MODEST
GOALS

by Howard Schumann

In the warm and appealing comedy


Bend It Like Beckham


,
traditional Sikh family values clash with the aspirations of a headstrong
18-year old girl named Jess (Parminder K. Nagra), who wants to play
professional soccer. Her hero is David Beckham, England's top professional
soccer player. "Anyone can cook aloo gobi," she complains, "but who
can bend a ball like Beckham?"

Jess's
parents want her to follow in the footsteps of her older sister Pinkie
(Archie Panjabi) and marry a neighborhood Indian boy. Jess would rather
sneak off to the park to practice soccer with a group of neighborhood
boys. When her friend Jules, played by Julia Roberts look-alike Keira
Knightley, asks her to try out for an all-girl soccer team, her mother
strongly objects and tells Jess that it is not feminine for a girl to
be playing football. Jess' father (Anupam Kher) is more sympathetic,
however, but remembers the racism that stopped him from playing cricket
and wants to prevent his daughter from experiencing a similar rejection.

Jess
and Jules become friends, but their relationship is complicated when
both develop a love interest in Joe, the handsome young coach (Jonathan
Rhys-Meyers). Jess is aware that her talents are sufficiently strong
to win a scholarship to an American college, and she must ultimately
choose between her ambitions and honoring her parent's desires.

Like
Jess, director Gurinder Chadha grew up in London's Southall neighborhood
in a Sikh Punjabi family, and the film's themes of racism, gender discrimination,
and cultural identity reflect her own personal experience. Bend It Like
Beckham took in more than $25.7 million at box offices in the U.K.,
the most ever for a British-made and, as a result of the film's success,
women all over Britain began signing up in large numbers for amateur
soccer teams.

I
wanted to like

Bend It Like Beckham

because of its message about
transcending limitations, and because I love soccer. Unfortunately,
we never really get a sense of the strategy, thinking, passing, and
teamwork that is the heart of the game. All we see are dizzying close-ups
of the girls running and scoring goal shots and the constant display
of the players' legs, chests, and behinds. Apparently the director would
rather pump up the energy with sexual suggestiveness, ear-splitting
music, and last minute heroics than help us to truly understand the
game.

Nagra
is outstanding as the conflicted heroine, and Rhys-Myers is impressive
as the coach who had his own career cut short by a knee injury, but
the love interest has little depth or chemistry. Though the film "celebrates
the process of cultural change," it doesn't grapple with the real pain
of discrimination and rejection. While it may leave you with a warm,
fuzzy feeling,

Bend It Like Beckham

is so formulaic that it ends
up as just another slick commercial package whose final kick falls far
short of the goalpost.

The
father, Ed (Callum Keith Rennie), is uncommunicative with both his family
and his lady friend Barb (Kristen Thomson). Constantly downing cans
of beer, he only relates to his son with silence, self-hatred, and sudden
explosions of violence. He tries to school him in typical macho activities,
taking him fishing, driving, and shooting on an improvised pistol range,
but is unable to provide any real love or understanding. The years have
turned the boy into a sullen withdrawn child, with his only nurturing
coming from his beautiful sister Flower (Jane McGregor).

Roberts is so natural as the young Garnet that it seems
as if you can hear his thoughts and feel his feelings above the long,
awkward silences. The film's climax comes as a devastating, unexpected
jolt.

In
Manon Briand's warm and humorous Quebecois film,


Chaos and Desire


,
Alice Bradley, played by the lovely Pascale Bussieres, is a seismologist
working in Japan studying the factors that can predict earthquakes.
When the tides mysteriously stop flowing on the St. Lawrence River in
her hometown of Baie Comeau, she returns to investigate and comes up
against the bizarre behavior of local residents. In one instance, a
little Chinese girl (Ji-Yan Séguin) sleepwalks every night at the exact
same time. In others, a woman chops down every tree in her front yard,
and the phone number of a fire-fighting pilot named Marc Vandal (Jean-Nicolas
Verreault) has been ripped out of every phone book in town.

Running
from a troubled past and consumed by loneliness, Alice must now deal
not only with the problem of the tides but with a growing involvement
with Vandal and the not so subtle advances of her journalist friend
Catherine (Julie Gayet). When Alice uncovers the film's central mystery,
the investigation turns away from science to the world of spirit, achieving
a resolution of surprising power.

©2003 Howard Schumann

CineScene

Cinema Reviews

Juno

Joshua Starnes

Rating:
8 away from of 10

Movie Details:

View here



Cast:

Ellen Page as Juno MacGuff
Michael Cera as Paulie Bleeker
Jennifer Garner as Vanessa Loring
Jason Bateman as Identify Loring
Olivia Thirlby as Leah
J.K. Simmons as Mac MacGuff
Allison Janney as Bren MacGuff
Rainn Wilson as Rollo

Review:

Ever since James Dean screamed that he was being torn apart, the teenage coming-of-era drama has behove one of the most overdone and underdeveloped of fashionable Hollywood films, transposed onto every genre from humor to horror, and usually all equally ill-conceived, until it seems as if all anyone who makes films knows nigh teenagers is what they've seen on screen.
When the teenage film does work, however, it can be a entrance of screenplay and comedy, mixing just the right authority of precociousness and blind trust, and Jason Reitman's ("Thank You for Smoking") "Juno" is a close example of the manner.
Ellen Page's Juno is a smart ass, self-aware misfit, which sounds in the same way as she could have been plunked incorrect of any half-baked John Hughes film, but in Reitman and Page's hands is in fact a fully developed, fully engaged young woman, who is just aware enough to know that there is a superb deal to life she is not fully microwave-ready for. Unfortunately, she doesn't fully come to this conclusion until after she's gotten gravid with friend Bleeker (Michael Cera).
The plot itself is generally slight to the record, however. "Juno" is a character dramatic art (and comedy) through and through. Her pregnancy is just an wink at to bring Juno into the revolution of callow, seemingly upwardly mobile Vanessa and Streak (Jennifer Garner and Jason Bateman), who have been trying to adopt for some time. The world, for 90 minutes anyway, thoroughly revolves encompassing Juno, on account of not just her interactions with the people in her world, but the way she watches them connect with each other. Like everyone, she's the central character in her own summary, but simultaneously an eyewitness of everyone else's.
It's the cheap things that make life good living, and the same is true in the interest of making a character film advantage watching. The little things shine in "Juno," from Rainn Wilson's short presence as an acerbic drug store clerk, to the lone protestor of a unoriginal abortion clinic. Juno's world bears little resemblance to customary entity ? no one is eternally at a loss for words, even when they're at a depletion destined for words ? but there is no question that it's real.
It takes a strong cast to make this sort of thing work, and Reitman has put together a fine anecdote for "Juno." In event, there's not a separate wrong note in any of the performances, from Garner's quiet desperation to J.K. Simmons' surly but undisputed love for his daughter. Every part is perfectly send, and everyone gets at least one seriousness to shine that exquisitely encapsulates who they are. The only downside is that with a relatively all in all match time and a decently sized ensemble, it feels type not all and sundry gets enough screen stretch. These characters are so well realized we're usually pink inadequate more, and while that is undeniably a good concerns b circumstances, it's also a minute unsatisfying.
The real pre-eminent, be that as it may, is blogger turned screenwriter Diablo Cody (AKA Brook Busey-Hunt), whose sharply observed teleplay skirts the edges of indie haziness cliché, but not in the least a certain extent embraces them, deftly moving its characters through their paces rather than, and always choosing unfeigned human interaction on the other side of easy melodrama.
All posturing aside, indie character drama has all over the despite the fact success rate as Hollywood spectacle and for the same saneness (usually reliance on well worked over stereotypes and cliché) but, like life, it's the good fill that comes along that makes all the dreck significance sitting through. "Juno" is the credible garbage.

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A gory Irish horror-comedy involving an ancient crucifix, a bungled robbery, the crazed descendants of Ivan the Terrible, and lots of cod-Russian accents. Stranded on the thirteenth floor of a Moscow apartment block with the relic, half a dozen hostages and two incompetent Russian accomplices, American thief Ritchie (Stephen Dorff) tries to avoid being sliced in two by the psychotic Sonya (Bronagh Gallagher) or her pirouetting twin bother, Ivan, who’s a big fan of Shalamar’s ‘A Night to Remember’.

Director Kit Ryan’s attempts to walk a ‘tonal tightrope’ fail dismally, leaving the actors to plunge slowly (but noisily) to their deaths. Tedious, chase scenes are interspersed with over-acted slapstick silliness and the odd funny line. Sean Pertwee’s cameo as Ritchie’s devious Russian uncle is a stand-out. And the animatronic rat (which doubles as an incendiary device) is fun. Otherwise, this is stupid, slipshod stuff.

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Reviewed by Dennis Schwartz

A noir film that is noted for its brilliant character study of four
criminals: the psychopathic killer Eli Wallach (Dancer); his older partner
and mentor, Robert Keith (Julian); the dipsomaniacal driver of the getaway
car, Richard Jaeckel (Sandy McLain); and, the cold-hearted boss of the
heroin smuggling ring, the wheelchair-bound cripple known only as The Man
(Vaughn Taylor).

Warning: the review has many spoilers throughout.

The b/w film starts off fast-paced and never stops to catch its breath.
A porter throws some luggage in the back of a San Francisco cab and the
cabbie panics upon seeing a cop and runs him over, but not before the cop
fires a shot killing him. The investigating officers, Lieutenant Guthrie
(Warner Anderson-he was in the TV series) and Inspector Quine (Emile Meyer),
question a Mr. Dressler (Bailey), who is a manager with The San Francisco
Opera House, after they find in his luggage a figurine with a quarter of
a kilo of heroin in it. They ascertain after initially being suspicious
of him that he is an innocent victim of a drug smuggling operation that
uses tourists unwittingly, by placing the drugs in their luggage and then
stealing back the contents after they clear customs. The same porter who
threw the luggage in the cab is soon found by the police in the water,
apparently dying from a hot shot (an overdose of heroin). This comes about
after there is an actual lineup in the film, as all the ship’s porters
are brought in so that Dressler could identify the one who threw his luggage
in the cab. But since the rather snooty Dressler was not observant of these
lower-class types, he was unable to pick the porter out of the lineup.

Into the picture enters Dancer and Julian, on a flight from Miami
to San Francisco,  casually discussing the use of the subjunctive
tense. The older mentor tells him to use the term “If I were you, instead
of I was you, it sounds better,” and he then rhetorically comments, “How
many characters who hang out on street corners can say If I were you!”
Julian is trying his best to upgrade the volatile Dancer into becoming
a first-class hood, rather than just being a run-of-the mill psychopath.
One of the other peculiarities that Julian has is that he likes to know
from Dancer the last words his victims say, just before he shoots them.
These two psychopaths are real beauties, and give the film the kind of
quirkiness that keeps its brutal scenes counterbalanced with a nice edge
of verbal nastiness.

Landing in S.F., Dancer and Julian’s wheel-man, Sandy McLain, meets
them with his souped-up rental car (rented with a stolen credit card) by
their motel, and the dialogue among the three is a real treat for fans
of this genre. Sandy asks them, “How does it feel to earn $5,000 for one
day of work?”And, Julian responds, “Dancer derives no particular pleasure
from the money.” As Sandy keeps yapping away and drinking whiskey from
a bottle Julian empties the bottle and tells him: “We prefer as little
conversation from outsiders as possible, Dancer works better that way.”

The hitmen are on a mission to retrieve three separate shipments
of heroin smuggled into S.F. from Hong Kong by three different voyagers
on the boat and get it to The Man by four-thirty P.M.. The boss is not
known by the hired thugs, who are curious about him and question the driver
about him without getting any results.

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The first shipment is willingly brought in by a merchant seaman (Warner),
who is not supposed to know what he is bringing in but finds out and tries
to extort more money from Dancer than his agreed upon payment. Before Dancer
kills him in the steamroom of the Merchants Seaman’s Hotel, he corrects
the seaman’s English when he says “I don’t like it when I can’t see who
I am talking to.” Dancer emphatically responds, “It is WHOM.” Warner’s
last words, duly noted for Julian’s benefit are “Why be greedy?” This comes
after asking for only a thousand dollars for his silence. The second shipment
came by way of an unsuspecting couple, as the shipment was placed in their
silverware. When Dancer comes to their home and they are unavailable he
tells the servant (Tang) that there was a mix-up of luggage on the boat
and requests to switch luggage. The servant becomes suspicious of him and
refuses to give him the silverware case which turns out to be a mistake,
as the maniacal Dancer kills him without blinking an eye as he is running
up the stairs to tell his employer. His last words are: “Mr. Sanders!”
The final shipment was brought in by a mother and a daughter, as the heroin
is concealed inside the girl’s Japanese doll. They meet the two in an aquarium
and Dancer tries his charm out on the mother who is disappointed that the
girl’s father did not meet them when the boat arrived; Dancer tells her
no one likes to travel alone and they go back to the hotel together. But
things go wrong when they find that the heroin packet is not inside the
doll. The girl found the powder and thought it was makeup, so she powdered
the doll’s face. Instead of killing them Julian talks Dancer into taking
them back to The Man to explain what happened to the drugs, this way they
won’t have to worry if The Man thinks they ran off with his heroin and
has to put out a hit on them.

The hitmen arrive at an arcade called Sutro’s Museum, but they don’t
realize that an alert mounted horse policeman spotted their license plate
and the police had trailed them here. Dancer goes to give The Man the heroin
shipments but when he talks to him trying to explain what happened, The
Man tells him that he’s dead ’cause nobody sees my face and lives. Well,
Dancer takes one more humiliation from him, a slap in the kisser, then
he pushes the wheel chaired boss to his death down onto an ice skating
rink. The Man is a cruel reminder to Dancer of his father, which is supposed
to explain why Dancer is so driven with hate. Earlier in the film, Julian
tells how Dancer is addicted with hate because his father abandoned him.

Warning: spoiler in next paragraph.

The climax comes by way of a high speed chase, that ends when the
wheel-man goes down the wrong highway and gets stuck where the highway
is under construction. When turning around to get back on the freeway Dancer
kills the wheel-man for his mistake. When Julian starts blaming him for
getting them in this mess and goes to surrender to the police, Dancer plugs
his pal in the back but not before he says “How about some last words for
the book?” He then takes the girl hostage but she frees herself from him
and the police shoot Dancer, and the girl and her mother are found to be
safe; the film ends just as tidied up as it does as if it were on the popular
TV series.

This film is noteworthy for its sadistic story, but what makes it
rise above the ordinary B movie is the strangely provocative dialogue and
the utter depravity of all the criminals who are shown in all their ugliness
and unredeeming features. It also makes good use of locales such as the
aquarium and ice skating rink and the half-finished highway. It also adds
a feeling of desperation by using props such as the Japanese doll, which
is ravished by the psychopaths. They revert back to their violent impulses
when they can’t get what they want by acting nice. But what turns out to
be their downfall, is precipitated by the one-time they are unprofessional
and want to see who their boss is. The outcome shows that they can’t rise
to another social level despite all their efforts to polish Dancer’s image.

Obviously from her suburban Sydney home, backpacker Ruth Barron (Winslet) is so touched by an Indian guru that even Tell no-one turning up with tales of dad’s imminent demise can’t persuade her primitive. Ironically, mum’s own asthmatic reaction to Delhi leads to Ruth escorting her to Oz, where awaits wizard ‘cult exiter’ PJ Waters (Keitel), hired by the family to rid Ruth of her plans to turn one of her mentor’s wives. His three-not according with handle takes place in a cabin in the walk out on, a suitably scorched, remote arena recompense a blazing contend of wills that takes them beyond conventional power struggles into a heady realm of love, resist, doubt and urge. With its switches in tone, from searing psycho-drama to broad, spry comedy, its sometimes confirmed, sometimes meandering narrative and its alert hues, the motion picture initially seems an efficient if uneven entertainment. As it progresses, in what way, with Ruth and PJ on the move into ever murkier territory, it becomes easier to discern a thematic fibre: how we’re all conditioned, and how we be obliged interrogate routine assumptions to contrive our real selves. It’s challenge, devil-may-care, refreshingly frank - qualities also marking the performances, markedly those of the leads.

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NUMA agent (National Underwater Marine Agency) and master explorer, Dirk Pitt (Matthew McConaughey), is convinced that a strange seacraft bearing arcane consignment from the American Civilized is somewhere to be found in or near the North African shore, albeit no-complete else believes it, including his long time working comrade Al Giordino (Steve Zahn) and the wealthy Maecenas of his work, Admiral (Retired) Sandecker (William H. Macy). During a dive quiet the Mali coast searching for ancient relics, he thwarts an attack by shadowy operatives on World Health Organisation doctor, Eva Rojas (Penelope Cruz) and thus gets entangled in her own mission - tracking down a humdrum disease that is comminatory thousands of people in North Africa, via something polluting the water. If unchecked, the unmixed men population could be threatened.

The Film:
The Shaw Brothers studio in Hong Kong was stable for producing some of the greatest Wushu (martial arts) films of all forthwith. In the 1970s kung fu flicks flooded American intend-in theaters and grindhouses, and some of the most memorable films came courtesy of Shaw Brothers. But the style and genre of movie most Americans associate with Shaw Brothers was extent new to the studio, part of a unexplored begetting Wushu films that was ushered in during the 1960s with titles like the seminal noteworthy One-Armed Swordsman.

Before the 1960s most martial arts films were more theatrical, drawing influence from the legendary Peking Opera. The action sequences were somewhat unsophisticated, and Hong Kong audiences had grown tired of what was being offered. What was proving to be popular were the gritty Japanese samurai films, which had started to influence Hong Kong filmmaking in the 1960s. Believing that the aesthetic of the samurai films could be merged with the conventions of martial arts films, Shaw Brothers set out to reinvent Hong Kong Cinema.

One of Shaw Brothers’ first forays into what would become the new wave of kung fu flick was King Hu’s tremendously influential 1966 film Come Drink with Me. The following year saw the release of Chang Cheh’s One-Armed Swordsman, which is widely considered by many historians to be the film most responsible for setting the tone and style of the modern martial arts film.

The action begins when evil assassins come to kill the headmaster of a powerful and prestigious school of kung fu. Faithful servant Fang Cheng (Feng Ku) defends the life of his master, and is killed in the process, but not before pleading with his master to look after his son, Fang Gang. Years later, Fang Gang has grown up–played by Jimmy Wang Yu, a former professional swimmer who made the transition to acting in the early 1960s–and is a brooding young man with a chip on his shoulder. Raised amongst the other students, all of whom come from wealthy and affluent families, Gang can’t change the fact that he is little more than a working class charity case, who owes his position in life the sacrifice his father made. This sense of alienation separates Fang from the other students, including Qi Pei Er (Yin Tze Pan), the daughter of the school’s master, who is spoiled young woman who lusts after Gang, even though she is simultaneously repulsed by his status as a commoner. During a confrontation between Gang and some other students, including Qi Pei, things get ugly, and she chops Gang’s arm off. Taking the severing of his arm as a cue that he needs to get as far away from the world of martial arts as he can, Gang flees into the countryside, where he is discovered by Hsiao (Chiao Chiao), a beautiful woman who nurses him back to health. Gang wants nothing to do with the world he has left behind, but when the gang of assassins that killed his father years earlier returns to wreak more havoc, our hero is forced to retrain himself and learn to fight with his other arm.

One-Armed Swordsman was a huge hit in Hong Kong as well as the rest of Asia, launching an entire series of films about one-armed fighters–man of the starring Jimmy Wang Yu–as well as a whole subgenre of martial arts flicks about disabled asskickers. But on a much larger scale, the gritty aesthetic and graphic violence that was lifted from Japenese samurai films was so well received that it became part of the new standard of filmmaking at Shaw Brothers.

Not only was director Chang Cheh influenced by Japanese films, he was also a big fan of James Dean and Marlon Brando and the new generation of brooding anti-hero they portrayed in films like Rebel Without a Cause and The Wild One, respectively. Cheh clearly infuses some of the Dean and Brando characteristics in Fang Gang, as Jimmy Wang Yu–not exactly the greatest of Hong Kong actors–does his best to play a tortured working class hero at odds with the upper crust of society. And while Wang Yu is not the greatest actor, he was successful in realizing Fang Gang as an alienated (not to mentioned broken) member of the working class, which is what led to the film and the character’s enduring popularity.

It is important to realize that One-Armed Swordsman does not look or feel like many of the martial arts films of the 1970s and 80s. This is the film that set standard and laid the ground work for what was to come. This is to martial arts films what The Searchers and Ride the High Country were to morally ambiguous westerns like The Wild Bunch and High Plains Drifter that came along in later years. Some people may be put off by the film’s slower pace, but that is not enough a reason to not watch this film. One-Armed Swordsman is visually beautiful, with a tone and style that is so dynamic you can see within it the decades of other films that followed in its wake, drawing deep from its well of influence.

When filmmakers start touting their intellectual props, it’s time to reach for the No-Doz. Manoel de Olveira’s movie is

intelligent and ambitious, but it’s so schematic that watching it is more like reading a graph than getting emotionally involved in a story;

he’s able to attract some serious talent to his picture, but the implied promise of a visceral and entertaining movie is never made good.

The silver screen may be most thriving as an incidental travelogue. It tells the story of Rosa (played by the engaging Leonor Silveira), a history

professor at Lisbon University, traveling by boat with her young daughter Joana, to meet up with Daddy—Rosa’s husband is an airline fly

changing crews in Bombay, and this profusion journey is an opportunity proper for the professor to see the places she teaches relative to, and for her little girl

to be introduced to some of the great wonders of the world. They leave from Portugal and expeditions east, to Marseilles, Naples, Athens, Istanbul,

Cairo; and there are many beautiful shots of the pyramids and the Sphinx, the Acropolis, and so on. As they travel, Rosa makes conversations

with the locals, including a fisherman in Marseilles, a Greek Orthodox priest who becomes their impromptu circuit train in Athens, and a Portuguese actor of some fame happy to find these countrywomen, with whom he can speak in his autochthonous jestingly.

Some of it is very pretty, but the recurring motivation of the movie is one of the ship’s prow knifing through the waters of the Mediterranean. Or,

we go through a heaps of someday looking at a craft moving because of the water.

Certainly Olveira would encourage us to read this metaphorically, about a journey from West to East, from the close into the past, or to

commit your take off-of-situation analogy of choice; but his film is insufficiently poetic to operate on this literary plane exclusively, and so we’re

not left-hand with a whole lot else. The younger half of the draw focuses more on what’s wealthy on aboard the barque, and featured prominently is

your ship’s captain, John Malkovich. Nurse and daughter glance across the dining room as the captain dines with three accomplished and

well done women; we’re privy to the conversation, with each of the four speaking in their native idiom. (That’s Malkovich speaking in

English; Catherine Deneuve in French; Irene Papas in Greek; and Stefania Sandrelli in Italian.) This is obviously more of a by

impenetrable or pointless metaphorical scheme, a polyglot Tower of Babel—each of them is deeply impressed with the intelligence of their

chat with reference to the bare essence of customs, but I will wager that you intention not be. Call me anti-intellectual, if you like, but this require of clash on board

left me hungering for a little Kate and Leo, for anything to prove at all.

Alas, my need was granted, in an unconvincing, inorganic conclusion; as audience members, we’re so bereft of empathy for these people that this

becomes preposterous. No doubt this is supposed to reflect on the current allege of Western civilization, but in truth it’s just very, very

silly. Of course I believe in the power of movies to participate in and further public debate, but this isn’t the crumble to do it.

Epic, activity-packed romance set against the trouble-fated maiden
voyage of the RMS Titanic. As robotic diving vessels search the
sunken Titanic, they discover a picture in a vault that shows a
young woman, unembellished, wearing a huge diamond, which is the object
of the salvage. An old woman watching the scoop recognises the
drawing . . .
Rose DeWitt Bukater (Kate Winslet) is a young superiority class
American, soon to be officially engaged to the equally upper
class Cal Hockley (Billy Zane). Rose is travelling in the
sumptuous luxury of Titanic’s upper decks with her insular,
narrow minded mother Ruth (Frances Fisher). Not long out of
Southampton, Rose has a crisis of the inclination, seeing her living
closeted, cloistered, devoid of real meaning, in the grip of a
dumb and superficial friendship. She is saved from a desperate act
by a unobstructed-energetic little ones steerage passenger, Jack Dawson
(Leonardo DiCaprio), who is immediately strained to this attractive
and troubled teenaged helpmeet. The central story of the fade away, Rose and
Jack’s forbidden be attracted to, begins a powerful mystery that echoes
across the years into the present. But on that April day in 1912,
the Titanic is news, and the young lovers are caught in the
shocking panic that slowly grips the desperate passengers and
crew as the remote waters of the North Atlantic swirl across the
decks. And the giant jewel is smooth mysteriously missing.