REVIEW: The Dark Knight Rises

29 07 2012

I don’t force every domestic drama I see to stand up to “American Beauty.”  Nor do I weigh every romantic comedy against “Annie Hall.”  So in a sense, why should I make a superhero movie stand up to “The Dark Knight?”  I consider it every bit as paradigmatic as the two previously mentioned Best Picture winners, so an apples-to-apples comparison is hardly even possible.  It’s more like apples-to-Garden of Eden fruit.

Indeed, a number of directors have tried to make their genre films a little more in the mold of Christopher Nolan’s iconic tale of the Caped Crusader, such as Jon Favreau’s “Iron Man 2” and Matthew Vaughn’s “X-Men: First Class,” to little success.  Yet even “The Dark Knight Rises,” the sequel to the revolutionary film itself, can’t recreate its magic nor cast a comparable spell.  Perhaps its time to declare those heights unattainable to avoid further disappointments.  If Christopher Nolan himself can’t reach them, surely it is time for Hollywood to find its next golden goose.

“The Dark Knight Rises” also has the added disadvantage of being scrutinized as a Nolan film, not merely a post-“Dark Knight” facsimile.  Coming off an incredible decade of filmmaking (five supremely acclaimed films: “Memento,”  “Batman Begins,”  “The Prestige,”  “The Dark Knight,” and “Inception“), it is hardly premature to call him the Millenial equivalent of Steven Spielberg.  His movies are so good that they have merited many a repeat viewing, allowing dedicated fans to really analyze what makes his work so exceptional.  Now, it’s immediately recognizable when his films are not up to the sky-high standard he has set for himself.  For instance, in the opening scene of “The Dark Knight Rises.”

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The Three-Year Itch

28 07 2012

I had to be reminded by a repeated event in my calendar today (which popped up in the Notifications center on my iPhone) that it was my blogoversary, blog birthday, whatever you want to call it.  Just shows you how shoddily I’ve been treating this blog.  I poured blood, sweat, and tears … no, really just time, caffeine, and sanity … into this thing, and it’s barely staying afloat.

After one year of blogging, I was ecstatic.  I was baking cakes, publishing four posts per day, and enjoying the heyday of my blogging career.

After two years, I labeled the blogoversary post “Anticlimax.”  Yeesh, that was prescient.  Here’s some of what I wrote:

“Well, I had almost entirely forgotten about my blogoversary.  Unlike last year, when I celebrated it with fanfare and cake baking, this year the day just kind of came and went.  Unspectacular, uncelebrated, really just like any other day.”

Couldn’t have said it better myself – er, wait, I did write that myself.

I put some thought into what this day means to me, given that it is a milestone of sorts.  Basically, what my reflections led me to as a realization of my own laziness.  I’ve grown complacent.  Content to simply consume movies, not ruminate and discuss them.  Selfishness.  Gluttony.  Self-indulgence.

When I started this blog way back in 2009, I wrote this:

“What the heck am I thinking?!?  I am a full-time student with hours upon hours of homework each night.  And on top of that, I have a season of athletics, two musicals, one play, two select arts companies, volunteer work, religious commitments, college searching, standardized testing preparation – and trying to retain some vestige of a life.  How on earth am I going to have time to maintain a blog?”

I look back on that time in my life through the lens of retrospective and can easily call that the most hectic, stressful period of my life.  And yet I managed to write this blog at full capacity then.  Now the burden of college admissions has been lifted off my shoulders and the engine is rolling smoothly towards the professional world … and it feels like a heavy burden to write a movie review?!  Come on, Marshall.

So starting today, I recommit myself to this blog.  To write reviews, to analyze, to discuss, to be a part of a community of cinematic connoisseurs.  If I could do it my junior year of high school, I know I can do it now.  So now, after this post, I rest.  Tomorrow, I start with my review of “The Dark Knight Rises.”  And I begin to battle the three-year itch.

I will fight.  And with your help, I can win.  Thanks for reading this piece … glad to know you still exist, reader.


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REVIEW: Beasts of the Southern Wild

13 07 2012

Normally when I review a movie, I try to situate it within some sort of frame of reference that will give the reader some sense of what to expect if, in fact, they ultimately decide to fork over a chunk of their life to watching it.  I would apologize if I was utterly stumped to provide such a vantage point, thinking that I’d failed you as a critic who has nothing to offer but hyperbolic language and particularly impressive memory of the synonyms for great in the thesaurus.  But in the case of “Beasts of the Southern Wild,” I feel no such urge.  Defying all expectation and comparison, it is a movie that must be experienced to be believed.

I can’t provide you an auteur perspective since this is director Benh Zeitlin’s first feature-length film, although if someone had told me this was a Terrence Malick film, I wouldn’t have questioned it.  (The phenomenal cinematography by Ben Richardson certainly rivals “The Tree of Life” in terms of capturing the beauty of nature.)  His unflappable confidence is something that he hopefully will not lose with the blinding lights of Hollywood.

Have no doubt about it, “Beasts” is a movie that could only by an uncorrupted visionary like Zeitlin. His ambition soars to the sky, and even in the rare occasions where it falls short, we are left in awe of the sheer gutsiness of the decision.  I guess if you really need a comparison, it’s a “2001: A Space Odyssey” in terms of uniqueness and daring.

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REVIEW: Bernie

25 06 2012

Most movies are just set in some generic city, and it proves merely a bland backdrop for the story.  Sometimes, though, a filmmaker finds a special affection for a city, a state, or a country, and the setting becomes a character in the movie.  Lucky New Yorkers have been lavished with movies celebrating their magical city thanks to Woody Allen and all his proteges, and Allen gave Europeans one of the all-time best city characters with his recent “Midnight in Paris.”

Richard Linklater, a fellow Houstonian, has created his own “Midnight in Paris” with “Bernie,” a true crime flick with a documentary angle set deep in the heart of Texas.  Granted, no one would ever mistake Carthage, Texas for Paris, France.  But just as Allen acquaints us with the architecture, the culture, and the rich history of Paris, Linklater gives us a taste of small-town Texas with pinpoint accuracy.

For once, my beloved state isn’t the butt of the joke, mocked by caricature, or stereotyped into a mythical land where cowboys ride their horse to work.  (As I like to remind everyone, we have three of the ten most populous cities in the United States!)  It’s a tender and nuanced portrayal of a tiny community rocked by a scandal beyond their wildest imaginations.

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REVIEW: The Dictator

24 06 2012

The first time Sacha Baron Cohen lost himself in a character for a full-length theatrical release was 2006’s “Borat,” and it hilariously exposed American xenophobia while also providing a rollickingly good comedy for those unwilling to see what the humor was meant to reveal.  He did it again in 2009 for “Brüno,” and its lack of success (and arguably humor) may have shown how much less ready America is to deal with pent-up homophobia.

Now Sacha Baron Cohen is at it again in “The Dictator,” this time not as a personality from his outrageously funny “Da Ali G Show” from HBO.  Admiral General Aladeen, the dictator of the fictional Republic of Wadiya, is every bit as politically incorrect and outlandish as his previous three (if not more so).  He makes jokes about 9/11 and being friends with Osama bin Laden, executes just about anyone who disagrees with him, sleeps with actress/underground escort Megan Fox, and asks his pregnant wife (Anna Faris) if she will be having “a boy or an abortion.”  Yeah, he went there.

Don’t get me wrong, there are still a few jokes that Cohen can squeeze out of his boundary-pushing routine.  “The Dictator” has plenty of brilliant comedic moments, although the ones that succeed seem only giggle-worthy and the ones that fail appear to have been ripped straight from the Adam Sandler playbook.  However, the laugh gap isn’t the movie’s biggest problem.

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REVIEW: The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel

24 06 2012

As the all-star team of British thespians entering their twilight years disembark from their plane in India at the beginning of “The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel,” the particularly closed-minded Jean (Penelope Wilton) claims to know a little something about the native culture from reading Rudyard Kipling.  Of course, she is referring to “The Jungle Book” and other works that famed British author Kipling wrote about his country of birth.

However, if there was one thing I learned from all three of my high school history classes, it was that Kipling appears in textbooks for something else he wrote.  It’s a little ditty called “The White Man’s Burden,” and the first verse goes like this:

Take up the White Man’s burden-
Send forth the best ye breed-
Go bind your sons to exile
To serve your captives’ need…

Kipling’s poem was written to encourage the United States to join Britain in its endeavor to colonize the uncivilized East at a time when it was said that “the sun never sets on the British Empire” because their holdings were so vast and widespread.  While I doubt this poem crossed the minds of director John Madden or the rest of the cast, I found it beautifully ironic. “The White Man’s Burden” would explain the troublesome undercurrent of neo-colonialism that runs throughout the movie, just as it can persuade them into thinking their adventurous escapade to India is just and noble.

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REVIEW: Madagascar 3: Europe’s Most Wanted

23 06 2012

I had just finished sixth grade when the first “Madagascar” film came out, and I must say, I enjoyed it probably as much as the six-year-olds in the theater.  Then I was in tenth grade when “Madagascar: Escape 2 Africa” hit theaters, and I disdained it like a ten-year-old who thinks he’s too cool for school and animated kids entertainment.  Now, I’m heading into my sophomore year of college while “Madagascar 3: Europe’s Most Wanted” is taking over screens in three dimensions.  Regardless of your age watching this movie, if you can just accept the inherent childishness of the series, you can enjoy it.

DreamWorks Animation found a way to reclaim what they do best (and thus separates them from their main competitor, Pixar): providing a family movie experience that creates a bottom line of ridiculous, zany antics for the kids while also littering the film with very sophisticated wordplay and adult humor that flies right over the little ones’ heads.  Pixar tries to level the playing field and get child, parent, and grandparent to view the movie from the same viewpoint; that’s what makes “Up” one of my all-time favorites.

But only DreamWorks provides maturely humorous animation that you can watch the tykes around, and it’s pretty ingenious how they can create two totally different intellectual experiences.  I know you probably don’t expect to hear intellectual tossed around in many reviews of the “Madagascar” series, but it’s a smart way to make money and maybe turn that ticket stub into a DVD purchase.

If you can’t handle Chris Rock’s ludicrous “Circus Afro” song or any of the New York Zoo crew’s antics, then maybe your appetite for humor will be met by their numerous pot shots at Europeans.  Kids aren’t going to get all the jokes about European labor laws and culture, but if you’ve tuned into CNN in the past year, you might get a kick out of it.  (Seeing this just two days after coming back from Europe sure made me chuckle – these movies may ask you to suspend reality, but they sure nailed Europe.)  I’m not saying that any sort of comedic brilliance exists in the DNA of “Madagascar 3;” however, I will say I think you’ll be hard-pressed to sit through the movie without having a few good laughs.  B /


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F.I.L.M. of the Week (June 22, 2012)

22 06 2012

Have you been looking for a way to fill the Lena Dunham void in your life after last week’s season finale of “Girls?”  Or have you been the idiot that hasn’t experienced the brilliance of “Girls” and thus needs to be introduced to the comedic genius of Lena Dunham?  Regardless of which person in the scenario above you are, you need to see “Tiny Furniture,” Dunham’s debut future which introduced her to talents into the entertainment world.  It’s a freshly real burst of humor into a genre characterized now mostly by vapid ribaldry and high concept hijinks, so much so that I have named it my “F.I.L.M. of the Week.”  (I realize it’s been a while, so I owe you all another unpacking of the acronym “F.I.L.M.”  It stands for First-Class, Independent Little-Known Movie.)

I often use the phrase twentysomething as a pejorative, but now that I’m three months removed from becoming one, it’s about time I start embracing it.  Thanks to Lena Dunham, I know what to expect.  I know to embrace the awkwardness, the uncertainty, the belittling, and the pockets of fun as just part of the age.  Most movies painting a portrait of an age or a specific stage of life usually wind up totally missing the mark and just make me scoff.  Yes, I’m looking at you, just about every high school movie whose title is not “Easy A.”

Dunham’s “Tiny Furniture,” on the other hand, suffers from no Hollywood-itis.  Her storytelling suffers from no illusions or fabricated myths about being twenty.  Aura, her surrogate here that yields many revelations into her character Hannah on “Girls,” is not even trying to get her footing in the professional or post-collegiate world; she’s trying to find where the ground is.  Her frustrations are chronicled with her family, her job, and her friends.  While it’s nerve-wracking for her, thankfully Dunham’s organic sense of humor makes the discontent more than just watchable – it becomes insightfully entertaining.

“Tiny Furniture,” much like “Girls,” isn’t a typical comedy where people just spout off ridiculous lines that make you think, “Gosh, whoever wrote that is wicked clever.”  Dunham’s film finds humor in the mundane and ordinary – in other words, where us regular people are forced to find it (because not everyone can wake up with a tiger in Las Vegas).  The dialogue gives us plenty of quotables but nothing too outrageous; they are the kind of things that normal people would say.  Her slice-of-life is filled with bitter cherries, tasty but not withholding the painful nature of things.  So if you are like me and had “Tiny Furniture” dwelling in the middle of your Netflix queue for months, it’s time to bump this to the top.  The furniture may be tiny, but the payoff is huge.


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REVIEW: Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter

22 06 2012

Back in 2008, Timur Bekmambetov came bursting onto the Hollywood stage with “Wanted,” a badass hitman thriller that both excited and entertained because the director seemed to understand a few things that Michael Bay and his merry band of pyromaniacs seemed to have forgotten.  Mainly, it helps to not take yourself so seriously.  You are not directing the sequel to “12 Angry Men” when you make the latest “Transformers” movie, so stop trying to serve me some BS drama and riddle the screen with bullets!

A few days ago, I probably would have said that was the only lesson that action-thrillers could take from “Wanted.”  But now, after having seen Bekmambetov’s latest, “Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter,” I learned that he fell into a typical pratfall that he avoided the last time around.  Stock style without substance is an empty void, one that is inherently undeserving of being watched – no matter how cool the slow-motion blood effects are.

Seth Graeme-Smith’s book, which I hear is actually quite clever and enjoyable, is transmuted by the Hollywood machine into a campy lowest common denominator summer popcorn flick.  The allegory gets muddled as a thoughtful portrait of the Abraham Lincoln (Benjamin Walker, looking like a young Liam Neeson) is lost to one-note horror and one joke comedy.  So by all means, if you could be entertained for 100 minutes by nothing other than dramatic irony – Harriet Tubman’s appearance supposedly funny to us because the characters in the film don’t realize how famous she will be – this might be your movie.  And if you can be scared without losing your sanity by “BOO! VAMPIRE OUT OF NOWHERE!” accompanied by crescendoing strings, then by all means, you are going to be cheering in the aisles.

But for me, the laziness just made me wistfully remember one evening in July when I went into “Wanted” expecting mindless entertainment and coming out clapping.  Instead of applause, “Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter” inspired me to roll my eyes while our sixteenth President slew hoards of pasty-white vampires alongside his mentor Henry Sturgess (Dominic Cooper) and childhood compadre Will Johnson (Anthony Mackie).  What was once mind-bogglingly cool to me was quickly destroyed by soulless repetition.  A revisionist history works when you have Quentin Tarantino’s panache (see: “Inglourious Basterds“), but it’s really not worth the effort when it merely provides the backdrop instead of the backbone of a story.  Bekmambetov needed the cast of Spielberg’s “Lincoln” – (Daniel Day-Lewis, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Tommy Lee Jones, among many others – to compensate.  C- / 


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REVIEW: Brave

21 06 2012

While I personally have yet to strongly dislike any Pixar release, the animation powerhouse clearly does have two tiers of films: emotional films with powerhouse stories like “Toy Story 3” or lightweight breezy fun pictures like “Cars 2.”  “Brave,” resisting easy classification within the Pixar canon, straddles a very happy median between the two.

The humor is definitely more of the “Cars” variety, zany and perhaps a little sophomorically silly.  Though it’s not a tearjerker like the “Toy Story” movies, “Brave” most definitely boasts the present, beating Pixar heart that has made them the preeminent name in animation for nearly two decades.

Boasting a spunky, independent hero looking for satisfaction, wisdom, and maturity who just happens to be a girl also makes “Brave” the feminist movie of the year.  The film doesn’t forcibly adhere to any of the conventional coming-of-age conventions for girls, nor does it degrade her femininity by deriving all her strength from manliness.  It’s a nice reminder that self-discovery and self-realization is not relegated to one gender.

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REVIEW: Something From Nothing: The Art of Rap

20 06 2012

Self-indulgent art annoys me in general, but for some reason, I had especially little patience with Ice-T’s documentary “Something From Nothing: The Art of Rap.”  The premise is simple: Ice-T, one of the first big-name rappers (now reduced to a supporting role on “Law and Order: Special Victims Unit”), goes around the country and has conversations with rappers.  They talk about the good old days, maybe share some sort of revelation about their craft, and then get a verse to rap.  Except Kanye West, who – surprise, surprise – has to basically break into a full song.

Perhaps its the same problem I had with “Waking Sleeping Beauty” in the sense that Ice-T makes the documentary with the sensibility of a DVD extra.  “Something From Nothing” feels like a movie made by the rappers, about the rappers, and ultimately for the rappers.  Unless you are a crazily obsessive fan, I don’t really think this movie holds much to excite you.

It’s also ridiculously long at a swollen running time of nearly two hours.  Ice-T could have easily knocked off 15 minutes from the film if he had edited out all of the excessive aerial establishing shots.  Yes, I know they look pretty, Ice-T!  But surprise, everybody has seen shots like these a million times.  Another 15-30 minutes could have been excised from the interviews, which are often bloated by throwing unfounded praises at the rappers.  I know it was Ice-T’s first movie, but that’s still no excuse for not knowing where the cutting room is.  C- / 


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REVIEW: Rock of Ages

20 06 2012

“Rock of Ages” – the movie too bad to be true.  This horrendous piece of schlock that profanes the movie musical as we know it is thankfully self-consciously corny.  The invitation to laugh at the film’s ridiculousness begins in the first minute when Julianne Hough’s archetypical naive Oklahoman good girl, Sherrie Christian, breaks out in song on the bus to Los Angeles, only to be quickly accompanied by the rest of the passengers.  Surely this movie can’t be for real, you immediately think.

Oh, but it only gets better … er, worse.  The movie quickly runs through the hard rock anthems of the ’80s as if it were selling you a TIME Life boxed set.  Except rather than hearing the original raspy-voiced rockers, we get to hear them sung by actors whose only pipes are situated firmly in their trailer.  Aside from Julianne Hough, a vocal virtuoso, all the decent singers are relegated to bit parts.  Ultimately, that’s not worth getting too upset about since Mary J. Blige and Catherine Zeta-Jones both overact their ridiculous caricatures so much that it negates their singing talents.

No, instead, we are treated to hear Alec Baldwin’s dreadful attempts to belt and Tom Cruise murder three halfway-decent songs as the stuporous superstar Stacee Jaxx.  (I’m just going to throw out my theory that he had a voice double – his singing voice sounded NOTHING like his speaking voice.)  I’m not terribly offended by his performance.  After all, being a child of the ’90s means that these songs hold no sentimental or nostalgic value for me, although I did like “Wanted Dead or Alive” before Cruise tried to sing it.  However, clearly no one learned anything from the Pierce Brosnan-“Mamma Mia!” fiasco, and what could have been an amusing cameo gets stretched out into an obnoxiously long Jack Sparrow impersonation.

Really, the problem with Stacee Jaxx is the same problem with “Rock of Ages” on the whole.  They start out amusing in their lunacy and prove worth a few good laughs.  But it just goes on far too long, just trying to find any excuse to throw another ’80s song into the mix for the soundtrack.  There comes a point where using one random off-the-cuff remark to cue a lavish musical number just becomes plain stupid, and it quickly wears out whatever good will you had in the beginning.  The longer it goes on, the more you begin to realize that “Rock of Ages” loses its chance to proclaim itself so bad it’s good.  Instead, it becomes so bad that it’s bearable.  C / 


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REVIEW: Safety Not Guaranteed

19 06 2012

Maybe my response is partly Pavlovian due to four seasons of conditioning from “Parks and Recreation,” but I thought just about everything Aubrey Plaza said or did was hilarious in “Safety Not Guaranteed,” a quirky indie comedy featuring the comedic dynamo.  At best, her muted enthusiasm elicits gut-wrenching laughs; at worst, a good and wholehearted chuckle that leaves no after-taste of guilt.  So forget Tom Cruise’s half-baked rocker impersonation and Adam Sandler’s self-parodic baby voice; this is the summer comedy you deserve to see.  And then maybe see twice.

Plaza plays Darius, a magazine intern in Seattle working for an aspiring Miranda Priestly (a lovely cameo by Mary Lynn Rajskub, best known as Chloe from “24”).  Suffering from a bad case of cubicle tedium, she escapes by going out on assignment with Jeff, a lazy Lothario played with appropriately little decency or discretion by Jake Johnson, and a fellow intern Arnau, an Indian intern whose life motto must be “work hard, computer game harder.”  Together, the three investigate a very odd classified ad seeking a time traveling companion.

Don’t expect “Back to the Future” from “Safety Not Guaranteed,” though; this comedy follows all the antics leading up to a trip to the future with Mark Duplass’ Kenneth, the enigmatic man who placed the ad.  Darius must track him down, entice him, and then woo him into allowing her to see the details that would make an interesting piece.  The lines between the story and real feelings quickly blur, but the film has plenty of tricks up its sleeves along with an abundance of fantastic lines and nuanced comedic performances to guarantee satisfaction.  B+ / 


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REVIEW: Seeking a Friend for the End of the World

18 06 2012

“Melancholia” or Melan-comedy?  Much like that awful pun to start this review, “Seeking a Friend for the End of the World” often teeters on the delicate see-saw of funny and just plain depressing.  In brief bursts, it often has moments of humor that can garner a chuckle.  Most of these jokes only play well to those with a love of irony and a willingness to accept a little bit of absurdity – because think too much and you might actually remember that these people are facing extinction.

That’s right, just as the title suggests, Lorene Scafaria’s debut feature opens at the close (a “Harry Potter” reference that should explain the earlier von Trier allusion).  This apocalypse, however, feels nothing like the impending pit of doom that forms in our stomachs when watching “Contagion” or “Take Shelter,” two films heralding a modern end of days.  Given three weeks notice of a massive asteroid impact that will end all life on Earth, we’ve been primed to expect massive riots, looting, and murder.

What Scafaria provides could perhaps best be described as “The Bucket List: Apocalypse Edition,” in which forty-year-olds simply act like college students by losing their inhibition for a brief period of time.  Cocaine, adultery, you name it!  But when the novelty of their “end of the world” party wears off, it’s time to get down to business – living out the romantic-comedy narrative that all of us must fulfill some time before we meet our maker.  Oh, and there’s also a tiny riot just for kicks to advance the plot.  In the quiet suburbs of New York City, you can barely tell that mankind’s demise is imminent because it feels so sanitized of conflict or anxiety.  “Apocalypse Now” or Apocalypse Lite?  (Sorry, couldn’t resist another one.)

Yet simply because Steve Carell’s vanilla, insurance-selling sad sack Dodge reluctantly falls in love with Keira Knightley’s pot-smoking, free-spirited hypersomniac Penny in an archetypical narrative does not mean that the movie realizes that and tailors our experience to fit such a pattern.  Instead, “Seeking a Friend” settles to provide a slightly satisfying film while it suffers from genre confusion.  It toggles with high concept comedy a la “Horrible Bosses,” a road trip comedy a la “Due Date,” a meditation on loneliness a la “Up in the Air,” and, of course, the conventional opposites attract rom-com.  While Knightley is all over the place, Carell excels by going dark and deep like he did in “Little Miss Sunshine,” although a fine performance can’t mask this film’s flaws.  As much on screen as it must have been on the page, “Seeking a Friend” is really just seeking a genre.  B- / 


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REVIEW: Post Tenebras Lux

3 06 2012

Cannes Film Festival

There is a fine line between art film and a nutcase who happens to have a camera and a reel of Kodak; Carlos Reygadas walks the wrong side of that line with his movie “Post Tenebras Lux.” It’s everything you could ever hate about impressionistic film all served to you on a silver platter in just one movie. It would have been an almost humorous form of torture had I not been subjected to it myself, although it become a quick punchline and punching bag afterwards.

To be fair, Reygadas’ film, a collection of totally unrelated scenes including a bathhouse orgy, a young girl chasing cows in a rainstorm, people chopping down trees in a forest, and a man literally pulling his own head off his body, is practically begging to be lampooned. It’s like a five-year-old missed the door for “Cars 2” and then accidentally stumbled into “The Tree of Life,” suddenly receiving a revelation that they could shoot pretty shots of nature too and tie them together. I now even further appreciate Malick and his Palme D’Or-winning film from 2011 as sometimes it takes someone doing something so horribly wrong to make you appreciate someone who does it right.

At least Malick had purpose with his film. Reygadas is just self-indulgent and an aimless vagabond wandering around with a camera, stringing together vaguely similar shots and scenes with laughable dialogue and an annoyingly grippy kaleidoscope lens. There are no themes to be had here, no story to be found. Just beams of light emanating from a projector, empty, pointless, and void of purpose. D / 


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