Chop Shop (USA, 2007, Ramin Bahrani)

(For a change) Dan Begins:

Having finally gotten around to seeing Chop Shop, I am (a) upset with myself for not paying more attention to those who lauded the film when it was released (b) now extremely anxious to see Man Push Cart. Chop Shop is a great piece of cinema, as vital and impressive in its own way as 400 Blows is in its. This is high praise indeed, for, as you know, I consider Truffault's debut effort a great film.

There is much to praise in Ramin Bahrani's Chop Shop. The film's setting, Queen's "Iron Triangle," and subject matter, which focuses on the marginalized and disenfranchised, a community of hard working people leading hardscrabble lives, are good starting points. It is rare to find a film that honestly and artfully portrays workers and (mostly) people of colour in their milieu. The world of the Iron Triangle, a third world environment in the midst of plenty, is a delapitated corner of the urban environment, populated by a multiethnic mix of car repairmen who must compete for auto shop business. Some do less legitimate work in the titular chop shops, but all are etching out a living as they know how. There is nothing "Dickensian" about director Rahrani's treatment of these people. These are not pitied or mourned, nor are they idealized in a condescending "salt of the earth" kind of way. The folks we meet in Chop Shop are simply human beings doing their best. They are presented in the roundness of their humanity, sometimes angry, sometimes playful, occasionally passionate, intermittently frustrated. They live on the periphery, many pushed to the fringes of the world of privilege that surrounds them in New York City, but they are neither embittered nor despairing. This is the world they are in, and they are doing whatever needs to be done to get by in it.

Another great strength of the film are the two leads, 12 year old Ale (Alejandro Polanco) and 16 year-old sister Isa (Isamar Gonzales) who play possibly orphaned siblings whose affection for each other is unquestioned and unstated, but evident in gesture and deed. It may be an overstatement to say they cling to each other like flotsam from a wreckage, but there is an intensity to their relationship due at least partially to the difficulty of their situation that comes through in their natural, palpable chemistry and which pays emotional dividends throughout the film. They plan for a better future, while buffeting the sort of blows that a privileged society often inflicts upon its less privileged citizenry. And while hopes are raised only to be dashed, and reams awaken to grim nightmare, Isa and especially Ale, the real force behind their scheming, persist, refusing to be crushed by disappointment. Ale has a ferocity that is heroic.

Remember how we were struggling to come up with titles of movies that show children in a community, engaged in meaningful activity and labour that I can show in film studies? Well, we don't need to struggle any longer. Bahrani has captured an entire community at work and play here, showing, among many other things, the mentoring relationships in the auto shops, as youth are apprenticed to journeyman, who are themselves under the supervision of a master craftsmen. Nor is this power relationship sugarcoated, as Ale is reprimanded (twice) for having the audacity to count his wages in front of his boss. In one of the film's many nods to neo-realism, Rob Sowulski plays himself, and acquits himself quite nicely.

Attesting to Bahrani's cinematic chops, thei film is a gritty, realistic drama shot on the cheap in only three weaks, yet it is rife with poetical imagery that informs and deepens the movie's themes. Whether it is the flip flop being carried away on the flood waters, or the tenacity of the pit bull clamping down on its target, The director shows a lyricist's eye, which serves his storyteller's sense of drama very well. Perhaps the best expression of both is found in the restorative denouement that has the same effect on us as the resilient Giulietta Masini's glance into the camera at the end of Fellini's brilliant Nights of Cabiria.

Chop Shop is a gem because it is brimming with humanity; the film feels as real as the keyboard beneath my fingers. It is honest. Truthful, even. And as John Keats noted nearly twoo hundred years ago, "'Beauty is truth, truth beauty,' - that is all/Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."

Ramin Bahrami's Chop Shop is a real beauty.

Then Ben:

Suffice to say that having already seen Goodbye Solo I brought high expectations to Bahrani's two earlier works and I was not disappointed. ("Suffice to say," why do I every use this phrase? As if I could ever let a line or two suffice.)

For me, Bahrani's second film is better than his first and his third film is better than his second - and I say this with the opinion that his first film is staggeringly excellent. For me the greatness of Bahrani is what I previously called "mensch humanism," meant to denote a profound dialectic of despair and hope, wretchedness and dignity. I rank the films according to the degree this dialectic seems to me to be achieved. I hold that the best realism taps into this dialectic in a big way, not giving over to a false priority for either comedic vitality or tragic entropy. This is the essential realist rule, for narrative art forms at least, not some superficial preoccupation with mimetic standards.

If the essence of narrative realism did have to do with authentic representation, the immaginative accurately mimicking the factual, then it would be possible to make the mistake of thinking that Bahrani's films are becoming increasingly unrealistic insofar as they becoming increasingly hopeful. This is to acknowledge that Man Push Cart is a nearly hopeless story. It comes down to a level of almost brute survival instead of human resilience, so low, isolated and optionless is the protagonist by the end of the film. The prospects for the main character of Chop Shop fall somewhere between this and the irrepressible optimism of Solo and his family. The bleak foreseeable immediate future for the central figure in Chop Shop is mitigated by the untapped prepubescent potential of his obvious intelligence and drive, a sense of community, however provisional and tenuous, and one sibling to embrace and be embraced by.

I am prepared to make another large theoretical claim about narrative realism. It is more sociological and less psychological. More precisely, it is sociological explicitly and psychological implicitly. According to this criterion, film is the art form par excellence for narrative realism because film is technically best able to show from the outside-in rather than tell from the inside-out. Be this theory as it may, the inner workings of the protagonist in Man Push Cart are even less on display than they are for William in Goodbye Solo and the gravity of this is almost too intense to bear. Yet, we ultimately find it easier to rationalize the behavior of the cart man because, unlike William, he is not suicidal and key bits of backstory information are provided; especially that he is grieving the recent loss of a loved one. Chop Shop is more candid about what the protagonist is feeling inside, mostly because kids simply cannot conceal themselves like adults do. Unfortunately, kid actors simply cannot reveal themselves like adult actors can and there is one scene in Chop Shop that for me fell dramatically short because of this. On the other hand, the character is given no backstory whatsoever and this makes his matter-of-fact circumstance that much more of a dramatic plight and ethical outrage. Jesus, the child has no home.

Last thought (for now). There's more going on cinematographically in Bahrani's films than might meet the eye. Like Herzog and Ozu and other less-is-more masters, he can make the mundane appear interesting; the dreary, beautiful. But what really stands out for me is the way he repeatedly shows an object or a setting from a wide range of perspectives over the course of a film, compelling us to reconsider this seemingly mundane and dreary thing from another point of view. It starts to become interesting and sometimes beautiful; but even more, complex and significant. The layering of imagery approaches symbolism. On this score, I would have to give Chop Shop the edge over the other two films, and maybe over the other two directors as well.

I agree with Ebert. Bahrani is the new great American director.

Who Framed Roger Rabbit? (1988, USA, Robert Zemekis)

An army of special effects wizards is responsible for creating this breakthrough work that is an awesome and seamless combination of live action and animation. Who Framed Roger Rabbit expertly combines elements of film noir with the wacky slapstick conventions of animated features, all at the service of story with some serious thematic concerns. Based loosely on Gary K. Wolf's 1981 novel Who Censored Roger Rabbit?, and inspired by the energy and style of the classic cartoons of Tex Avery and Bob Clampett, the movie was originally slated to be directed by Terry Gilliam, but due to "pure laziness on my part" he stepped aside and Bob Zemeckis took the helm. The most impressive aspect of the film is that the animated characters, amidst the manic and anarchic energy of their prescribed roles, are taken seriously and become real, living characters who exist in a completely fascinating world with its own physical and moral laws, and whose dilemmas draw us in and elicit our empathy. Set in 1947 Los Angeles California, Who Framed Roger Rabbit follows the sleuthing of Bob Hoskins, whose portrayal of Eddie Valiant is as gritty and abrasive as sandpaper; his misanthropic gumshoe as dark as any Raymond Chandler creation. The implicit parallels between Tinseltown's treatment of the 'toons and the nation's abuse of racial minorities are carefully developed, and rather than overwhelm the film, they intelligently augment it. Kathleen Turner, who does her best Barbara Stanwyck impersonation while lending her vocal talents to the voluptuous Jessica Rabbit, is a standout, as is Christopher Lloyd as the despicable Judge Doom. The film's final reveal of Judge Doom's real identity further serves to deepen and amplify its themes without being unnecessarily pointed.  A groundbreaking film, notable for both as a technical achievement and quality entertainment, Who Framed Roger Rabbit won four Academy Awards, including one for Richard Williams, the director of animation.

My Favourite Films of the Past Ten Years

With the caveat that I am not calling this list my "Favourite of the Decade" because I'm not really convinced the that decade is over (don't our decades begin with the year ending in the number one, not zero? And aren't the last years of any decade the ones that end in zero? Because we began our calendar with the year ONE, not the year ZERO, correct?)

So, with that off my chest, let me note that I am gonna do this slightly differently than most other lists of this sort that you are gonna see. Rather than throw all the films into a giant vat to compete against each other, at least at first I'm gonna list my favourites year by year, along with the names of any notable films that either (a) made the decision a difficult one at the end of the year (b) could have been the number one pick in a "weaker" year. Then, when done, I will toss 'em all together and rank the "winners" to give you my top ten of the past ten. And for those who do their homework and uncover my best of lists from back in the day, and discover that these lists don't match up with those, I reserve the right to change my opinion about any film. Time, reflection and repeated viewing has a way of settling matters, and there's every chance that if I revisited this exercise ten years from now, the list would be altered again. I'm not a slave to consistency on these matters.

All that said, here goes:

2000  O Brother Where Art Thou? (hon. men: In the Mood for Love, Dancer in the Dark)

2001  Mulholland Dr. (Memento, Audition, The Man Who Wasn't There, LOTR:FOTR, Moulin Rouge)

2002  Spirited Away (Talk to Her, 25th Hour, Y Tu Mama Tambien, Gerry, City of God)

2003  Dogville  (Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter...And Spring, All the Real Girls, Kill Bill Vol. 1, LOTR: ROTK). Probably my favourite year of the past ten, movie-wise.

2004  Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (Before Sunset, Primer)

2005  2046 (Brokeback Mountain, Grizzly Man, A History of Violence, Kung Fu Hustle)

2006  Once (Lives of Others, Away from Her, When the Levees Break)

2007  Into the Wild (There Will be Blood, Sweeney Todd, No Country for Old Men, ADDITION: Climates)

2008  Hunger  (Chop Shop, The Wrestler, WALL-E. 4 Mo. 3 Wks. 2 Days)

2009  A Serious Man (Up! The Messenger, Goodbye Solo, Inglourious Basterds)

A fine ten years for the Coens, despite some pretty weak material in the middle of it (anyone really want to see or recall Intolerable Cruelty? The Ladykillers?) And while I loves me some Kim Ki-Duk, Wong Kar-Wai and Hiroki Miyazaki, I am also reminded by this list that I MUST see more foreign language films, dammit!

Finally, here are the films ranked, counting down like they do when launching rockets...

Honorable Mentions

Once, A Serious Man, (addition: Climates), Spirited Away, 2046, Talk to Her, 25th Hour, Kill Bill, Primer, Chop Shot, The Wrestler and Up!

The Top Ten

10. Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter and ... Spring (Korea, Kim Ki-Duk)

9. Mulholland Dr. (USA, D. Lynch)

8. Into the Wild (USA, S. Penn)

7. In the Mood for Love (Hong Kong, Wong Kar-Wai)

6. Memento (USA, C. Nolan)

5. O Brother Where Art Thou? (USA, Coen Bros.)

4. Before Sunset (USA, R. Linklater)

3. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (USA, M. Gondry)

2. Dogville (European Common Market, L. Von Trier)

1. Hunger (UK, S. McQueen)

Into the Wild (2007, USA, Sean Penn)


Ben sez:

I am going to begin with a theoretical discussion but this should not give the impression that ITW did not move me emotionally. It did. In fact, I was quite affected by it. I will reflect on this momentarily but for now I will simply state that ITW is the best film from 2007 that I have seen so far; you know, from the bunch you have lent me, No Country For Old Men, There Will Be Blood and Michael Clayton. I will also preface the next paragraph by saying, when I am stimulated to think theoretically, I am appreciative of that stimulation. This is to acknowledge that ITW is socio-philosophically meaningful.

What makes a hermit be a hermit? I can think of three main orientations. The first is that of the religious mystic out to connect directly to God without any sort of social mediation. The second belongs to the absolutely individualistic pragmatist who aims to survive without the assistance of human technologies to the highest degree achievable. The third is associated with misanthropy so sincere it is usually taken to be indicative of mental illness. Indeed, the other two have also often been condemned as crazy. Considering that these orientations are distinct from each other only categorically, that they tend to intertwine in actual psychologies, hermits have generally been labelled as insane regardless of their motives. And at least since the advent of Romanticism, the three orientations have self-consciously overlapped conceptually, often consolidating into an idealization of Nature. It is also easy to dismiss hermits as hypocrites given the basic impossibility of their purported project, which necessarily proves to be partial and temporary and sometimes just stupidly fatal. From the point of view of materialist socialism, the challenge the hermit sets for himself is misguided, to put it mildly. The worthwhile critique of existing society posited by Romanticism quickly devolves into a near-nihilistic negation of civilization as such in the form of wilderness worship. The hermit is merely a concentrated expression of this dead-end, ideologically illuminating only because of the extreme atomism involved.

The narrative structure of ITW jumps between the time leading up to Alaska and the time in Alaska, no doubt, to craft a drama that avoids being a non-drama. Of the three "classic" themes we teach in highschool, both Man vs. Nature and Man vs. Himself can be a little dull on the dramatic front, so ITW is crafted to allow for some interactions with other people. Stylistically, this might seem like a valid approach and stylistically it is. Conceptually, however, it is a cop-out, a failure to take head on the hermit issue. Of course, the responsibility is to tell the protagonist's story from beginning to end, to give a genuinely whole biographic picture, to provide all the so-called back-story that historically conditions the final hermit chapter. But the story-telling decision not to deal with this chronologically but rather to jump between the two time frames, this is not just stylistically expedient. It signals a lack of nerve when it comes to the central topic of his hermit-ism and the option of subjecting it to at least some line of criticism.

This brings me to the fact that the film is based on a true story. In the closing credits, the film-maker Sean Penn thanks the real family for their cooperation in the making of the film and goes even further to acknowledge their bravery in doing so. No doubt. The parents of the protagonist are portrayed in a very unsympathetic light, their transformative anguish notwithstanding. So I agree that it took courage for them to endorse the film, (same for the book that inspired it, I suppose). At the same time, their son is presented as a Christ who redeems them of their sins, who ultimately forgives them for their transgressions against everyone, especially himself. I can accept this as far as it goes; that is, as it pertains to the particular psycho-dynamics of their family. I can even get with this to some extent as it expands to address the class standing and bourgeois values of his family that he casts off like Siddartha, which is to say I admire the Romantic critique of capitalism as far as it goes. But at bedrock, ITW is just too reverential of the protagonist and him being based on the tragic real life of Christopher McCandless is an excuse that also only goes so far. On this score, Wikipedia tell me that a documentary has been made about McCandless and the Denver Film Society tells me that documentarian Ron "Lamothe asks us to consider whether the facts of McCandless' life are as compelling as the opportunity they provide for subverting, as much as celebrating, the romantic paradigm he has come to embody."

Turning from critical theory to my emotional response, I had no idea ITW was based on a true story until the end of the movie. Many days prior to viewing, I had head from Monica that it was sort of a Grizzly Man thing, i.e., an adventure in the great outdoors the comes to a bad, sad end, but I had no reason to think that it was not entirely fictitious. Fifteen minutes prior to viewing, I heard from Jacob that it was a survivalist tale and since Max likes reading these, I invited him to watch ITW with Jacob and me, (Monica was at the theatre). Watching it with my children, male children no less, definitely influenced my experience of it. The only askance criticism of Alex Supertramp in the film is his total non-communication with his parents and with my kids on either side of me I really felt this in my bones. Concurrently, I could perceive that both boys, even the younger one, could relate to Supertramp's quest to go it alone and be true to his soul. They had to grapple with his rejection of - not weath in the abstract - but creature comforts down on the ground. And all of us had to deal with the problem of such a socially-conscious and personable guy, really attractive in so many ways, walking away from other people, including us in the audience. By the time the still photo of the real McCandless came up, we were pretty broken up.

A bit too much Eddie Vedder music, a bit too much cinematographic beauty, a bit heavy-handed in the juxtapostion of the city and the countryside, and the sporadic voice-over from the sister was awkward and irritating (as voice-over is wont to be) - but all in all a remarkably graceful film. Authentically sensitive and often endearing, there are moments of naive profundity in the dialogue and performances of quite dignity. The lead brought more range to the characterization than I suspected he would from the outset and Penn managed to avoid the trap of turning the biography into a heroic travalogue. The artistic stength of ITW resides in this, in my view. For all of his obviously Romantic sympathy for Chris McCandless, Penn does not mythologize Alex Supertramp.

I just want to issue a special award to Hal Holbrook. Never mind that he's "Hal Holbrook" and an octogenarian and all that. He turns in a killer performance. Guy fucked me up even before the big farewell scene. One of those cameos that just raises the level of everything lucky enouch to be associated with it.

I finish by reiterating my opening comment about this being the best film from 2007 that I have seen. Although I ultimately cannot sign on for the Romanticism of the film, it touched me and made me think and it did so with respect for both its subject matter and its audience.

And Dan:

Long before I lent you my dvd of the film I told you this was my favourite film of 2007, so I am glad to see we are back on the same page. Needless to say, I concur with almost everything you say here. I was very attached emotionally to the film's romanticism, even while I was critically attacking it intellectually. Holbrook delivers a stellar performance, while Emile Hirsch is a revelation in the central role. More importantly, Sean Penn's work as a director cannot be lauded enough. His film is a touching and honest tribute to one questing vagabond, to this beautiful if ill-prepared and starry-eyed pilgrim soul, part Thoreau, part Kerouac, and Penn does a commendable job of capturing, honouring and questioning McCandless's journey. And yet, it is not a fauning tribute, as Penn takes a more moderate approach to the protagonist, presenting McCandless as neither a heroic nor a tragic figure, but as a charismatic, single-minded, flawed and wounded individual trying to find his place in the world. Penn clearly sees a lot of himself in the character, just as Krakauer (the author of the book upon which the film is based) did before him. And I must confess that I fall into the same camp. Watching the film was an intensely intimate and personal experience as a result.

Having already read Krakauer's book, I knew exactly what was coming, yet Penn (and Hirsch) made every moment a revelation nonetheless. I can think of no higher compliment than to point out that while I always knew what was coming, this did nothing to lessen the film's impact; by the end, I was completely devastated.

Counting down: My top ten films of 2009

10. Coraline

9. Brothers Bloom

8. Silent Light
7. In the Loop

6. Tulpan

5. Inglourious Basterds

4. Goodbye Solo

3. The Messenger

2. Up!

1. A Serious Man

Witness for the Prosecution (1957, USA, Billy Wilder)

Tyrone Power plays Leonard Vole, a man accused of murder in the Billy Wilder courtroom whodunnit, Witness for the Prosecution. After receiving a large inheritance from rich widown Emily French, Vole is suspecting of her murder, while coming to his defence and risking his health is famed but ailing lawyer Sir Wildred Robarts (Charles Laughton). Rounding out the all star cast is Marlene Dietrich, who plays the titular character as well as Mr. Vole's wife, Christine. What follows are a series of plot twists that conclude with another murder, and another court case and a new defendant for Sir Robarts.

Witness for the Prosecution is multi-faceted director Billy Wilder's stab at the courtroom genre, and he handles it with aplomb. Reworking Agatha Christie's stage play, based on Christie's own short story, Wilder retools the play in order to develop a humorous subtext in the interplay between the physically fragile defense attorney (Laughton) and his overbearing but well-meaning nurse (real-life wife Elsa Lanchaster). Laughton and Lanchaster have great chemistry and give fully realized performances that transcend the limitations of the genre. Wilder also jiggers Marlene Dietrich's role to make use of moments from her personal life, particularly the wonderful "Berlin cabaret" flashback sequence. The twists and turns of the plot are allowed to emerge unobtrusively in this methodically paced drama, and while the finale stretches credulity in order to circumvent the inevitable Production Code restrictions, Wilder's film is a completely satisfying experience anchored by a handful of memorable performances, including the last in Tyrone Power's illustrious career. Witness for the Prosecution was nominated for six Academy Awards, but ran up against David Lean's The Bridge on the River Kwai juggernaut, and was shut out.

Here is the trailer: