Batman: Gotham Knight

Directors:
Yasuhiro Aoki,
Futoshi Higashide,
Toshiyuki Kubooka,
Hiroshi Morioka, & Shoujirou Nishini

“I never seen him before, but I’m like I so know who this is,” a teenage skateboarder proclaims in Have I Got a Story For You, which serves as the first entry of the impressively animated if uneven six part anthological comic book come to cinematic life in the new DVD release Batman: Gotham Knight. Of course, the caped crusader to whom the teens are referring is none other than Batman and in a series of escalating stories, the group tries to outdo one another as a sort of fanboy version of a “your mama” joke. While it's admittedly a rather weak way to open the episodic work, from a narrative perspective, it makes perfect sense to ensure the audience’s thirst for good old fashioned storytelling by listening to several tall tales in preparation for the film’s far superior yarns to come. And indeed, much like a perfect mix CD made by a friend who knows your musical taste well, the six talented Japanese anime experienced filmmakers responsible for Gotham Knight know how to excite viewers as the film climbs steadily, building upon itself to become worthy of the formidably high bar that Batman enthusiasts have set for any entry in the series.

Broken into a half dozen distinctive chapters, each of the tales in Gotham Knight was created by an entirely different director and screenwriter. Now while in traditional live action form this may be distracting (and some critics referenced the failure of Four Rooms in their Gotham reviews) and it's also been pretentious (such as in the overly long Paris je t’aime), this technique can also provide a unique visual take to differentiate the chapters and better serve the story, such as Kieslowski employing a different cinematographer for each individual segment of his brilliant Three Colors Trilogy. Granted it’s not in the same league as Kieslowski nor should one compare apples to oranges-- or more precisely an anime take on a comic book with some of the best foreign films of the 1990’s-- but the bottom line is, it works in the exact same way in avoiding getting viewers lost in the shuffle of too much stimuli by switching up the visuals, not just for novelty or to pander to the ADD attention spans most filmmakers assume those of us reared on MTV, video games and Choose Your Own Adventure books have, but to better the experience considerably.

And although the mission may have been to segue from Christopher Nolan’s Batman Begins into the hotly anticipated sequel The Dark Knight or-- at its most cynical-- another excuse to get more bat bang for the box office buck, Gotham Knight offers several fascinating looks at the comic book’s mythology including various points-of-view when it comes to the existential hero himself. In addition it references not only Nolan’s works but also the films from the other directors including the horribly campy Schumacher offerings, Burton’s masterworks, the comic book itself as well as the deliciously cheesy television series and original film from 1966.

Upping the action considerably from Story, the film moves into Sin City like territory with the dark and breathtakingly animated Crossfire. In this short, we’re given a cop’s-eye-view of Gotham City and just what moral and ethical quandaries go along with having a vigilante like Bruce Wayne’s Batman basically jeopardizing their job security, with some officers led by Lt. Gordon who are in favor of his unorthodox and not exactly legal crime fighting and others who seem more annoyed by the caped one than the average Joe is of telemarketers. Above all, we’re constantly reminded of Bruce Wayne’s code of honor and the fact that-- while he’s arguably one of the darkest comic book characters ever created-- he doesn’t kill anyone and is always willing to put his own life on the line but will never ask anyone else to do the same for him.

Of course, Batman wouldn’t be able to whip out the “kapow” and “splat” without throwing some villains into the film and we’re given some genuinely exciting confrontations with Scarecrow (whom viewers recall from Nolan's Batman Begins) in the short chapter In Darkness Dwells and a humdinger of an introduction to Deadshot in Deadshot. In fact just these two shorts put together more than make up for some of the ridiculous villains and storylines introduced in the late 90’s Schumacher sequels wherein the franchise hit an all-time low with nipples on the batsuit, a wasted Jim Carrey, and trying to cram in an obligatory pop song every twenty minutes to sell Bat-soundtracks.

However, and thankfully never wearing out its welcome in its seventy-five minute running time, the film’s true standout comes in the form of director Toshiyuki Kubooka’s Working Through Pain which was penned by screenwriter Brian Azzarello. In Pain, we find Bruce Wayne heading east where he enlists the mentorship of a bright Indian woman named Cassandra to help teach him how to control his body’s responses and deal with the excruciating pain in which he often finds himself. Instead of just rehashing the tried and true Mr. Miyagi inspired Karate Kid clichéd plot, the filmmakers dig deeper to make Cassandra the most fascinating supporting player in the film that isn’t a regular part of the mythology as we learn that in order to acquire her knowledge she had to hide the fact that she was a woman, only to be accused of witchcraft when her gender was inevitably discovered.

It’s these little touches in the storytelling along with awe-inspiring artwork that separate the film from simply being labeled a clever marketing tool. And by giving audiences a chance to go from one episode to the next, similar to waiting for the next installment in a comic book series, we’re given a richer look at the man in black than perhaps what would’ve been shared if we’d only been offered one single narrative to sum up the endlessly complicated bat.

The Air I Breathe

Director:
Jieho Lee

Since the inspiration for director Jieho Lee’s feature film debut The Air I Breathe derived from the Chinese proverb categorizing the four pillars of life into (as IMDb notes) the “emotional cornerstones” of happiness, pleasure, sorrow and love, it seemed only fitting that his work reminded me of another ancient Chinese proverb dictating that if you save’s another person’s life, you are responsible for it.

Formatted into four distinct vignettes that-- in true Altman and P.T. Anderson fashion-- overlap in surprising ways throughout the course of the picture, Lee’s usage of his four primary emotions that are even echoed by some characters which share the same names, are constantly evolving. While each twenty to thirty minute segment is introduced with the corresponding emotion, basically it seems as inconsequential as a name-card at a crowded wedding reception where people table hop at will, as ultimately in the hands of Lee and co-writer Bob De Rosa, they merge into one super emotion that isn’t quite "sorrowfully-happy-pleasure-filled-love" but—perhaps truer to life—one that seems to better fit our frequent transient states in the human experience as we go about our days surprised by several emotional ups and downs. Although of course, filmmaker Lee ratchets his character’s plots to overwhelming dramatic heights where lives are either cut short or given a second chance and the destiny of those involved in these decisions are thus forever entwined, holding all individuals accountable for each twist of fate or rash decision. And if it sounds incredibly ambitious, it is and it’s not always successful but one has to give Lee points for walking his talk.

Despite a clunky start that fails to separate Lee’s film from the rest of the trendy pack of independent vignette works using any random connective tissue to overlap the lives of a seemingly diverse population of film characters as we’re introduced to a predictably pulpy noir inspired beginning which finds hardworking bank employee Happiness (Forest Whitaker) making a perilous bet on a horse race, we’re snapped to attention with a genuinely engrossing second storyline. In Pleasure, we encounter the emotion’s ironically corresponding namesake played by Brendan Fraser as the loyal, right-hand man of gangster "Fingers "(Andy Garcia), who according to the movie, earned the nickname because all he has to do is snap his terrifying fingers and Fraser’s Pleasure will strong-arm anyone at will.

What separates Pleasure from what ordinarily would be a typical noir cliché is his character’s peculiar ability to see the future, or-- even more frighteningly-- the ultimate destiny and death of those whom he encounters which makes him the handiest man to have on your side in a fight as he babysits Fingers’ immature, pig nephew Tony (Into the Wild’s Emile Hirsch). Soon he finds his gift at risk when he sees a poster of Trista (Sarah Michelle Gellar), a gorgeous singer to whom he’s attracted and realizes that not only can he not see into the beguiling young woman’s future but also feels a strange pull towards Trista, wondering if perhaps she is his own destiny. Fraser's character is so fascinating that I half-wished the film's entire four handed bridge game of Chinese proverbs would have been abandoned for a classic narration of Pleasure’s penchant for psychic premonition and the problems that are undoubtedly tied up within the questionable gift but Lee proved he wanted to explore several ambitious ideas with his first crack at direction.

Pleasure's instinct that Trista is his future proves to be an accurate assumption as Trista (who doubles as Sorrow in the film) finds herself bartered by her sleazy manager who trades her contract to Fingers in order to make good on an astronomical debt. Longing to escape the intimidation of Fingers who wants to milk his newest employee for all she’s worth like the cattle he considers her, Trista falls under both the protection and spell of Pleasure, embarking on a dangerous romance before her journey eventually leads to a fourth unevenly tacked-on segment involving crusading doctor Kevin Bacon who struggles to save the life of his married college sweetheart Julie Delpy at all costs.

Unfortunately, the film’s final act doesn’t quite fit the noir mold that Lee perpetuated with the nearly monochromatic color scheme and brooding tone for more than the film’s first hour and does slightly pull one out of its darkly seductive allure as a modern day homage to classic German expressionist influenced American noir works of the 1940’s, largely because the majority of the finale is filmed in predominant sunlight. And, given the genre, in the harsh light of day, Air's flaws along with its ability to cloak its shortcomings in noir style become glaring to the viewer.

However, it’s still a highly compelling film where earlier actions build on one another in unexpected ways and also one where-- more than just using the four emotions as a convenient structural device-- responsibility and accountability comes into play with the lives that are spared, making it a worthwhile proverbial Chinese puzzle to be solved for movie lovers who are game for viewing something out of the ordinary on DVD.


Rent It!

My Blueberry Nights

Director: Wong Kar Wai

As Fabienne tells Butch in Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction, “Any time of the day is a good time for pie.” This is especially true when one is nursing a broken heart and in the first English language film from director Wong Kar Wai (one of Tarantino’s favorite directors), while love sick alcoholic police officer David Strathairn opts for shots and Otis Redding’s "Try a Little Tenderness" in a Memphis bar, beautiful singer Norah Jones decides on pie in New York with Jude Law in My Blueberry Nights. Gee, no offense to Redding and Strathairn but that seems like a no-brainer to this filmgoer as well, although like Ms. Jones and Mr. Kar Wai (IMDb), I’m not one for blueberry pie.

In her screen debut, Jones turns in a subtle, introspective and competent if admittedly unchallenging performance as Elizabeth, who, heartsick from her badly ended love affair with an unfaithful boyfriend, begins returning to the diner where she not only learned of the infidelity through the loyal owner Jeremy (Law) but also has offered up her keys as the latest set to fill his cookie jar of failed romance. Jeremy, who serves as the genial but unlikely go between for bitter exes, is all too familiar with Elizabeth’s story as his keys were one of the first ones dropped into that sad jar and while nobody ever seems to come back for the keys, Jeremy says that like the untouched, uncut dish of blueberry pie at the end of the night forsaken in favor of cheesecake, he likes to keep the keys and the pie there just in case. Relating to the tale and in need of distraction, Elizabeth’s ritual of coming in for pie ends in a gorgeous succession of shots with an obvious fairy tale homage as Jeremy leans over and upside down, manages to kiss the remaining traces of pie from the lips of the sleeping, heartbroken Elizabeth before she vanishes to Tennessee to get as many miles as she can away from her bad memories of the end of love.

However something unspoken has passed between those pie filled nights and tender conversation, and she continually sends Jeremy postcards and letters from her new life, working two jobs as a waitress in a greasy spoon diner and a bar, both of which are the daily haunts of Strathairn’s Arnie Copeland. Unable to divorce the unfaithful, much younger wife (Rachel Weisz) from whom he’s separated but still madly in love with, Arnie makes a promise every night that he’ll quit drinking, piling his one day AA chips on the bar, but with every time the jukebox record drops Otis Redding’s "Try a Little Tenderness" and Weisz saunters in, that resolution is helplessly abandoned.

After a tragic middle section, the episodic My Blueberry Nights moves out west to the tale of lady gambler Leslie (Natalie Portman) as she and Elizabeth become a mild Thelma and Louise until life catches up with them both. While Leslie’s story seems like an odd fit with the lovesick tales of woe, it does also concern a nonromantic heartbreak and serves as a nice release for audiences who were squirming in their seats, unfamiliar with the slow Kar Wai pacing and obsessions with the ends of affairs.

A Kar Wai fan since Chungking Express who still considers In the Mood for Love to be one of the most romantic films ever made, I was bitterly disappointed by the overly ambitious mess of 2046 that was so awful, it made my loyal film professor and movie going sidekick swear off Kar Wai and decide he would be the one to choose the next several films. And while My Blueberry Nights isn’t in the same league as Chungking or Mood, it’s still intoxicatingly sensual and filled with performers who instinctively feel at ease in Kar Wai’s gorgeous, impressionistic, and unabashedly romantic universe. And hopefully it will make filmgoers not only reach for the nearest slice of pie but hit the shelves of their local movie stores looking for the director’s best.

Note: For an in-depth analysis of In the Mood for Love alongside one of the films it influenced, Sofia Coppola’s Lost in Translation, click here for my article.