55/100

76/100

65/100

Set in a world where dreams can be entered and manipulated, Inception focuses on Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio), a former “architect” whose personal tragedies and demons have forced him to find others to help him on his quest for closure and inner peace. He’s helped along on this quest by a star-studded gaggle of assistants, including the smooth, stoic Arthur (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), the at-first naive genius Ariadne (Ellen Page), who’s Cobb’s ‘successor,’ and the wily Eames (Tom Hardy of Bronson fame). And let’s not sell the rest of the cast short: we have Tom Berenger, Marion Cottilard (as the tortured Cobb’s former flame, Mal), Ken Watanabe, and Cillian Murphy as the ‘target’ business executive as well, among others! The acting is surprisingly average for such a bevy of big names, though: only Murphy and Gordon-Levitt really stand out. The rest range from good (Page, Hardy) to so-so (DiCaprio, Watanabe). The emotional side of Inception—i.e. Cobb’s search for internal redemption—mostly falls flat, due to Nolan’s focus on shock-and-awe visuals and scope. There aren’t any small moments in building Cobb & Mal’s relationship and past up, so the dramatic, family-based scenes feel too sudden and isolated. And the first half of the film is too expository, with seemingly every other sequence involving Cobb or Arthur waxing philosophically about the process of entering dreams, how it works, and what happens, and can happen, in various scenarios. In a sense, this is unsurprising: Nolan is always about cool over intimacy. Once Robert Fischer (Murphy) enters the fray, though, Inception really steps it up. Its examination of the ‘levels’ of the mind, which can be viewed both as a study of psychology and an allegory for our obsession with gaming in this hyper-computer age (the “levels” of video games), isn’t exactly brilliant, but really entertaining and strongly executed. Coupled with Nolan’s keen eye and flair, multiple stretches of Inception‘s final hour+ are electrifying, especially a sequence in a hotel elevator shaft where Gordon-Levitt puts on a show, helped along by Nolan’s expert framing of human bodies levitating in the air. The concept behind the van-hitting-the-water is also pretty awesome (you’ll see; can’t spoil). It’s a shame that Inception is as mechanical as it is at times, because there’s enough strong stuff here to tease at a great picture. Unfortunately, we’re left instead with a good movie that falls victim to the hype machine, leading to false expectations: this is a smart, exciting blockbuster, not a masterpiece for the ages. With that in mind, break out the popcorn, enjoy it, and keep waiting for Nolan to truly craft his masterpiece.

65/100

75/100

78/100

53/100

Like in Hero (2003) and House of Flying Daggers (2004), Yimou fills the screen with rich colors and vibrant images, like sweeping sand dunes and fiery sunsets. The problem is that what makes Blood Simple (which, in fairness, I haven’t seen in full in some time) so gripping is the smoky, nightmarish atmosphere that the Coens created. Here, Yimou’s overdone compositions lend a cartoonish quality to the proceedings that sap it of most of its punch. The first 30 minutes are particularly awful, as A Woman, a Gun and a Noodle Shop‘s attempts to mix mystery with farce fall flat on its face. Blood Simple is full of tension, dry wit, and great acting…but Dahong isn’t Dan Hedaya, and in fact, only the graceful Hunglei turns in a truly strong performance here, with Shenyang eking out a passing grade. The remainder of the cast ranges from lame to irritating to flat-out bad. Obviously, this cinematic form was a conscious choice by the filmmaker, but I can’t help but feel that a Japanese director like Miike or Kitano could have done something much more interesting with the story (those who liked Chen Kaige’s The Promise, which I found unbearable, might really enjoy this one).

In its defense, A Woman, a Gun and a Noodle Shop gets a good bit more palatable after the aforementioned woeful beginning: once the first murder occurs, multiple long, extended wordless sequences frequently replace much of the unwelcome glitz, and the film settles into a moderately enjoyable flow, though it never comes close to living up to its potential, even though many scenes are taken almost exactly from the source material (though as we’ve seen in Gus Van Sant’s dreadful remake of Hitchcock’s Psycho, that’s anything but an automatic recipe for success). It feels to me like Yimou has lost much of his knack for nuance over the past 15 years—among his filmography, only Raise the Red Lantern (1991) contains much subtlety, and doesn’t use overcharged visuals to get much of its point across. He’s talented enough to keep most of his work from careening completely off the tracks—I’ve enjoyed most on some level or another—but this is the closest he’s come to a true failure. The final hour is adequate enough to prevent A Woman, a Gun and a Noodle Shop from claiming that unfortunate title, but it’s not enough to salvage the movie into something I’d recommend to anyone but the most fervent fans of Yimou or the genre.

41/100

Once settled into his mundane city routine, John eventually meets Mary (Eleanor Boardman) on a double blind-date with ambitious co-worker Bert (Bert Roach), and quickly proposes and takes her for his wife. It turns out, however, that married life doesn’t cure his ills: in fact, it enhances them in many ways. As he stagnates at work, his long-promised raise always “delayed,” Mary’s family begins turning on him, and tension starts to build at home. They almost separate, but Mary becomes pregnant, which gives John a jolt of motivation and spark to stay. But alas, it’s merely a temporary reprieve. For every seemingly positive step forward—John actually winning a slogan contest; an $8 raise at work—there’s two steps back. Then tragedy strikes, and The Crowd throws everything that’s happened so far into a darker, sadder context. Reminders of John’s limited impact on the world run rampant, such as a policeman telling him that the world can’t stop because of the tragedy. When the quote, “The crowd laughs with you always, but will cry with you only for a day” flashes across the screen, it feels startlingly appropriate, and Vidor’s depiction of the heartbreaking occurrence and its subsequent impact on John and Mary is really very sad to see. John begins to blame everyone around him for his woes, quitting his job and bouncing around new ones until even Mary, who’s been a rock throughout the turmoil, begins to snap. John’s refusal to accept a reluctant job offer from Mary’s brothers is the last straw in her tolerance: it becomes as evident to her as to us, the viewers, that John is, was, and always has been all talk and no action.

As a shattered John staggers towards a town bridge in a daze, prepared to end it all, it’s difficult not to commiserate with his misery, thanks to Vidor’s excellent script and direction (though the aforementioned lack of subtlety occasionally makes the proceedings feel unnecessarily excessive—it’s hard to find a five-minute stretch without some reference to America’s place as the land of opportunity and heartbreak). While it’s easy to dismiss John’s tragic arc as self-made, it’s just as easy to view is as nothing more or less than human nature working its wonders (or lack thereof). When John—inspired to live one final time by a last-second appearance from his son—swallows a pride and takes a job as a walking advertisement for a store, it conjures up an earlier sequence when Bert, during the double date where John met Mary, sees someone dressed in identical garb, and quips: “I bet his dad thought he’d be president.” The evolution of John’s character can be neatly summed up by these two bookend scenes: it’s no longer about bravado and an ultimately meaningless sense of pride, but about the bottom line—supporting his family, and making sure he doesn’t lose Mary forever. Being lost in the crowd may not be anyone’s dream, but it’s also not the end of the world.

73/100

55/100