rentals, located at 15 Lewis St. in Moncton.)