RECENT WATCHES: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (2001)

I went through a “Harry Potter” phase. I was in the sixth grade and the “Goblet of Fire” hadn’t come out yet. After hearing so much praise for the series, my mom ordered the first three books from the Science Fiction Book Club. I was immediately sucked in, quickly working my way through the novels. The fourth book came out soon afterwards, which I subsequently devoured. The film adaptations fed my frenzy for the wizard world. “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone” – “Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone” to you limeys – was an honest-to-God pop culture event when it hit theaters in 2001. In the lengthy wait between the fourth and fifth book, I lost interest in the Potter-verse. Though I read the other books and have watched the other movies, I’ve always felt like I outgrew this particular franchise.

Many other people, it must be said, have not. “Harry Potter” remains beloved by audiences young and old. I’ve met these people and I can’t share their passion. I never wanted to go to Hogwarts. I never wanted to be a Gryffindor or any of that shit. I went through a stage were I wanted to be a wizard but one of the badass ones that fights demons and shoot fireballs, not the type that takes potion classes. Not that anyone should want to go to Hogwarts, considering how dangerous this prestige academy apparently is. My biggest grievance with the world J.K. Rowling created, adored by millions, is how separated the wizarding world is from the non-magical one. Never once has human civilization notice this enormous magical society co-habituating along side it? Not even when a war breaks out in the later entries? For that matter, how possible is it that regular humanity and the magically inclined world have never come into conflict? It all strikes me as deeply unlikely.

Which isn’t to say they’re aren’t aspects I appreciate about the “Potter” films. The production design is aces. Hogwarts is an amazing looking world. The school is an elaborate castle. A sequence devoted to the shifting staircases beyond the dormitories is an imaginative shot. Ghosts, including the nicely morbid touch of John Cleese’s Nearly Headless Nick, roam the hallways. Photos and paintings spring to life. The dining hall has an animated ceiling, showing a night sky. During the holidays, Jack o’Lanterns or Christmas candles float above the tables. John Williams, always reliable to create an immediately recognizable theme, provides a fantastic score.

The set design, costumes, and production design are all top of the line. What of the CGI? Back in 2001, the digital effects were considered cutting edge. Fifteen years later, they look incredibly dated. The film relies far too much on the primitive computer generated images, bringing all its major creatures to life in this manner. This leads to a cartoonish looking blue troll or an unconvincing three-headed dog. Even worst, when the actors have to interact with these entities, they are transformed into equally fake looking CGI models. Attempts to make these rough digital creatures into characters, like a talking centaur, aren’t effective due to the obvious fault of the shaky effects. By trying to prove how high tech it could be, the film ended up exceeding its reach.

Most of the sequences designed to be exciting come off as a bit dry. The three kids attempting to escape the three-headed dog is also undermined by some soft CGI. A later challenge, involving Harry and Hermione wiggling out of strangling vines, generates zero suspense. The Quidditch game, though clearly the centerpiece of the film, has a similar problem. Everything about it is just a bit too light, a little too harmless to produce proper thrills. Other scenes are a little better. The Wizard’s Chess sequence, in which the three wizards have a play on a giant chess board, works a little better. First off, the large stone chess pieces look pretty cool. The scene also relies on practical effects, giving quite a bit more weight to the danger ahead.

In the months leading up to the film’s release, there was a worldwide search to cast the three lead roles. While “Sorcerer’s Stone” would make a few mistakes, its casting wasn’t one of them. Daniel Radcliffe not only looks exactly like Rowling described Harry, he also fits perfectly into the role. He’s curious, slightly reckless, but ultimately heroic. Rupert Grint, though a little rough around the edges, is well suited to Ron, who is still mostly goofy comic relief by this point. Emma Watson, who would arguably have the best career of the three, is brainy without being smug, showing a maturity in the way she instills flaws into the part.

The supporting cast is uniformly excellent, loaded with some of the best British character actors around. Richard Harris embodies Dumbledore, as an unerringly wise mentor with a hidden sense of humor. Robbie Coltrane is, likewise, perfectly cast as Hagrid, who is as imposing as the character need be without loosing the warmth and goofiness that characterizes him. Maggie Smith as McGonagall is more strict but also shows a quiet sense of humor, albeit one that is more puckish. Of the supporting cast, Alan Rickman is perhaps best cast as Snape. Rickman is extremely good at making sinister acts look extremely fun, which makes him an ideal pick for the part. There’s even a few major names in minor roles, such as John Hurt as the wand shop owner or John Cleese as the ghost Nearly Headless Nick.

There are other story elements in the film that I take umbrage with, quite a few inherited from the source material. Professor Snape is obviously a red herring. The character spend nearly the entire film assuming him to be evil, when it’s quite obvious that he isn’t. Even as a kid, reading the book for the first time, this bothered me. When the true villain is revealed at the end, he immediately explains all the events that happened up to that point, dumping a huge load of exposition on the reader. Harry, despite being the story’s hero, gets a lot of help along the way. He would’ve been dead many times over if not for Hermione’s smarts, Dumbledore’s guidance, and Ron’s previously unstated mastery of chess. It’s only at the very end, when confronted with the antagonist, that Harry actually takes action, the eleven year old boy burning the bad guy to death. Even that is thanks to a bullshit revelation about the power of love.

In more ways then one, “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone” is a lightweight children’s film. Its mood remains light, even when things get more serious. There’s a lot of holes in the logic and story that young viewers will accept at face value. I guess these things stick in my teeth. But it’s not a bad film. The production design is great, the cast is quite good, and it’s overall an inoffensive way to spend two and a half hours. But the “Harry Potter” franchise would go to more interesting places before it was over. [6/10]

Director Report Card: Terry Zwigoff (2006)

5. Art School Confidential

After the mainstream success of “Bad Santa,” Terry Zwigoff returned to a previous source of inspiration. The director decided to re-team with Daniel Clowes, the comic book writer/artist behind “Ghost World.” Together, they would expand one of Clowes’ shorter works, “Art School Confidential,” into a feature film. The resulting film did not recreate “Ghost World’s” cult popularity. “Art School Confidential” did poorly at the box office and received mostly negative reviews. Zwigoff hasn’t directed another movie since.

Ever since he was young, Jerome has liked to draw. This has often been his sole defense against a world that mocks and rejects him. After high school, Jerome is accepted into Strathmore University, an art college of minor renown. However, Jerome finds difficulty integrating himself at Strathmore. His traditional artwork isn’t well received by his artsy fartsy class mates and professors. He has trouble getting the attention of Audrey, the object of his affection. Jerome’s troubles are multiplied when he’s caught up with the serial killer who is currently strangling people across the campus.

Despite the Clowes connection, “Art School Confidential” has more in common with Zwigoff’s “Bad Santa” then “Ghost World.” As in the director’s holiday comedy, the film is characterized by a mean-spirited, cynical tone. “Art School Confidential” bluntly gets at the motivation behind every artistic endeavor. In the first scene, Jerome as a young boy is beaten up by a pair of bullies. Afterwards, he takes out his frustration by drawing a picture mocking his attackers. As a teenager, Jerome attempts to gain a crush’s attention with an illustration. The movie flatly states this already apparent theme later on: Most art is motivated by frustration or horniness. It’s a brutally honest but not exactly deep reading of the artistic mind.

On the surface, “Art School Confidential” seems like a feature length version of the art school scenes in “Ghost World.” This is, sadly, a fairly accurate description. In “Ghost World,” Enid’s traditional pencil drawings were dismissed in favor of abstract, pretentious work. In “Art School Confidential,” Jerome’s similarly themed drawings are ignored or actively mocked by his teachers and classmates. Instead, sketchy or nonsensical artwork is praised. An amateurish and childish scribbles of another student – actually an undercover cop with no artistic background – becomes the talk of the campus. His lack of skill is seen as an intentional subversive of artistic norms. The artistic community ignores real skill in favor of hogwash. This hypocrisy is what the majority of the film is built upon. “Art School Confidential” has nothing else to say beyond this and repeats this point endlessly.

A big difference between “Ghost World” and “Art School Confidential” is its main character. Enid had her rough edges and was deeply unsympathetic at times. However, the viewer ultimately related to and liked her. Jerome, meanwhile, is not so personable. He’s actively rude to his classmates, laughing at and brutally criticizing other’s work. After the many hardships visited upon him, Jerome develops a nihilistic streak. He begins to curse the world. He’s a hateful sad sack, whose frustrations cause him to act like an asshole to everyone around him. Max Minghella, an actor of minor renown, cannot rise above his character’s innate prickliness. That leaves the audience without a safe harbor in an often off-putting film. 

Jerome is also, pointedly, a virgin. His quest to get laid and find love leads him to Sophia Myles’ Audrey. He immediately puts the girl on a pedestal, awkwardly attempting to win her heart. The film feeds into the narrative of the frustrated nerd jilted by the object of his affection too easily. Soon, it appears that Audrey has another boyfriend, which Jerome witnesses, causing him to spiral into despair. The biggest problem is that Audrey is barely a character. The film attempts to flesh her out, by featuring a former female lover. Sophia Myles’ performance is slightly on the flat side. As lovely as she is, it’s hard to imagine anyone being as obsessed with her as Jerome is.

“Art School Confidential” is, nominally, a comedy. About half way through, “Art School Confidential” veers wildly towards depression, becoming a dark film with few laughs to be had. This is at odds with its first half, which features several rather broad sequences. Jerome’s attempts to get laid puts him contact with a screaming beatnik chick and a girl who plays with stuffed animals. A group of illustrators in a live modeling class are instead presented with a saggy, unattractive man. The film seems to delight in showing his floppy penis. Later, a montage shows student preparing projects, which involves someone taking photos of his ball sack or leaping, nude, onto a canvas. One of Jerome’s roommates is an obviously closeted man. By the end, he’s comfortable with his sexuality, sleeping with a rather flamboyant partner. This subplot is especially useless. These scenes rarely get laughs and create an overly cartoonish tone. It also makes the film’s later lurch towards seriousness harder to swallow.

Perhaps realizing that sexual and artistic frustration wasn’t enough to build a film upon, “Art School Confidential” also features a bizarre subplot about a serial killer on campus. This storyline obviously seems like a last minute addition to the script, as it barely connects with the other plot elements. The sequences of people being strangled, often filmed from a first person perspective, seemingly belong to a different movie. In an attempt to tie this stuff in with the story proper, a cop goes undercover as a student. Played by Matt Keesler, of “The Middleman” fame, Jonah’s story arc is easy to predict. He gets overly invested in the art world, distracting from his actual mission. Weirdly, the scenes of his personal life are scripted with the same exaggerated, mean-spirited attitude as the art school scenes. Over all, the entire serial killer subplot is badly implemented into the film.

“Ghost World” mostly lacked the interest in deviant sexuality that has cropped up throughout Terry Zwigoff’s other films. Despite being closer in tone to “Ghost World” then “Crumb,” “Art School Confidential” also features some forced-in, nasty weirdness. One of Jerome’s few friends is Bardo, an abrasive jerk played by Joel Moore. Bardo delights in judging and categorizing others. He acts as off-putting as possible. Through his friendship, Jerome meets Jimmy. An alcoholic, Jimmy lives in a seedy apartment. He lounges in a bathrobe and doesn’t mind when people vomit on his floor. Jimmy is also the campus strangler, something the film is too eager to reveal. As off-putting as these elements are, Jim Broadbent’s performance as Jimmy is genuinely unnerving. The sadistic gleam in Broadbent’s eyes make the character quite frightening.

“Art School Confidential” does have a cast peppered with notable names. John Malkovich plays Professor Sandiford, Jerome’s primary art teacher. The character is poorly scripted, especially in a sequence that implies he’s hitting on Jerome. Like everyone else, he’s a shallow asshole. Malkovich, however, brings a coldly sardonic element to the part that amuses. Also present is Steve Buscemi as Broadway Bob, the owner of a local coffee shop/art gallery. Buscemi brings his expected energy and charisma to the minor part, enlivening his few scenes. Angelica Huston has even fewer scenes as another professor. However, a moment when she gives Jerome an encouraging speech is one of the film’s few hopeful spots.

Art majors aren’t the movie’s only target. It also makes fun of film majors. Jerome’s other roommate is Ethan Suplee’s Vince. An immense blowhard, Vince is introduced during a profane phone conversation. Vince is currently making a film about the campus strangler. His screenplay is full of gangsta’ style profanity. He inserts a love story, in order to appeal to women. When his actress is disgusted by the script, he adds a bunch of artsy sequence to appease her. This, in turn, confounds Vince’s uncle, his film’s primary financier. “Art School Confidential’s” criticism of young filmmakers is as shallow as its potshots at the art scene.

Eventually, Zwigoff’s film reaches some sort of point. Jerome takes other’s advice but is criticized. He follows Jonah’s lead but his work is dismissed. He steals the paintings of the serial killer, presenting them as his own. His colleagues aren’t impressed by this either and he ends up in jail for it. Once imprisoned, Jerome goes back to following his own creative voice and finally finds happiness. (Despite his infamy bringing him fame and attention.) Once you push aside all the obnoxious, petty nitpicks at art school, the film’s theme seems to be “Be yourself!” Which is not especially compelling.

After “Art School Confidential” failed to find an audience, Terry Zwigoff’s reaction matched the film’s tone. Instead of addressing the movie’s obvious flaws, he threw disparagement on other movies. This seems to suggests that the film’s very superficial and childish condemnation of art scene hypocrisies were totally sincere. An unlikable main character, a mean spirited tone, and a scrambled script makes “Art School Confidential” an unpleasant watch. Only a handful of notable performances makes the film worth seeking out. Perhaps if Zwigoff or Clowe were more willing to address the story’s concept, the result would’ve been more interesting. As it is, “Art School Confidential” is Zwigoff’s weakest film, an unsure and disagreeable misfire. [Grade: C]

Terry Zwigoff hasn't made a film since "Art School Confidential's" poor reception. Ocassionally, his name has resurfaced. Back in 2013, he was linked with two new projects. The first of which, "Justice for Al," was a legal tinged comedy meant to star Fred Armisen. The second was "Lost Melody," a dark comedy that would've starred Nicolas Cage. Can you imagine what that collabreation might've looked like? Obviously, neither of this films were made. It seems Zwigoff has difficulty securing funding but I hope, and certainly find it likely, that he will direct another movie someday. Until then, we'll always have "Ghost World."

Thus concludes the Terry Zwigoff Director Report Card. Thanks for reading. I'll be back tomorrow with more stuff.

Director Report Card: Terry Zwigoff (2003)

4. Bad Santa

“Bad Santa” is a film of contradictions. It’s a film about Christmas, that most family oriented and kid friendly of holidays, that is also an incredibly filthy comedy. It’s a crowd-pleasing mainstream comedy from a director best known for artistic independent films. It’s a low brow picture that wallows in its vulgarity, co-written by respected filmmakers Joel and Ethan Coen. This varied background is represented in the three separate versions of the film that exist. Yet maybe variety really is the spice of life. “Bad Santa” would become a sleeper hit, providing a much needed anecdote to the usual schmaltz of the Christmas season.

Willie Soke is a hateful scumbag who attempts to dull the pain of his miserable life with constant booze, sex, and violence. He’s also a mall Santa. Along with his little person partner, Marcus, he’s been riding the same scheme for years. After suffering through another Christmas season, the two rob the department stores while everyone is gone for the holiday. During their latest scheme, Willie has an unexpected encounter. An obese child believes him to actually be Santa Claus. Willie ends up living in the boy’s spacious house where the most unexpected thing happens… He starts to actually enjoy the kid’s company.

The main gimmick behind “Bad Santa” is right there in the title. It’s about a Santa Claus who misbehaves often and with gusto. The film follows that concept as long as it can. “Bad Santa” is maybe the most mean-spirited Christmas movie ever made, this side of “Silent Night, Deadly Night.” The film does not concern itself with the reason for the season, giving, family, or togetherness. In an early scene, Willie urinates while sitting on Santa’s throne. He quickly swears at the kids sitting on his lap. He screams profanity at a kid who tries to get his attention during lunch break. This anti-Christmas tone peaks during a sequence where Willie drunkenly stumbles into a Nativity, violently smashing it. Yet there’s some sort of point to “Bad Santa’s” misanthropy, as the film builds towards an anti-capitalism theme, exposing the greed and needless want that characterizes too many people’s Christmases.

“Bad Santa” seems determined to earn the severity of the adjective in its title. The film has an unerringly vulgar tone. In the very first scene, Willie vomits outside of a bar. The script is filled with a cornucopia of creative curses. Characters spew hateful dialogue peppered with more fucks and shits then you can count. Yet there’s a certain poetry to the profanity, the writers finding inventive ways to twist the vulgarity in clever, unexpected ways. “Bad Santa” also continues Terry Zwigoff’s obsession with deviant sex. Like Robert Crumb, Willie has a fetish for women with fuller hips and buttocks. A particular infamous sequence features him sodomizing a hefty woman in a dressing room. When not drinking, puking, fighting, or Santa Claus-ing, Willie is thinking about porking women or actually porking women. In other words, the movie more then earns its R rating.

“Bad Santa” is undeniably a dark comedy. Coming before pop culture’s current obsession with anti-heroes, Willie Soke is an anti-hero in the classical, Greek sense. He lacks the traditional heroic qualities. He’s an alcoholic. The character is surrounded by booze in nearly every scene. He tosses an glass bottle at a car window. Later, a cascade of empty cans and bottles fall out of his own vehicle when he opens the door. After all, he pisses on himself a lot too. Billy Bob Thornton has no problem playing a character this non-glamorous. Probably best known at the time for appearances in arty dramas like “Sling Blade,” “Monster’s Ball,” or “A Simple Plan,” “Bad Santa” would be the first of Thornton’s many appearances in low brow comedies. Despite Willie being a total scumbag, Thornton finds a humanity under the character’s bullshit. Somehow, he makes the character likable, despite all the terrible shit he does.

Willie’s literal partner in crime is played by Tony Cox. As displayed in various flicks like “Friday” and “Me, Myself and Irene,” Cox has a way with profane dialogue. “Bad Santa” gifts him with some real gems. He frequently insults Willie, informing him that he’s a serial fornicator, an emotional cripple, that his soul is full of dog shit. When arguing with another character, he spins out some especially entertaining and profane responses about the person’s wife. He maintains a straight face and total comedic composure even when delivering the script’s most brutal dialogue. Cox is perfect for the material, in other words.

At the heart of the film is Willie’s relationship with the young boy. Credited as the Kid, though we learn his name is “Thurman Merman” throughout the film, the character is a singularly bizarre creation. He speaks in a generally flat tone, rarely differing in his speech or body language. He constantly questions Willie about the particulars of being Santa Claus, which Thornton responses to with dead pan vulgarity. Merman rattles off bizarre facts about the Talking Walnut, gorillas, or wooden pickles. No wonder the character is constantly bullied by a gang of skateboard punks. He’s a genuine weirdo. Brett Kelly is well cast in the part, if nothing else.

“Bad Santa” doesn’t have time for empty platitudes, being an unerringly cynical flick full of nastiness. Yet when Willie and the Kid become friends, the film earns it. Merman making Willie a gift, and injuring himself in the process, gives the Bad Santa pause. After a spell of angry, drunken shouting, the Kid admits that he knows Willie isn’t Santa… But hopes that they’re friends. It’s genuinely disarming, contrasting against the film’s otherwise prickly edges. By the end, Willie might actually care about another human being. Both lost individuals learn something about self worth. “Bad Santa” actually preaches a Christmas feeling message about lost souls finding reasons to live through selfless acts. By wrapping it in R-rated ribaldry, it makes that message stronger.

A particularly infamous example of the film’s ribald content is the film’s romantic subplot. Willie hooks up with Sue, a Jewish girl with a fetish for Santa Clauses. This is another example of Zwigoff’s interest in paraphilias. However, that story turn serves another purpose. It gives a reason why a beautiful, funny, charming woman like Lauren Graham would ever be interested in a degenerate like Thornton’s Willie. I wish Graham was given more to do. She only has a handful of scenes and almost all of them have her in various states of undress. However, Graham does bring some sweetness to the role. It would be impossible for her not to, as Graham has an irrepressible screen presence. She also leaps towards the film’s explicit elements with vigor.

In addition to its hilarious leads, “Bad Santa” also includes two dynamite performances among the supporting cast. John Ritter, in his final role, plays Bob Chipeska, the manager of the mall Willie is working in. Ritter responses to Thornton’s extremely bad behavior with stunned shock. Instead of going big though, Ritter reins it all the way in, the character often speaking with a whisper. This was a wise decision, a deliberate reaction to the film’s raunchiness, making Ritter the straightest of straight men. Also notable is Bernie Mac, as another official in the mall. Mac gets several scenes to shine. Such as harassing a young shop-lifter or his refusal to change his end of an agreement. Like Ritter, Mac restrains his comedic energy, making a funnier, more controlled character. (Also like Ritter, Mac was gone before his time.)

As a comedy, “Bad Santa” doesn’t get laughs just by tossing four letter words and weird sex at the viewer. There are some inspired weirdness in the movie to, in line with some of “Ghost World’s” more off-beat moments. Outside a bar, Willie is accosted by an unhinged Middle Eastern man who tries to assault him. It’s an inexplicable, hilarious beat that comes and goes without explanation. Herman’s grandmother, played by Cloris Leachman, appears on the edge of death. However, even when other characters are certain she’s dead, she springs back to life, making sandwiches for everybody. Continuing “Ghost World’s” subtle critique of modern pop culture, Leachman’s near-death state is often contrasted with bright, lively television commercials. “Bad Santa” accents its vulgar streak with a likable weirdness, getting different types of laughs from the viewer.

“Bad Santa” shows Terry Zwigoff’s continuous evolution as a filmmaker. Upbeat, traditional Christmas songs, as well as classical music, score the film. This is a deliberate contrast between the film’s coarse content. Zwigoff’s camera is often creative. A shot I especially like follows Willie as he crashes to the floor, in yet another drunken stupor. The film’s use of editing is inspired. At the end, Zwigoff cuts between Marcus cutting down a mannequin with a golf club and Willie cracking a safe. As bawdy as the finished product may be, Zwigoff’s creative direction shows how thoughtful a film “Bad Santa” really is.

“Bad Santa’s” unexpected success would lead to multiple DVD releases. There’s an unrated cut, which was disowned by the director. Zwigoff’s director’s cut is actually several minutes shorter then the theatrically released version. Zwigoff’s preferred version removes a mostly superficial voice over, makes a mostly unnecessary addition of an on-screen murder, slightly changes the ending, and removes a few funny scenes I like. “Bad Santa” would also cause a spat of derivative films with “bad” in the title, that kept this one’s vulgarity but loss its heart. And now, thirteen years later, it’s spawned a dire looking sequel. Through it all, “Bad Santa” has become a good alternative Christmas movie pick. It’s content makes it a nice anecdote to the traditional schmaltz of the holiday while it still follows the spirit of the season, in its own demented way. [Grade: B+]

Director Report Card: Terry Zwigoff (2001)

3. Ghost World

Seven years passed between Terry Zwigoff’s critical break-through “Crumb” and his next feature film. That seems like a long time but, given that “Crumb” was hardly a commercial film, not too shocking. Zwigoff’s proud return to cinema was also his first entry into fictional storytelling. “Ghost World” is an adaptation of a short comic by Daniel Clowes, another prominent figure in the world of underground comics. Like “Crumb,” the movie would be beloved but critics but struggle to find a wide audiences. In other words, it’s another Terry Zwigoff film that was destined to be a cult classic even before it reached theaters.

Enid and Rebecca are two high school misfits who have just graduated. The two are extremely snarky, often making fun of anyone they deem less cool then them. Enid and Rebecca kill time by hanging out in restaurants, harassing their friends, and pulling pranks. One such gag involves calling a pathetic romantic want ad and standing the guy up. Enid, however, becomes fascinated with Seymour, the man who posted the ad. Soon, the two have formed a genuine friendship with undefined boundaries. Meanwhile, Rebecca gets a normal job, Seymour finds a girlfriend, and Enid’s dad decides to re-marry an old flame. The young girl feels lost amid her own life.

Daniel Clowes’ work shares a few things in common with R. Crumb’s, the subject of Zwigoff’s previous film. Both share a somewhat bitter outlook on the world. Both heavily criticize modern pop culture. “Ghost World” even features a handful of references to Crumb’s work, with a cameo appearance from a Cheap Suit Surrenders album. Both films, most importantly, balance morbidly funny laughs with an keen look at the weight of isolation and alienation. “Ghost World” is a perfectly Zwigoff-ian look at post-high school life, a neurotic but lovable film, equal parts misanthropic and humanistic.

“Ghost World” stars Thora Birch, who was just coming off a juicy part in a Best Picture winner. The character’s short black hair, thick rim glasses, and kitschy fashion sense essentially crystallized the post-millennial hipster look before it was even really a thing. In Enid, Birch finds a perfect host for her unique charms. The character is introduced rolling her eyes at as a disabled student bemoans the mistakes in her life during a graduation speech. Enid is too cool for everything, which might have made her deeply unlikable. Instead, Birch brings an incredible humor to the part, frequently making Enid’s sarcastic observations hilarious. Moreover, Birch is absolutely gorgeous in the movie. It’s a good thing I didn’t see “Ghost World” in high school, as another celebrity crush was the last thing I needed back then.

As funny and wry as Enid can be, “Ghost World” never lets her off the hook. The character freely tosses around “retarded” as a pejorative, which would be received as deeply un-PC these days. After graduating high school, she stomps her mortar board and flips off the school. She treats Seymour cruelly at first. She mocks people around her, like a waiter in a restaurant or normal people dining, who are just going about her day. Enid is employed at a movie theater for all of a day but is quickly fired for mocking the customers. She routinely treats Rebecca badly. Enid is vulnerable and hurting, struggling with the changes in her life. She can also be insufferable. In other words, it’s an honest portrayal of being a teenager. 

“Ghost World” would also emerge as an unexpectedly ideal vehicle for Steve Buscemi. Most well known for playing crooks and creeps at the time, Seymour is a distinctly different sort of role for Buscemi. Seymour is not entirely dissimilar from R. Crumb too. He wears drab, green clothes. He’s defined primarily by his love for early jazz and blues, hording a huge record collection and often spewing out obscure facts about the genre. He might also be inspired by Zwigoff’s own life, seeing as how the character has a boring office job and a bad back. Buscemi’s perfectly plays the discontent and unabashed nerdiness, a guy barely comfortable in his own skin. When Seymour occasionally looses his temper, yelling at people on the street, it’s refreshingly cathartic. Buscemi is funny, sweet, and down to Earth, creating a fully formed character that is more then just the collection of quirks he might’ve been with a lesser actor.

“Ghost World” eventually develops into a charmingly off-center love story. Enid has a way of getting under Seymour’s skin. She drags him into a porno shop, making him buy her a leather mask. While at a painfully dry party Seymour throws for his jazz nerd friends, Enid talks her way into seeing his private music collection. Soon, she’s trying to get him a date. The attempts, which feature a painful encounter in a bar with a “blues” band, mostly succeed in bringing Enid and Seymour closer. As Enid finds everyone around her having more success in adulthood, Enid and Seymour end up falling into bed together. “Ghost World” amazingly doesn’t stumble when handling the somewhat standard end of the second act story turns. Yes, Seymour discovers that Enid was initially making fun of him. The movie gracefully skips over the potentially tedious moment by having Enid outwardly admit her affection for Seymour. It’s such a sweet moment, when she shows him the art book full of drawings. Enid is being sincere – a mood she’s not in often – when she tells Seymour how he’s the opposite of everything she hates.

“Ghost World” somewhat infamously features an early role for Scarlett Johannson. Long before she became an international sex symbol and a comic book superhero, she was Enid’s best friend, Rebecca. Johannson is exceptionally dry in the part, being even more sarcastic and cruel then Birch’s Enid. The two actresses have great chemistry together, sharing in-jokes and references that the script happily does not expand on. The script doesn’t give Rebecca very much to do but Johannson maintains a moody humanity, underneath the intentional stiffness of the performance.

Perhaps showing its roots as an episodic comic book, “Ghost World” also features a number of amusing subplots and side characters. Bruce Glover has a small role as an antagonistic customer in Rebecca’s coffee shop. A mutual friend of Enid and Rebecca is Josh – a naturalistic performance from Brad Renfro – who works at a crappy 7-11 style store. An eccentric customer named Doug frequently enters the store. Sporting a mullet, tan lines in the shape of a tank top, and a pencil mustache, the character is extraordinary weird. He gets into shouting matches with the store’s Greek owner. He swings his nun-chucks around whenever the oppretunity presents itself. Played by an enthusiastic Dave Sheridan, the character was so unforgettably odd that Sheridan reprised the role in two Red Hot Chili Peppers music videos.

Another amusing subplot in “Ghost World” has Enid enrolling in a remedial art class following graduation. Through these sequences, “Ghost World” presents a criticism of the modern art scene that Robert Crumb would probably approve of. Enid’s sketch book drawings are dismissed as lower entertainment. Her classmates, who make sculptures out of clothes hangers, are praised by the teacher. Enid remains an outsider in the class until she takes a page from her pretentious classmates by presenting a racist fast food advertisement as a piece of found art. While this wins her kudos from her teacher, the piece is ultimately met with angry criticism when displayed in a gallery. In other words, the art scene is extremely fickle, ultimately only praising the few artist who meet their narrow definition of “art.” Illena Douglas is hilarious as the teacher, who rattles off nonsense with a straight face and often inadvertently praises the work of the more clueless classmates.

As “Ghost World’s” roomy two hour run time starts to wind down, it seems to be heading towards a typical conclusion. Enid screws up, alienates both of her closest friends, and looses her chance at an art scholarship. However, she matures a bit, finds a job, and makes measures to win back the good graces of those she loves. “Ghost World,” in its unwavering commitment to nonconformity, takes a hard turn in its final minutes. Enid abandons her friends and responsibilities, leaving town on a phantom bus. The ending seems designed to confound audience expectations. “Ghost World” isn’t the kind of movie where people grow up and learn things. Enid is such an outsider that there’s no place for her, even in her own movie. As the title implies, she becomes a ghost, the spectre of something that used to be alive.

Finally, with “Ghost World,” Terry Zwigoff moves away the documentary format of his first two features. He shows a clear visual sense. The unnamed small town setting is strangely empty, with few people around, adding to the off-center feeling. The color scheme is slightly exaggerated, in order to recall the story’s comic book origins. Colors – like the green Enid dyes her hair or the pink bowling uniforms the dinner patrons wear – pop a little more. There’s rarely any shot in the film that doesn’t feature a corporate logo of some sort, a subtle jab at the kind of creeping commercialism Enid and Seymour are rebelling against. Without being showy, “Ghost World” is an excellent looking film, as well composed as the comic panels that inspired it.

“Ghost World” is frequently hilarious, getting the most out of its deadpan leading ladies – such as Enid’s reaction to her dad’s date – and its extremely strong supporting cast, such as a very funny bit part from David Cross. Yet the movie mines other complex emotions, by perfectly capturing the sense of teenage alienation its protagonist – and anybody who has ever been weird or immature – is feeling. The movie was barely released in 2001 but would immediately find an audience on video and DVD. Considering the female-led indie quirk-fest that would follow, it’s even been influential. However, few of the imitators captured its perfect mixture of sadness and snark. [Grade: A]

Director Report Card: Terry Zwigoff (1994)

2. Crumb

Terry Zwigoff and R. Crumb are friends. Zwigoff has been a member of Crumb’s band, the Cheap Suit Serenders, since the mid-seventies. Considering Zwigoff previously made a documentary about an early blues musician, and would next adapt some underground comics, it would seem the two share some interests. Robert Crumb’s status as an internationally recognized artists clearly wasn’t the only reason Zwigoff decided to turn his camera on his friend. Filmed over a period of six years, “Crumb” doesn’t just chronicle R. Crumb’s own career. The film also focuses on the artist’s equally dysfunctional brothers. When released in 1994, “Crumb” was greeted by unanimous critical enthusiasm. Some even consider it the greatest documentary ever made.

In the sixties, R. Crumb would become one of the pioneers of underground comix: Sequential art featuring subversive themes, explicit content, breaks from traditional formats, and psychedelic styles. Crumb’s “Keep On Truckin’” illustration would be widely printed and imitated. His “Fritz the Cat” comics would be adapted into a cult classic by Ralph Bakshi. Crumb’s work would attract worldwide attention. Despite his success, Crumb’s misanthropic world-view hasn’t changed much. Zwigoff’s film tracks Crumb and his mentally ill brothers as they discuss their lives, their art, and the world they live in.

“Crumb,” naturally, spends a lot of time discussing Robert Crumb’s artwork. Some of the documentary’s most compelling moments are devoted to Crumb to working on his illustrations. He sketches the girls he had crushes on in high school, recalling the various sexual fantasies he had about them. Another scene shows him reading through an especially explicit comic of his. Naturally, such work attracts condemnation from cultural critics, who think of Crumb’s work as pornographic or sexist. Yet it’s not all headless women and girls with big asses. “Crumb” gets into the minutia of comictry, when Crumb discusses taking pictures of street corners so he can master drawing the mundane details of city living. “Crumb” gives you a good look into the creative process.

Of course, “Crumb” probably wouldn’t have attract the critical acclaim it did if it was only about Crumb’s artwork. Instead, the documentary gives the viewer an unflinching, frequently unflattering peek into the artist’s personal life. Robert Crumb is, unquestionably, a misanthrope. He hates the “Fritz the Cat” movie. He hates the Grateful Dead. He hates hippies. He hates rap and rock music. He hates people who wear t-shirts with logos on them. He hates suburbia. He hates his neighbors. He hates the political direction of America, which is why he’s planning a move to France throughout the film. There doesn’t’ seem to be very much that Robert Crumb likes, aside from his weirdo comic books, old jazz music, and his family, I guess.

Moreover, there seems to be some debate over how Robert Crumb feels about women. Early on, we hear his ex-wife discuss Crumb’s early comics. How she felt they showed a positive attitude towards women, especially those who didn’t display classically beautiful bodies. Another girlfriend notes how Crumb drew women that reflected her body type. However, over the course of the film, Crumb’s work grows in hostile and pornographic direction, which leads to accusations of misogyny. Crumb himself casually admits to hating women during one conversation with an ex-girlfriend. It’s interesting that somebody could get two totally different readings out of the same artist’s work.

Sex seems to be something Robert Crumb is especially stuck on. An ex-girlfriend says that Crumb masturbates seven or eight times a day. The most commonly reoccurring element of his artwork are women with thick thighs, muscular legs, and big asses. His drawings and comics show an obvious, fetishistic obsession with this body type. That obsession seems to exclude what we think of “traditional” sex. Piggy back rides seems to be the most common way for Crumb to get off. It’s surprising that Rob’s been married twice and actually fathered a child. Despite having such an intense interest in these types of bodies, when a friend sets up a photo shoot with women fitting his type, Crumb seems to enter a withdrawn state. His incredibly neurotic world view is deeply intertwined with his various sexual hang-ups.

In the Crumb family, sexual perversion is not solely Robert’s domain. Zwigoff purposely named the documentary “Crumb” because he intended the film to focus on all three brothers. As deeply neurotic as R. Crumb is, he’s actually the most well adjusted member of his family. Charles Crumb lives at home with his mother and hasn’t been employed since he was a teenager. He’s on a number of medications for a cornucopia of mental illnesses. He expresses a childhood desire to stab Robert in the heart. Late in the film, it’s revealed that Charles had a pedophilic obsession with Bobby Driscoll, feelings he refused to act on. Despite his issues, Charles was actually the first artist in the family, pushing Robert and the others to work on comics with him. He was talented too but eventually his artwork was consumed by an obsession with cycling lines and text. Before the film was finished, Charles committed suicide. “Crumb” is dedicated to his memory.

Robert’s other brother, Maxon, has his problems as well. He’s introduced kneeling on the floor, wearing only a bathrobe, showing his distressingly malnourished body. He panhandles for money, sitting on a literal bed of nails. He performs a bizarre ritual where he chews and swallows a shoe lace, which he describes as cleansing his digestive system. Maxon suffers from epileptic seizures. He’s got his own sexual hang ups too. He describes being driven into intense bouts of arousal which caused him to grope and molest women in public. Once again, mental illness and artistic talent seems linked in the Crumb family. Maxon shows off his own artwork, impressive and abstract paintings. (Maxon, as of this writing, is still alive.)

With such a collection of disturbed individuals, you’d expect the childhood Crumb household to be extremely abusive or dysfunctional. Well, not exactly. Crumb’s mother apparently had an addiction to weight loss pills – which basically amounted to speed – and is said to have coddle all three boys. Their father, meanwhile, is referred to as a suffocatingly average man, who wrote training manuals. Otherwise,  there are few indications that the Crumb family would’ve produced such messed up people, a family were a deeply fetishistic and self-admited weirdo like Robert Crumb can be considered the normal one.

“Crumb” doesn’t focus exclusively on Crumb’s creepy sex fetishes and his family’s history of mental illness. The film also occasionally pauses to focus on his home life. He has been married to Aline Kominsky, a fellow underground artist, since the late seventies. Aline seems to have come to tolerate Crumb’s eccentricities and misanthropy. The two have a daughter, Sophie, who was a precocious young girl at the time of filming. It’s somewhat jarring to see R. Crumb talk about how much he hates the world and his odd sexual proclivities in one scene and play or hug his daughter in another. Near the movie’s end, Crumb is mocking the movers handling his records. In the next scene, he’s shown being affectionate with his wife and child. Seems that even as hardened a misanthrope as R. Crumb has a soft spot.

“Crumb” clearly isn’t meant to just be a cinematic freak show. Zwigoff and Crumb are friends, so I imagine his interest in this deeply dysfunctional family is probably entirely sincere. Crumb is also a classically Zwigoff-ian outsider, someone who excludes himself from society almost entirely by choice. R. Crumb’s work has connected with a wide audience. The film cements this, with interviews from critics and scholars who appreciate and love his work. Crumb, meanwhile, is mostly disgusted with everything around him and most pointedly with himself. The main point of the documentary seems to be this: Art emerges out of strife.

“Crumb” is a slightly more polished film then “Louie Bluie.” The two have a lot in common, stylistically. Both are primarily composed of interview segments where Zwigoff’s free roaming camera catches the interviewees in honest, unrehearsed moments. Narration frequently plays over artwork. “Crumb” is so unrehearsed that the film frequently leaves in what would otherwise be considered gaffs. A camera trips over a chair while watching Crumb and an ex-girlfriend talk. Charles pauses an interview so he can yell at his mother, who’s confused by the camera equipment. It certainly gives the movie an immediate, lived-in quality.

Rumors persist that Robert Crumb hated the movie bearing his name. It wouldn’t shock anyone, considering he hates everything else. However, this is apparently not true, as Zwigoff and Crumb remain friends to this day. After all, a man who made a career exposing his deepest, weirdest, seediest secrets as comics would be unlikely to bulk at a film doing the same. “Crumb” is definitely a classic in certain circles, both a cult favorite and a critical darling. It’s not the most inviting film. A two hour trip into a collection of ill minds was never going to be. However, it’s valuable as a fascinating look at a famous artist’s psyche and the place where art and mental illness intertwine. [Grade: A-]

Director Report Card: Terry Zwigoff (1985)

Terry Zwigoff was, for a time, an indie film darling. His misanthropic but deeply funny and insightful films won him a number of followers. In time, those misanthropic qualities would eventually consume him, ending his career prematurely.  At least, that's what I think happened. Until then, he made some pretty great comedies, deeply neurotic though they may be. This'll be a short one, you guys, but one that's way overdue.

1. Louie Bluie

Terry Zwigoff’s love and interest in American roots and blues music has been apparent all across his career as a filmmaker. It turns out this interest was solidified from the beginning. Zwigoff’s first credit is “Louie Bluie,” a short documentary about overlooked blues musician Howard Armstrong. Though the complete film only runs an hour long, “Louie Bluie” would receive an enthusiastic response from critics, establishing Terry Zwigoff as a promising filmmaker with a distinctive voice all of his own. Unavailable for years, the Criterion Collection would eventually rescue “Louie Bluie” from obscurity, making the film widely available for the first time.

“Louie Bluie” isn’t one of those documentaries with narrators, voice overs, or fancy framing devices. Instead, the film is primarily devoted to its subject telling his stories and playing his music. In the film’s opening minutes, Howard Armstrong explains how he receives his nickname of “Louie Bluie.” From there, he details his history. As a young man, with a talent for playing various string instruments, he played his way through different venues in his Tennessee home town. Louie Bluie would slowly carve out a musical legacy of his own, even if his music rarely reached a wide audience.

Howard Armstrong telling us his history also gives the viewer great insight into the time period he grew up in and the history of the music. “Louie Bluie” does not delve greatly into the racial politics of Armstrong’s childhood. Armstrong seems to take the societal divides of his early life as a given fact. Occasionally, it comes up. Armstrong mentions black and white performers being segregated. He also, in one anecdote, tells about playing for a hostile white audience. He says that, if a black performer played the blues for a white audience, they would’ve been attacked. Otherwise though, Armstrong paints a picture of a culture rich in detail and depth.

The truth is, we don’t see Armstrong play any blues music until about midway through “Louie Bluie.” One of the film’s goals seems to be to expose the malleability of the various musical genres Armstrong works in. He considers the mandolin to be his specialty and contributes lively strings to several musical performances throughout the film. He plays the fiddle during a swinging country number, accompanied by piano and guitar. Armstrong was also able to play guitar. Many of these songs aren’t quite country, blues, or jazz, but rather lively string music between the various poles. By showing the subject of the documentary playing so well in so many different genres, “Louie Bluie” shows how the various American musical styles grew out of each other.

Naturally, long stretches of “Louie Bluie” are devoted to musical performances. Watching Armstrong play is electrifying. Howard was in his seventies when “Louie Bluie” was shot but his energy remains plentiful and youthful. While playing the blues with his friends, Armstrong swings the mandolin around, strumming and plucking the strings with an apparent grace and style. A fiddle performance has the musician putting on a show with his bow, impressing the audience with his obvious skill. Throughout his stories, Armstrong explains how he would play for Polish or Italian crowds, singing in their native languages. This talent is shown during a duet with a friend. Another memorable moment is a musical session with “Banjo Ikey” Robinson. “Louie Bluie” makes it clear that its subject was adapt in multiple styles with an electrifying stage presence.

There’s very little structure to “Louie Bluie.” Terry Zwigoff is smart enough to just let the camera roll while Armstrong hangs out with his friends and tells his stories. An early scene has Armstrong sitting in an apartment with some old pals, eating Kentucky Fried Chicken and swapping stories about their mutual histories together. He goes on to criticize a friend’s fashion sense. Later in the film, Louie wanders into a shop that sells sun glasses and black light posters. The film concludes with Armstrong and his buddies playing cards and trading tall tales. This gives the viewer a clear understanding of Howard’s flamboyant style. He was a real character and the documentary doesn’t need to do anything more to be compelling then let him talk.

“Louie Bluie” turns out to be a great forum for Armstrong’s stories. Early on, he shares a story about a man who had multiple children with different women, a telling that is often interrupt by one of his friends. After a performance, an enthusiastic fan asks Louie to sign a record, which rolls into a story about getting screwed over by the record producer. An encounter with a street vendor has him sharing an anecdote about the snake oil salesman he knew as a child. He details the various methods the salesmen would use to sell their phony products and how someone in the crowd always fell for it. In the final minutes of “Louie Bluie,” Armstrong reads a vulgar fable about an encounter with the devil to his friends. Their reaction makes it clear that they’ve probably heard this one before. “Louie Bluie” makes it apparent that its subject had stories to spare.

What makes Armstrong an even more fascinating figure is that he wasn’t just a fantastic musician, story teller, and showman. He was also a talented artist, renowned enough to have an exhibition devoted to his paintings and illustrations. Amusingly, he’s dismissive of modern, abstract art, an attitude Zwigoff would carry into his future films. Another entertaining bit has Armstrong attempting to tell a story to a young girl at his art show, who seems ambivalent to his telling. Armstrong’s visual sense was so strong that he turned his signature on a record slip into a work of art, writing his name out as fine calligraphy.

Through his art, Howard provided his thoughts on religion and sex. An extended sequence is devoted to Armstrong showing Icky his Bible of Pornography, a hand-bound volume full of dirty stories, illustrations, and photographs. The book is full of ribald tales, each one linked to a different letter of the alphabet. For example, we hear about a women born with two uterus, birthing a child from each. Or the partner of a philandering wife caught by her husband while he was cooking chitlins. Religion, meanwhile, isn’t something Louie Bluie had much use for. While walking by a church, he launches into a profane tirade about how preachers are the “biggest pimps of all.” Like his music and personality, it’s clear that Armstrong had a strong opinion on just about any subject.

Before “Louie Bluie,” it doesn’t seem that Terry Zwigoff had much training in film making. As you’d expect, this results in the documentary having a very naturalistic style. While Armstrong or one of his partners share a memory from their long life, Zwigoff’s camera will often roam freely. During the musical performances, he’ll roughly zoom in on the band members as they play their instruments. A few times, you can even hear Zwigoff asks Armstrong or the others a question. The director’s most bold creative decision has some of Armstrong’s stories playing over his artwork, the storyteller essentially providing narration to his own illustrations.

Even this early in his career, it’s apparent that various specific topics fascinated Zwigoff. Aside from the obvious connections to classic blues music, “Louie Bluie” also shows the filmmaker’s interest in outsiders and artists. Despite his obvious skills and talents, Howard Armstrong rarely received the recognition he deserved in his life time. He passed away in 2003, at the ripe age of 94. In 2010, the Criterion Collection would release “Louie Bluie” on DVD, bringing the film and its fascinating subject to a wider audience. Armstrong’s obvious charisma and fascinating stories makes “Louie Bluie” an engrossing, highly entertaining watch, as well as giving us a peak at the origins of American popular music. [Grade: A-]

Series Report Card: Godzilla (2016)

31. Shin Godzilla
Shin Gojira / Godzilla: Resurgence

It’s a good time to be a kaiju fan. In addition to the big budget sequel to Hollywood’s latest Godzilla movie, new King Kong, Gamera, Pacific Rim, and Power Ranger movies are forthcoming. In to this fray came the announcement the Toho would also be making a new Godzilla film, distinct from the current American series. Better yet, the film would be directed by Hideaki Anno – a nerd savior in certain circles because of his legendary anime series “Neon Genesis Evangelion” – and the special effects mastermind behind the Heisei “Gamera” films. The film opened to big box office and rave reviews in its native country. Perhaps because of this, Toho made the unusual move of a speedy American release. Though initially grafted with the unwieldy subtitle of “Godzilla: Resurgence,” the film instead received a limited stateside release under the partially translated title of “Shin Godzilla.” The original Godzilla is back, on the big screen, for the first time in twelve years. You know I was there.

For the first time in Toho’s history, Godzilla received a straight reboot. “Shin Gojira” continues from none of the previous films. Instead, it asks the question of what would happen if Godzilla appeared for the first time in 2016. An underground tunnel in Tokyo is pierced and flooded. The incident is, at first, blamed on an underwater volcanic explosion. The true culprit, a massive aquatic reptile, surfaces soon afterwards. After the monster wades into Tokyo, the government officials go into overdrive to stop him. The creature – dubbed as both Gojira and Godzilla by a rogue scientist – proves immune to most weapons and massively destructive. A crack team of experts assemble, hoping to find a way to stop the beast before the government drops a massive nuke on the city.

“Shin Godzilla” is the strangest Godzilla movie yet made, even beating previous landmarks for weirdness like “Godzilla vs. the Smog Monster” and “Final Wars.”  Hideaki Anno has essentially made an art house kaiju movie. The film is as much a cultural satire as it is a giant monster movie. The pacing is odd, cutting between long talky sequences and scenes of massive destruction. It approaches Godzilla himself from an almost experimental angle. Unsurprisingly, “Shin Gojira” more resembles Anno’s eccentric anime work then any previous Godzilla flick. Befitting this, Toho has released the film in America as an art house picture, playing in select theaters, in the original language with English subtitles.

But you don’t want to read about that. Let’s talk about Godzilla. Created primarily through CGI, it’s a very different take on the King of the Monsters. Like an anime critter, Godzilla progresses through several forms, evolving repeatedly. His final form is massive, his biggest yet. This gives Godzilla a glacial walking speed, practically moving in slow motion but enormous and unstoppable. Godzilla’s appearance is grotesque, zombie like, his bones and muscles peeking through his reptilian hide. His beady eyes, hook teeth, tiny arms, and serpentine tail create an unnerving appearance. This Godzilla doesn’t have as much personality as previous incarnation. He operates more as a living, breathing natural disaster.

Yet when Anno’s Godzilla gets pissed, you know it. “Shin Gojira” creates some spellbinding sequences of urban destruction. Attention is paid to how much debris the kaiju kicks up. Boats and cars pile up and get tossed around by his movement. Buildings are plowed through, like sand on the beach. Artillery of all sorts harmlessly bounce off him. When big ass bombs do manage to harm him, Godzilla unleashes a staggeringly destructive power. The traditional atomic breath is re-imagined as a hyper concentrated death ray, propelled from a tri-segmented mouth. Buildings are cut through. In a likely homage to the 1954 original, Godzilla reduces Tokyo to flames. (This Godzilla actually does breath fire, for the first time.) Showing off the director’s anime ingenuity, Godzilla is also granted several new powers, shooting his atomic breath from multiple avenues. It’s a staggering display of power, horrifying without sacrificing a certain special effects coolness.

The 2014 American “Godzilla” – which I loved, by the way – was “realistic” in the typical Hollywood fashion. Which mostly meant grafting faux-grit to a still ridiculous story. “Shin Godzilla,” meanwhile, really makes an effort to explain how Godzilla would function in the real world. At first, it’s assumed that such a huge creature would collapse under its own weight, the generally accepted scientific truth. His initial appearances are strange, almost comical, the monster awkwardly waddling through Japan’s cities. The film repeatedly draws attention to Godzilla’s odd appearance, showing off his fleshy gills and massive size. Godzilla’s nature as a living nuclear reactor is made explicit. The creature goes into long inactive periods, resting while it rebuilds its strength. Long scenes are spent explaining Godzilla’ biological function and his molecular breakdown.

This speaks to “Shin Gojira’s” nature as a grounded motion picture. This is most obvious in the story construction. For most of its run time, “Shin Gojira” is a satire about bureaucratic oversight, miscalculation, and in-fighting, the “In the Loop” of kaiju movies. The characters are government officials, figuring out ways to combat the monster, protect the citizens, and reduce destruction. The satire emerges from how bad the departments are at this. The hero immediately believes a giant animal to be responsible for the tunnel collapse. The others dismiss him. After Godzilla reveals himself, scientists assure the prime minister that the monster won’t come ashore. In the middle of his speech, someone informs him that the monster just came ashore. Every step of the military conflict is shown. There’s much debate, over whether Godzilla counts as enough of an aggressor to bring in the JSDF. The order to open fire on the monster passes through a dozen people before being called off at the last minute. Evacuation plans are lingered on.

I’m not Japanese, so I can’t say for certain. However, it seems to me that “Shin Gojira” is about government mishandling of the 2011 Tohoku tsunami. Following Godzilla’s razing of Tokyo, the film’s hero angrily curses to himself, over the loss of life that could’ve been prevented. The incident could’ve better controlled, and more lives saved, if the various government bodies could communicate better. As the story progresses, most of “Shin Gojira’s” humor disappears. The film becomes a race against time, to figure out a way to stop Godzilla before a giant nuclear bomb is dropped on him. And, by relation, all of Tokyo. The heroes are determined to make sure another nuke doesn’t fall on Japanese soil. This keeps Godzilla’s essential post-nuclear subtext intact but re-contextualizes it within a modern setting, even if it’s distinctly different set of anxieties. (Though Anno includes his share of “For the glory of Nippon!” shenanigans, he doesn’t let his country off the hook. Godzilla is still the result of Japanese’s nuclear mismanagement.)

The film’s biggest appeal to mainstream, commercial concerns is its collection of heroes. After Godzilla’s initial attack, the government assembles a crew to handle the beast. They are described as outcasts, nerds, and weirdos, given free rein to stop the beast. In other words, a group of plucky outsiders are the people who end up saving the day. Ingenuity and individual creativity succeed where government bureaucracy fails. That final sequence is one of the film’s most exciting, showing novel ways of using Tokyo’s infrastructure against the monster. The solution they cook up is slightly more realistic then the Oxygen Destroyer, the X2, or giant freezing rays. But only slightly. For as concerned as Anno is with realism, he also understands the comic book demands of the kaiju genre.

“Shin Gojira” was successful in Japan, out-grossing “Final Wars” and Gareth Edwards’ American reboot. Yet what’s popular overseas is clearly different from what’s popular in the U.S. From an American perspective, “Shin Godzilla” is a deeply noncommercial film. This is most clear in how talky the film is. Long scenes are devoted to debates and round table discussions. The minutia of the government’s response to the monster is shown in great detail. As the two hour run time stretches on, the endless dialogue scenes become a bit tiring. When the female protagonist is talking with her dad about how these events will affect her future plans to run for president, the viewer’s interest wanes slightly. In truth, Godzilla is only wrecking shit in four scenes. I get what Anno was going for and I admire the effort. Yet I wish “Shin Gojira” was a little less stingy with the monster action and a little more conservative with the political debates.

The film has a huge cast, with over three hundred credited actors. There are few memorable characters. This almost seems like an intentional move on the movie’s behalf, as nearly every character is introduced with their name and job title appearing on-screen. We’re suppose to see the drawn-out, government processes, not the individual characters. Inside the large cast, only two characters emerge as distinct. Hiroki Hasegawa stars as Yaguchi, who has lengthy title of Deputy Chief Cabinet Secretary. Yaguchi is the only one who immediately grasps what a threat Godzilla is and he leads the attempt to stop him. Hasegawa has a deeply human energy which he contains inside a formal exterior. Satomi Ishihara as Kayoko, the half American envoy from the U.S. president, seems likely to become the film’s otaku favorite. She’s fashionable, trendy, beautiful, and far younger then you’d expect a government official to be. Ishihara is charming and often funny. Moreover, Hasegawa and Ishihara have a nice rapport with one another.

Though he’s best known for animation, Hideki Anno has worked in live action before. His directorial style in “Shin Gojira” is characterized by a documentary like urgency. The scenes of government discussions are terse, focusing on faces and the small rooms. Yet Anno occasionally adds interesting visual flourishes. Such as moment seen from the perspective of a computer monitor. Or the camera drifting away while the heroes discuss nuclear annihilation. For the scenes of kaiju destruction, “Shin Gojira” roots itself to the ground. The kaiju action is usually shown from the perspective of we tiny humans. We see Godzilla’s massive tail swinging over buildings and crowds. Or the tanks and helicopters scurry around him. When the film cuts to a city wide perspective, it’s to give a wider glance at the destruction, a visually shocking maneuver.

It’s currently unknown if Toho plans to create a direct sequel to this film or continue the self-contained story style of the Millennium series. “Shin Godzilla” promises more, by ending on an interesting, somewhat baffling sequel hook. Currently, it looks like the next Godzilla movie will be an animated one, which presents some tantalizing possibilities. I don’t know if I’d like to see another Godzilla movie quite as idiosyncratic as “Shin Gojira,” a fascinating, powerful, but at times frustrating film. To be honest, I also miss the monster versus monster carnage and actors in rubber suits. As a one-off, however, “Shin Gojira” is an extremely interesting experiment, a Godzilla movie truly like no other. [Grade: B+]