The Big Bris (2011)

             The best films are personal. Their merit isn’t found in large budgets and high concepts, but in how well they resonate with their audience. The best directors can take elements from their own experiences and make them relate universally. Such is the case with director Oren Peleg and his short film The Big Bris (2011).

Casey Adler stars as Moishe “Mo” Greenbaum, an aspiring stand-up comedian tired of performing at birthday parties and small venues. Mo is overjoyed when best friend Andoni (Andoni Zorbas) announces that he booked him a gig at the prestigious Rushmore comedy club. Mo’s strict parents (James Eckhouse and Ellen Bry) eagerly schedule Mo’s recircumcision ceremony for the same night as his performance at the Rushmore, leaving Mo with the choice between honoring tradition and taking a career opportunity that could change his life.

            In film school, where trite storylines and underdeveloped characters run rampant, Peleg has found a niche that sets him apart. The Big Bris is Peleg’s third short film, following his Barely Bar Mitzvah’d (2009) and Judea Capta (2010). His stories often place prominence on the Jewish faith of his characters, without ever becoming overbearing or preachy. “I definitely try to make [them] universal and appeal to a mass audience. The characters are Jewish, but hopefully the themes reach broader than that,” says Peleg. And they definitely do: the heart of The Big Bris lies in Mo’s struggle to find an identity for himself despite the conflicting (and very vocal) views of his parents and friends. While many of the jokes and references are more familiar to Jewish eyes and ears, they translate well with any audience while giving Peleg and his characters a distinctive voice.

            The recognizeable talents of Hollywood veterans Eckhouse (CSI, Beverly Hills 90210) and Bry (St. Elsewhere, Boston Legal) mesh nicely with promising newcomers Adler and Zorbas. Adler wrote most of Mo’s stand-up himself, and it shows: he doesn’t just spit out the jokes, he feels them. The viewer instantly accepts the Greenbaums as a real family. Even if his parents don’t approve of Mo’s comedic aspirations (“You’re Jewish first. Everything is second after that,” his father says), it’s apparent that everything they do is out of love. 

            Editor Niv Brook’s quick cuts keep the pace of the film moving smoothly. This is most noticeable in the scene in which the Greenbaums and the rabbi discuss Mo’s recircumcision. Brook cuts rapidly between each character, enhancing the absurdity of the situation. Cinematography by Taylor Mahony subtly underscores the content of the story; a steady, fixed camera and warm lighting are used for the house scenes, while a moving camera and harsh lighting give the comedy club a gritty, constrained feel. Catherine McGourty’s sound design is detailed and flawless – another rare component in student films.   

            What sets The Big Bris apart from other student films is that it doesn’t try to save the world. Peleg didn’t set out to change lives, or deal with heavy, monumental themes. His film tells a simple story about a normal family – much like yours –  and the true accomplishment is in its ability to simultaneously entertain and touch its viewers.

Enchanted (2007), The Princess and the Frog (2009), Tangled (2010)

Inside each and every one of us is the impression left by our former selves, that hopeful and innocent child who truly believed that nothing was impossible and all of their dreams could come true. Even the most despairing of cynics can’t deny the promise of a better tomorrow… the possibility of adventure in a limitless world, just waiting to be explored… perhaps even the chance at true love. Nowadays, one has only to turn on a news report to find countless stories of violence, abuse, and pain. It can be so easy to lose hope. But we must remember that there are positive things, too. Love and peace exist. So do opportunity and success, freedom and progress, friendship and happiness. We can get so wrapped up in the stresses of our everyday lives that these qualities go unnoticed. Sometimes, all it takes is a little reminding that life can be beautiful.

Traditionally, Disney films are notorious for painting a picturesque world view, an environment wherein the dragon is always slayed, the fair young maiden finds her Prince Charming, and all of the little woodland creatures come together to celebrate their union. Critics argue that these films are “wishy-washy” and overly idealistic. But is this really such a bad thing? In a time when children are growing up with technology as their primary companion, is it really so horrible to teach them about the existence of real, meaningful human relationships? These Disney “princess” films exhibit a timelessness, untied to spatial or temporal restraints and therefore universally relatable.

Three of Disney’s finest films to date have been released within the past five years: Enchanted (2007), The Princess and the Frog (2009), and Tangled (2010). The role of these films has evolved since the days of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937). They’ve become more self-aware, parodying the very genre in which they are based. They’ve also begun to tackle themes like independence, economy, and self-discovery. And still, their heart lies in the hope and innocence that resides within all of us, no matter how deep we must dig to access it.

The history of Disney princess films extends over a period of almost eight decades. It began in 1937 with Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, followed a few years later by Cinderella (1950) and Sleeping Beauty (1959). In all three, the narrative centers on the heroine’s (titular in the first two cases, Princess Aurora in Sleeping Beauty) desire to locate and marry her ideal Prince Charming. They succeeded inproviding the audience with a filmgoing experience that is entertaining and uplifting. Those enamored with Disney’s princesses were left without much to delight in for the next thirty years – that is, until the genre experienced a sudden Renaissance, beginning in 1989 with the release of The Little Mermaid. Beauty and the Beast (1991) followed shortly thereafter, with Pocahontas (1995) and Mulan (1998) a few years later. This new breed of animated features presented stronger, more independent female leads: Ariel is headstrong and rebellious; Belle is intelligent, but considered “strange” and a social anomaly; Pocahontas is instinctive and in tune with nature; Mulan is courageous and defies her predefined gender role. These films are masterpieces because they break new ground on women’s capabilities and achievements.  

For the next ten years… nothing. Disney was so preoccupied with their successful new collaboration with Pixar Animation Studios that they neglected to produce any princess fare. While audiences were charmed with talking toys, performing bugs, warmhearted monsters, lost fish, familial superheroes, egotistical automobiles, cuisine-savvy rodents, ecological robots, and flying houses – they were offered nothing in the form of classic fairytales.

Then, in 2007, the world saw the return of classic Disney with Kevin Lima’s partially live-action, partially animated film, Enchanted. Giselle (voiced and played by Amy Adams) lives alone in a far-off fantasy world called Andalasia until she is swept off her feet by a prince named Edward (James Marsden). Edward’s evil stepmother Narissa (Susan Sarandon) fears that once the two are married, Giselle will be a threat to her throne. To prevent this, she promptly disguises herself as an old hag and pushes Giselle down a well, which is actually a portal to the “real-world,” where Narissa claims “there are no happily ever afters.” Scared and alone, Giselle wanders around New York City until she is spotted by a by-the-book attorney named Robert (Patrick Dempsey) and his young daughter Morgan (Rachel Covey), who reluctantly take her in while she waits for Edward to rescue her. However, Giselle is simply not prepared for the customs and behavior of the people in this strange new place, and has a hard time adapting. She defies what is considered to be “normal”, and blesses everyone she comes around with her sunny and optimistic attitude. Even Robert, who was formerly strict, practical and overbearing, learns to change his ways and believe in the incredible. Ultimately, Giselle comes to love her new home so much that when Edward finally finds her, she is faced with the hardest decision of her life: Should she remain in the real-world with Robert and Morgan, or return to Andalasia?

What makes Enchanted such a treat is its parodic nature. Giselle and Edward are caricatures of the dreamy maiden and her charming prince, destined to be together and lead a life of domestic bliss. Within the first six minutes of the film, the couple meet, fall in love, and make plans to be married the next morning. Naïve as they may be, the viewer can’t help but rejoice at their having found each other, which makes the reveal that someone is conspiring against them even more powerful. Giselle is the embodiment of every Disney princess; In fact, the film carries several subtle references to past Disney works, such as Giselle’s reflection in a bubble when she is cleaning the floor (resemblant of a similar scene in Cinderella), and when she runs up a large grassy field during a musical montage (almost exactly like Belle does in Beauty and the Beast). Few people know that actresses such as Jodi Benson (who voiced Ariel in The Little Mermaid), Judy Kuhn (the singing voice of Pocahontas), and Paige O’Hara (the voice of Belle) all had cameos in the film. Adams does a fantastic job as the definitive princess trying to find a place in a modern-day world. Her voice and mannerisms were spot-on with those of her predecessors.

At its core, this film focuses on a young woman who is removed from her comfortable environment and placed in unfamiliar territory. In one scene, Giselle is shocked to learn that a client at Robert’s law firm is divorcing her husband. (“Forever and ever?!” she asks, incredulous). She begins sobbing dramatically, garnering the disbelieving attention of everyone in the room. But that’s just what makes Giselle so endearing: she cries when she’s upset, and sings when she’s happy. She’s honest and trusting, full of compassion and pleasantness. She’s not afraid to love.

As she learns and grows, Giselle realizes that perhaps what she thought was her destiny isn’t what she wants at all. Yet the choice she makes isn’t between Edward and Robert – it’s about the lives they each represent. The film is a journey of self-discovery, Giselle exploring the world for what it is, not necessarily in relation to a man. She constantly reiterates the importance of one’s dreams, and refuses to give up on them, no matter how level-headed Robert tries to convince her that they’re not realistic. Giselle stands for that bit of child-like innocence in all of us that wants to be set free.

            The next modern classic that we must examine is The Princess and the Frog. Directed by Ron Clements and John Musker, the film is set in New Orleans during the 1920s and follows 19-year-old Tiana (Anika Noni Rose). Hardworking and extremely driven, Tiana is determined to save up enough tips from her job as a waitress to finally make the down payment on her own restaurant. Her hands more than full working to achieve this dream, Tiana is unimpressed when she hears that Prince Naveen of Maldonia (Bruno Campos) is coming to town. Meanwhile, Naveen does some exploring and comes across the frightening voodoo doctor Facilier (Keith David), who somehow manages to convince the impressionable prince to let him perform a spell that will help Naveen get in the good favors of the richest man in town. What he gets, however, couldn’t be farther from that, and Naveen ends up a frog. He asks Tiana to kiss him to turn him back into a prince, and – upon promising her the money she needs to make her down payment – she reluctantly agrees. This process works in reverse, and Tiana too is transformed into a frog. The two then embark on a journey that takes them through the bayous of Louisiana to find a solution to their problem, making friends with creatures as diverse as alligators and fireflies along the way.

            The defining characteristic of this film comes in the form of its animation style. The Princess and the Frog was hand-drawn in two dimensions, just like the original Disney pictures. After years of nothing but CGI, this method has become a novelty! When Tiana sings a memorable song called “Almost There” about wanting to open her own restaurant, her visions of grandeur are seen in an art deco montage. This break from the established aesthetic underscores the dream-like quality of the sequence.

            As always, Disney exhibits tremendous attention to character detail. As a child, Tiana is shown to be terrified of frogs, so it follows that she will later be turned into one. This knack for subtly infusing plants and payoffs is a great strength at which many filmmakers are unsuccessful. Like Edward, Naveen is a parody of the classic “prince charming.” He’s handsome, but narcissistic and simpleminded. Tiana, too, is not without her faults: while diligent and kind, she is consumed by her work and leaves no time for fun, much less the prospect of falling in love.

            The setting of The Princess and the Frog is a uniqueness all its own. New Orleans is unlike any location shown in a Disney film, and it is depicted with as much flavor and vivacity as the city itself. Gumbo and beignets are the foods around which Tiana’s culinary aspirations revolve, and jazz music gives the film an authentic Louisiana mood (more on that later).

            Themes that are rarely touched on in children’s entertainment are placed at the forefront of this film. There is the subject of money, unlike the other Disney films where currency goes virtually unmentioned and the characters seem pretty well-off to begin with. We see Tiana in comparison with her wealthy and spoiled friend Charlotte, and realize that this is highly reflective of real life: some people get everything they want without so much as lifting a finger, and others must overcome obstacle after obstacle to reach their dreams. Hard work and determination are prominent themes, as wishing on stars can only get you so far. Tiana is the first African-American princess; in fact, The Princess and the Frog is the first of Disney’s animated films to feature African-American characters since 1946’s Song of the South. That film was banned from being released in its entirety for home distribution on the grounds of being racist, but this one disregards the issue, treating people as people, regardless of the color of their skin.

      The latest installment in Disney’s animated princess series is a retelling of a well-known fable. Tangled is the story of Rapunzel (voiced by Mandy Moore), a young maiden with incredibly long hair, who was never granted the freedom to fully experience her life. Hoping to take advantage of the healing properties of Rapunzel’s hair, an old woman named Gothel stole her from the palace when she was just a baby and whisked her away to a tower hidden deep in the forest. Here Rapunzel remains for the next eighteen years, believing that Mother Gothel is keeping her locked up for good reason, and that she truly is too fragile to survive in the world. However, that all changes when Rapunzel is visited by a charming thief named Flynn Rider (Zachary Levi), who helps her garner the nerve to leave the tower and chase her dream of seeing the lanterns released from the palace (coincidentally, or so Rapunzel thinks) every year on her birthday. Things get complicated when Mother Gothel finds out about this, and Rapunzel’s quest to see the lanterns is threatened.

      Rapunzel isn’t like the other Disney princesses. She’s a little bit bucktoothed and she has a lisp (kudos to Moore, who does not have one). She’s impressionable and naïve, thanks to extremely limited experience outside of the tower. She’s goofy and clumsy and has little self esteem, at least in the beginning. And yet she has a luminosity all her own (and I’m not just talking about the glowing hair). The scene in which Rapunzel and Flynn dance in the village square with all of the townspeople proves her to be just as radiant and endearing as the classic princesses. She’s a drop of sunshine… almost literally.

    One particularly impressive facet of the film is the storyline that leaves no question unanswered. Musings like “Why does Rapunzel’s hair possess magical healing powers?” or even “If she’s trapped in that tower all day, what does she do to occupy herself?” are all addressed (the latter in the form of a very pleasant song entitled “When Will My Life Begin”). The simple fairy tale on which this film is based is embellished and fortified with a narrated prologue that sets up everything which was to come.

     Spectacular as always, the computer animation leaves the viewer with a sense of longing to visit this magical (but alas, fictional) place. The gorgeous, lush landscape of the tower gives it a fantastical quality, something beautiful but mysterious; a difficult treasure to locate. The lantern sequence is particularly breathtaking, but I won’t ruin it with inadequate descriptions. As a family film, Tangled doesn’t deal with any particularly heavy or controversial subject matter. Yet the themes are no less valuable. It’s all about courage, self-discovery, and learning to stand on our own two feet. As viewers, we are all, to some extent, trapped in our own “towers,” and this film is about having the audacity to jump out the window and surprise yourself.

   Although labeled as “princess” movies, these three films aren’t just enjoyed by little girls. Young boys, teens, and grown-ups can also take pleasure in the viewing experience. If princesses aren’t your cup of tea, you’re sure to delight in one of the (usually comical and often non-human) supporting characters. Enchanted offers Pip, a chipmunk who Giselle describes as her “very best friend”. In the animated world of Andalasia, Pip can speak, and is therefore shocked to find he can communicate only in unintelligible squeaks in real-world New York City. Besides its two amphibious leads, The Princess and the Frog has Louis, a friendly trumpet-playing alligator, and Ray, a starry-eyed Cajun firefly. Besides acting as Tiana and Naveen’s guides and therefore advancing the plot, the two provide several opportunities for comedy. Just watching Louis dance as he blasts out a tune on his trumpet is enough to elicit giggles; the creature is surprisingly light on his feet.  In Tangled, there’s Maximus, one of the palace horses who harbors a vendetta against Flynn. Maximus doesn’t talk, but his nonverbal interactions with Flynn are the most hysterical part of the film. It’s amazing how much expression Disney animators can give their animal characters – without speaking, they can communicate an array of emotions just as diverse as those of their human counterparts.

   While the animation styles of the aforementioned films are quite disparate (Enchanted being primarily live-action, The Princess and the Frog in hand-drawn 2D, and Tangled with its computer graphics), the films share many similarities. All three are musicals, featuring songs that the characters sing themselves. In addition to writing scores for The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, and Pocahontas (as well as several other popular Disney films), Alan Menken composed the music for Enchanted and Tangled. Both scores contribute immensely in creating an extravagant fantasy world.  Randy Newman wrote the music for The Princess and the Frog; appropriate, since he spent a large part of his childhood living in New Orleans. It’s jazzier and less whimsical than the other two, focusing more on the busy excitement of the city rather than establishing a magical new world.
        The way in which all three deal with relationships is also untraditional. We’ve come a long way from Snow White’s pining refrain of “Someday My Prince Will Come.” These new princesses aren’t out to find love (although, in the end, love tends to find them). They have dreams and goals separate from that. Tiana’s main objective is to open her own restaurant, and she initially refuses to let anything – including a handsome and available prince – get in the way of that. Rapunzel wants nothing more than to leave her tower and see the lanterns, and only relies on Flynn to get her there because she doesn’t know the way. In fact, both of these heroines at first despise the men they’re paired with, then gradually come to love them through situations that force them to grow and learn more about each other. Giselle is a different case, because she was purposefully developed as an imitation of the quintessential “Disney princess.” But even she re-evaluates her perception of what it means to be in love.

   Although still relatively new to the scene, Enchanted, The Princess and the Frog, and Tangled have quickly become exemplary works in the canon of Disney princess films. They will continue to influence a new generation of children with their strong heroines and uplifting themes, and for that they should be treasured.

Last Year at Marienbad (1961)

Few films can take their viewer on a psychologically-complex ride without exhausting him. Alain Resnais’ 1961 film Last Year at Marienbad is one such rare gem.  Highly stylistic in visuals and radical in structure, Marienbad is a groundbreaking film, dealing directly with the conflict between fact and fabrication. 

While staying at a luxurious hotel, a woman (credited only as “A” and played by Delphine Seyrig) is approached by a man (“X”, Giorgio Albertazzi) who desperately tries to convince her of the passionate relationship the two had together at the same hotel just one year prior.

The film opens with repeating, echoey narration as the camera drifts through an elaborately-decorated hotel. The effect is instantly transfixing, almost hypnotic. We glide past sets of well-dressed people, never stopping, always moving on to the next group before hearing more than a tantalizing snippet of their conversation. This is much in keeping with the general tone of the film: just when the viewer thinks they’ve figured it out, we move on to another scene that undoes any resolution we have come to.

 Last Year at Marienbad blurs the line between reality and fantasy, memory and the present. There are flashbacks – but are they really? The narration doesn’t always match up with the flashbacks. Maybe what we’re seeing is the truth, and the narration is a lie? Perhaps the “flashbacks” are in fact only dreams, visualizations of the scenario “X” insists happened at that location one year before? The most unique aspect of this film is

that we never find out – it’s all up to interpretation.

Repeated dialogue, landscapes, and objects make the viewer feel as if maybe

they’ve been in this situation before. The film revolves around creating a sense of uneasy déjà vu. Even the other hotel patrons seem to be struggling to remember something.

This is a film that can be thoroughly enjoyed the first time, for the viewer has surely never seen anything like it before. For a more in-depth look at the themes, however, it merits several more viewings. Perhaps there is an answer – a key to the mystery surrounding these characters, but in the fifty years since its release, nobody has been able to definitively unlock this.

What make Marienbad most delightful are its brilliant visuals: gorgeous people wearing gorgeous clothes in a gorgeous setting, shot in gorgeous lighting. No film I have seen comes even close in terms of camera movement; Last Year at Marienbad must hold some kind of record for total number of dolly shots. Never distracting, it keeps the scenes from becoming stale by creating a sense of constant flow.

The editing is also remarkable. Resnais plays one entire scene in a wide shot, his actors against the breathtaking backdrop of an expansive garden and glimmering fountains. Near the end of the film, there are several very quick flashes to another setting as “A” begins to remember something. The effect is jarring, startling and confusing! – much like the complex workings of the human mind and its two branches of memory and imagination.  

True Grit (2010)

With a cast headlined by talented actors such as Jeff Bridges, Matt Damon, and Josh Brolin, it’s hard to be ignorant of True Grit ’s existence. Consider it was directed by Joel and Ethan Coen, and it’s hard to be ignorant of its excellence. Yet somehow, True Grit  manages to eclipse even the most confident of expectations.

Based on the 1968 novel of the same title by Charles Portis (and adapted a year later into a feature directed by Henry Hathaway), the film begins with the narration of Mattie Ross, describing the murder of her father. She explains that Frank Ross, an honest man, was gunned down and killed by the drunkard Tom Chaney (Josh Brolin) in an act of unpredictable betrayal. Knowing full well that the law will not does not intend to punish Chaney, 14-year-old Mattie (Hailee Steinfeld) makes the decision to pursue and finish him off herself. Fueled by the fiery desire to make Chaney pay for his crime, she leaves her mother and younger siblings at home and - after a fair amount of monetary persuasion - recruits U.S. Marshal Reuben “Rooster” Cogburn (Jeff Bridges) to help her. The two are shortly joined by hotheaded Texas Ranger LaBoeuf (Matt Damon), who isn’t subtle about sharing his distaste for Cogburn. The trio embarks, separates, and reunites as they track Chaney; and (although they are an unlikely posse) save each other’s necks more than a couple of times.

The film’s performances are spectacular - unsurprising, coming from screen veteran Bridges. He plays Cogburn in a more gritty (if you’ll excuse the pun) and intimidating way than John Wayne, the role’s previous embodiment (for which he won his only Oscar). Although a marshal, Bridge’s Cogburn seems to abide by his own code rather than ethics set down by the law. He drinks, shoots haphazardly, and can’t seem to get his story straight when called upon to testify in court. But Cogburn proves to be the best guardian for Mattie along her quest; someone experienced enough to find and capture Chaney, and sympathetic enough to protect the girl.

For his part, Brolin makes a terrifying villain. Although surprisingly not the leader of a gang but a mere member (subordinate to Barry Pepper’s notorious outlaw Ned Pepper), Chaney shows no remorse for killing Mattie’s father - and proves just as unabashed when threatening a child. Damon steps comfortably into a supporting role as LaBoeuf, who tries ever so hard to give his feats proper acknowledgement, but ends up making a fool of himself more often than not. Yet we can’t help but like LaBoeuf, as he is one of the very few people willing to help Mattie.

True Grit ’s most pleasant surprise comes in the form of fresh face Hailee Steinfeld. Mattie is brave, determined, and mature for her age, but she doesn’t come off as a know-it-all, or pretend that she does. Although she demonstrates a considerable amount of the film’s namesake characteristic, she is still a child at heart. She still wants to tell stories by the campfire, hardly knows how to use a gun, and weeps when her horse becomes exhausted and is put out of its suffering by Cogburn. Steinfeld’s dialogue is anything but skimpy, and I can only imagine how difficult memorizing her lines must have been. In fact, one of the strongest points of the film was the script, written by the Coens and based tightly upon the elegant but wordy dialogue of Portis. True Grit  reminded me of The Social Network in this way - both films require the viewer’s absolute attention during their back and forth “tennis-match”-like scenes.

Anyone familiar with the Western genre knows that the environment in which the action takes place can be nearly as important as the action itself, and the scenery here is not lacking. Every open valley, expansive sky, and snowy mountaintop is enhanced by the brilliant cinematography style of Coen pro Roger Deakins. The film teems with gorgeously cinematic shots that subtly remind the viewer what a rare adventure they’re a part of, without lessening the reality of what the landscape really was: dangerous and untamable.

Apart from a superfluous “25 years later”-type epilogue (which could have easily been substituted with a more concise narration), there wasn’t anything about this film that I disliked. All the elements of a top-notch Western are there, working together cohesively to keep the viewer completely engaged throughout the 110-minute running time. My pick for best film of the year, True Grit  is a true gem.

When in Rome (2010)

Don’t waste your time with this film. No, seriously - don’t. I’ve watched it so you don’t have to. The following plot summation will provide you with all the information you need, and you’ll be free to spend the following 91 minutes doing something more beneficial to your life (which includes just about anything other than a viewing of When in Rome).

Directed by Mark Steven Johnson, When in Rome is the story of Beth (Kristen Bell), a young, workaholic museum curator who abides by the idea that love is just not worth her time. While attending her sister’s impromptu wedding in Rome, Beth becomes enamored with the best man - a charming reporter named Nick (Josh Duhamel). Afraid of having her heart broken, Beth escapes the reception and drunkenly stumbles upon the (conveniently close) Fountain of Love. Upset and intoxicated, she steals five coins from the fountain, hoping to spare their casters from the sorrows of love gone awry. Unbeknownst to Beth, taking coins from the fountain is rumored to put a spell on those who threw them in, and she soon finds strange men relentlessly hitting on her.

Beth’s admirers include an Italian artist, a street magician, and a male model (portrayed by Will Arnett, Jon Heder, and Dax Shepard, respectively). Perhaps Johnson was unsure of whom he most wanted to typecast, so he just went ahead and cast them all. As if this weren’t enough, we get Danny DeVito as the fourth schmuck charmed into love with Beth… which wouldn’t be as creepy if he wasn’t several decades her senior. The fifth coin stolen by Beth belongs to Nick, and she must figure out whether his presumed romantic feelings for her are real, or merely the result of her thievery.

            I won’t bore you with the minute details that make up the greater part of the film’s plot. Suffice it to say that the film begins with a wedding, as well as ends with one.

I have to wonder what compelled Johnson, whose previous credits include Daredevil and Ghost Rider, to change directions completely and helm a romantic comedy. Not to worry, though - When in Rome fails just as miserably as the others. With its odd combination of overt slapstick comedy and trite messages about romance, I was confused as to whether the target audience was lovelorn 15-year-old girls or their annoying little brothers. The film offers an absolutely pointless Shaquille O’Neal cameo, (which, come to think of it, doesn’t seem too out of place considering how much of a mess the rest of the movie is.) And there’s an appearance by Efren Ramirez as Heder’s videotaping sidekick - because what Heder role would be complete without a blatant Napoleon Dynamite reference? The lines are cheesy and predictable; I almost choked when I heard Bell ask, “He’s standing right behind me, isn’t he?” and cringed at Duhamel’s “The only spell I’m under… is yours.” It seems to me that the writers hastily compiled their dialogue from a list of “Top 10 Most Cliché Lines in Film.”

The story is weak, the dialogue is cheap, and (despite what I can only imagine were desperate attempts at fleshing them out) the characters don’t seem to have much depth to them. I won't even go into the dance number performed by the cast during the end credits; that's another level of torture entirely. When in Rome might aspire to be the next When Harry Met Sally, but it falls into the ranks with Maid in Manhattan and From Justin to Kelly.

When in Rome, do as the Romans do. But when seeking a film that’s worth your time, look elsewhere.

Clean, Shaven (1993)

            This film made me want to vomit. But that’s exactly why I liked it.

Director Lodge Kerrigan glamorizes nothing in his 1993 film about a schizophrenic man fighting to be reunited with his young daughter. Clean, Shaven is shocking and disturbing, but beneath the brutal images one finds a tremendous amount of heart.

Peter Greene stars as Peter Winter, a tormented man presumably recently released from a mental institution. Peter arrives back in his hometown to visit his mother (Megan Owen), and find his daughter Nicole (Jennifer MacDonald), who has long since been adopted. At the same time, police detective Jack McNally (Robert Albert) conducts an investigation on a series of child murders. All evidence points to Peter, whom McNally pursues with fervor.

What makes Clean, Shaven so fascinating is its ability to draw the viewer into the mind of a schizophrenic. While no mentally-healthy person can ever truly empathize with the constant struggles of a person like Peter, this film brings us considerably closer. Kerrigan dwells on seemingly minute details, like the way Peter slowly spreads mustard over a slice of bread, or how he dumps several packets of sugar into his three cups of coffee. These are specifics most directors wouldn’t find necessary to telling their story, but Kerrigan uses them as tools to bring us into Peter’s shaky thought patterns. This is also achieved through some brilliant sound design. While there is little dialogue (Peter is alone for several scenes), we constantly hear indistinct voices talking over one another. Watching this film made me feel like I was going crazy.

Details are what make this film, and Kerrigan shows great vehemence in illustrating even the most gruesome. The most memorable of such moments are when Peter tries to extract the transmitter and radio devices that he believes have been implanted underneath his scalp and fingernail. This is extremely hard to watch, not because these acts are particularly violent (recent films have shown much worse), but because they are examples of self-harm. One can’t imagine what it must be like to resort to that.

This film is incredibly depressing. At times, it makes the viewer feel as if there is no love or compassion in the world. Crimes including armed robberies and child murder are touched on in realistic detail, and these scenes are made all the more frightening when the viewer stops to think that events like that actually happen. Yet Clean, Shaven simultaneously addresses this frightening realization and offers hope. In one beautiful moment, Nicole asks Peter about her mother. Rather than going into particular aspects of her personality, he simply tells her, “There’s a lot of people out there who want to hurt you. Wherever you are. But she was good.” This line will stand out in my mind forever because its message rings so true: the world can be a dangerous place, but we all have people in our lives who love us and will protect us.

Anytime a film can elicit a physical response (such as the nausea I felt upon leaving Clean, Shaven), it’s well worth seeing. This is a testament to the director’s transcendence from merely telling a story to creating an experience. If you can stomach the more grisly moments, it’s an experience well worth taking part in.

The Shooting (1967)

            A far cry from the quintessential Western, Monte Hellman’s 1967 film The Shooting is a disappointment. The exposition is simple enough: hardened cowboy Gashade (Warren Oates) and his young companion Coley (Will Hutchins) are suddenly joined by a secretive and nameless Woman, who employs them to help her in a revenge scheme (upon whom they are seeking revenge, the boys have no idea). They later meet up with bounty hunter Billy Spear (Jack Nicholson), and find themselves dealing with far more than they agreed to.

While The Shooting employs several creative visual techniques, they have no relevance to the story and ultimately fall short. There is a moment near the beginning of the film where the Woman is seen in a profile close-up. The shot is stylistically interesting, but unexpected and jarring. It is also not matched by any subsequent shot, making it an even more bizarre directorial decision. But what else is new? The Shooting is filled with numerous equally strange shots and moments. The composition is always a little different than would be traditionally accepted, like in a shot where Coley and the Woman stand on either side of a tombstone. The grave is seen directly in between the two characters, creating a very uncomfortable frame. The use of slow-motion and still frames in the last scene are highly distracting, and again have no connection to anything we’ve seen earlier in the film. When I wasn’t too busy wondering to myself, “What the hell is going on?” I was wondering, “Why the hell did the director choose to do that?”

The film’s ending is simply ridiculous. After a first viewing, I had absolutely no idea what had happened. I saw some characters shoot, some characters get shot, one mysterious character in a wide shot (whom I could not identify, as that was the only coverage offered of him), and a whole lot of cheesy slow-motion. Perhaps my confusion was due to the fact that much of the dialogue was unintelligible. Upon further research, I learned that there is a somewhat widely-accepted explanation for what happened, but a viewer should never have to go seeking information that should be made clear on-screen! The worst part is that I didn’t even really care about the film’s resolution. It made no difference to me if Gashade died, or if the Woman succeeded in finding her target – that’s how disconnected I felt from the characters.

The one thing I did enjoy about this film was the music, composed by Richard Markowitz. Creepy and sinister, it is nothing like the grandiose scores we are used to hearing in Westerns. It gently foreshadows the horrific events to come and reminds the viewer that this is a fresh take on the genre. Just as impressive is the lack of music in chosen moments. During the climactic fight scene between Gashade and Billy, it cuts out completely, and the only sounds to be heard are their shuffles and struggles as either tries to dominate the other.

A film with an engaging first half, The Shooting gradually becomes rife with bizarre cinematography and confusing plot twists. It lacks consistency and multi-faceted characters, and filmgoers should feel no remorse in skipping it.