Rating : 6.5/10

I stand by what I said - Watchmen is an unnecessary adaptation of the graphic novel. As a piece of visual pulp art, the film succeeds. But as an adaptation of Alan Moore’s ideas, Watchmen is a failure albeit an interesting one.

The opening credit sequence is a brilliant slow motion montage set to Bob Dylan’s Times They Are A-Changin’. This establishes the Watchmen universe – an alternate reality where Nixon is in his fifth term, superheroes are real, a giant blue man wins the Vietnam conflict for America and the Cold War has escalated to a nuclear stand-off. The plot follows a masked anti-hero, Rorschach as he tries to uncover clues to the murder of a former masked vigilante, The Comedian.

Visually, Dave Gibbons‘ frames are perfectly translated on celluloid and despite what I feared, the slow motion shots and fight sequences are quite nicely staged when compared to lazy quick cuts prevelant in action films today. The colour palette suits the dark tone of the film. Dave Gibbon’s choice of colour in the book was unlike those of most comics at the time (case in point, Frank Miller’s revival of Batman) and was an attempt at highlighting the absurdity of masked men running around in tights; that doesn’t seem to have been lost on Snyder.

The plot and narrative lean heavily on Alan Moore’s writing and for most part, doesn’t stray away from the brilliant source material. Where the film fails (and disastrously s0) is when it tries to come up with an original alternative for the ending. There is a huge tonal shift in the third act and character motivations are never obvious to a viewer unfamiliar with the book. Honestly, it was downright silly. However, my favourite bit from the book – Doctor Manhattan’s self imposed exile to Mars – was perfectly done. Doc Manhattan is a naked blue godlike being who has since his freak accident (physics lab accident, of course) become detached from humanity. He teleports himself to Mars after learning he may have been the reason his old friends and lovers seem to have developed cancer. This is perhaps the most outrageous and fantastic arc in the book but it fits right in with the rest of the film.

The soundtrack unfortunately is grating and very out of place. Apart from the opening and closing credits, the songs feel like they were picked out of a Greatest Hits collection from the 80s (Cindy Lauper, Simon and Garfunkel etc). Audiences laughed at what was supposed to be a disturbing sex scene only because Leonard Cohen and a church choir crooned ‘Hallelujah’ in the background. Alan Moore would roll in his grave if he were dead.

I walked out with pretty much the same feeling I had after 300. The film is beautiful to look at but is a muddled mess with flashes of brilliance here and there. Zack Snyder may be a devout fanboy but he may have missed out on what Moore really tried to say – there is no civility in civilization. 

[Link to IMDb profile]

Rating: 8.5/10

There is a vein of dark humour that runs in all of Almodovar‘s films. Volver is no exception. Though Almodovar simplifies his narrative, he still layers it with his usual repertoire of wit, sensitivity and not to mention- an obsession with women. Penelope Cruz excels under her mentor’s directing again (after All About My Mother). This is by far her best performance to date and long expected one.

The plot revolves Raimunda (Penelope Cruz), her daughter Paula (Yohana Cobo) and Raimunda’s sister Sole (Lola Duenas). Raimunda lives with Paco, the two have a very cold relationship. The events lead upto Paula killing her father after he tries to make moves on her. The film uses converging parallel narratives of Raimunda and Paula trying to get rid of the body while trying to re-build their lives and that of Sole being visited by her dead mother. There is also the story of Augustina, whose mother left her 4 years before and she hopes to find out what happened to her. All this leads to a powerful, emotional and revealing conclusion that is definitely Almodovar’s.

One of the problems I had with this film was it’s pace- the film meanders a bit here and there. But over all, the acting, the directing and the script holds you by the balls (and thats the sign of a good film). Cruz is divine. I am rooting for her to win the best actress Oscar this year. The cinematography by Jose Luis Alcaine and editing by Jose Salcedo is good, but then again, this is a director’s film. the music by Alberto Iglesias is forgettable, but the song Volver, sung by Penelope Cruz stays in your mind.

On Pedro Almadovar
There are very few directors who capture women on screen as well as Almodovar (Wong Kar Wai is the best for me). The way he frames the actors and the way he nurtures the characters in a film is quite intriguing. He is an auteur beyond compare and arguably one of the best directors alive. But what makes his films tick? As I mentioned before, there is always the dark humour, but I feel the reason why his films stand out is because he is a humanist. He cares about his characters and he cares about what they represent. Almodovar talks not about death in this film but about the “rich culture surrounding death”. Discussing philosophy in a simple narrative is Almodovar’s gift.

On Penelope Cruz
Cruz is beautifull, Cruz is divine and with this film she shows she is a great actress too. Her range and depth is used exceptionally well here. I liked her in Vanilla Sky but I loved her here. The screen oozes with her presence and her energy. She brings a poignancy and believability to the role of Raimunda. Penelope Cruz succeeds in making us care for her character. This is not method acting; for this to happen you need a screen presence and charisma that only true stars can bring to a film. Cruz is…(I better stop).

Though a film that I thoroughly enjoyed, it is not without problems. There is the occasional drift into melodrama and the ending that leaves a few too many questions unanswered. But overall I was won over by Penelope Cruz’s performance of a lifetime and Almodovar’s great direction. As artists, the mentor and the apprentice seems to have reached a level where both are now peers.

[Link to IMDb profile]

Rating: 9.5/10

“If one is lucky, a solitary fantasy can totally transform one million realities.” – Mary Angelou

Guillermo Del Toro‘s Pan’s Labyrinth cannot be passed off as a mere fantasy exercise. After watching this film for a second time a few minutes ago, I came to the conclusion that it is more of a discussion on fantasy. Never before has the purpose of a fairy tale been made more clear than it has been in this film. By placing fantasy as a counter-balance to horrible realities, Pan’s Labyrinth shows us that sometimes imagination and hope are one and the same.

The plot follows young Ofelia (Ivana Baquero) as she copes with the horror of post Civil War Spain by retreating into her imagination, a fairy tale fantasy where she is a lost princess of the underground realm to which she must return. Her stepfather Captain Vidal (Sergi Lopez) is a sadistic commander assigned to defeat Republican militia. Her mother Carmen (Ariadna Gil) is pregnant with the Captain’s child. Ofelia befriends one of Vidal’s maids, Mercedes (Maribel Verdu) who supports the rebel militia secretly.

There is a labyrinth near the mill where she stays and in this labyrinth she meets Pan (Doug Jones), a faun who is so old that he is almost a tree. Pan reveals to Ofelia her true destiny, that she is Princess Moanna who must now undertake three tasks to prove that her essence is intact. Ofelia must first kill a giant toad living under a dying fig tree to retrieve a golden key. The golden key unlocks a box in the Pale Man’s chamber, who kills and eats little girls…

The balance of the fantastical elements with that of the harsh realities of war is impeccable in this film. The fantasy weaves in and out of the main narrative seamlessly. By doing so, Guillermo Del Toro makes the horror more immediate and the fantasy more beloved.

On Guillermo Del Toro
Del Toro has a surefooted visual sense of cinema that is endearing because of it’s honesty. Visually and thematically, his films have always been a no holds barred ride. Even Hellboy (2004) was filled with stunning imagery. Pan’s Labyrinth is his magnum opus. I was quite stunned to see his journal over at the Pan’s Labyrinth website in which he has intricately written down and drawn his plans for the film. With Pan’s Labyrinth, Del Toro primarily discusses the end of innocence in the context of disbelieving fantasies. This film is inspired from our collective knowledge of fairy tales and fantasy stories, making us wonder at what point we stopped believing.

On Ivana Baquero
This little girl from Spain is half the reason why one should watch the film. She is radiant and brings innocence into the dark world that the film portrays . A role like this is quite hard for children to do. Normally, kids have to look cute in a film. Here, the character demands intelligence and Ivana Baquero has the right mix of intelligence and grace. Perfect casting.

I loved the film. I loved the fact that it is honest. And I always wanted to see a fantasy film with a soul; and this is it. Del Toro has made a dark fairy tale that is not cautionary (a rare thing). The ending is ambiguous; so those who choose to believe, can believe. That’s the real beauty of this film – it can be interpreted (m)any ways. Finally, here is a fantasy film with a heart, a soul and a brain.

[Link to IMDB profile]

Rating: 8.5/10

My biggest fear before watching this film was that it would fail to live up to the legacy of it’s predecessors. But the film blew me away to the point where I can say that, it is not only the best film in the Bourne canon but also one of the best action films ever.

Screenplay guru Syd Field stated in his book Screenwriting that “character is action.” Bourne Ultimatum takes this quote to heart. The plot is propelled by the action, unlike lesser films where the action pauses the plot to provide explosions, chases, fights etc. And every sequence here, is in itself, an exploration of the character that is Jason Bourne.

Bourne Ultimatum begins after the Moscow Chase sequence in Bourne Supremacy. A tired and hurt Jason Bourne (Matt Damon) evades the police using his acumen for (for the lack of a better word) evading. He later finds out that a London based reporter – Simon Ross (Paddy Considine) has written about him in The Gaurdian. Bourne meets him in London, at the Waterloo Station which is crawling with CIA agents, who are after Ross because he spoke a keyword “Blackbriar” in his cellphone. Blackbriar (the customary cool sounding word in every spy film) is a top secret government sponsored hitman program that was the forerunner to Treadstone.

The plot revolves around Bourne trying to find out the roots of his violent and forgotten past, while tackling hordes of CIA assassins and cronies sent after him. The operation against him is lead by Noah Vosen (David Straithairn) assisted by Pamela Landy (Joan Allen). The film is the very definition of international espionage, traversing Moscow, Tangiers, London, New York, Madrid and other places. There is also a hint of a previous romance between Bourne and Nicky Parsons (Julia Stiles), the logistics chic in Identity and Supremacy.

On Matt Damon

Matt Damon is born to be Bourne. I was watching Ocean’s 13 the other day and every time Damon came on screen, I kept thinking of Bourne. He plays Bourne straight faced and full of emotion. There is always desperation in his eyes, also guilt and cold-blooded calculation. He doesn’t project anything onto the character. Perhaps Damon underplays Jason Bourne a bit, but then again, that’s how spies should be.

On Paul Greengrass

How do you direct a movie that is essentially one large action piece from the first frame to the last? Ask Paul Greengrass. I haven’t seen an action movie this brutally paced since the mind-numbing Mission Impossible II. There are some very intricately directed sequences here. The camera, as with Supremacy is essentially hand-held. This takes the viewer to the center of the action. You start to see things the way Bourne sees it. At the same time, the action around Bourne is captured in a sort of detatched way. The idea is to make the viewer feel that they are covertly viewing (more like eavesdropping on) things as the characters play out the events.

In many ways, this is the end of the Jason Bourne series. Bourne finds his roots and his real identity. There are still questions that need answering, like why he chose to become Jason Bourne and what his relationship was to Nicky parsons. And though I want to know all this, I think a sequel would be a bad idea. The character arc is complete, Bourne recovers his memory. And the end is stylish and restrained. The settings are beautiful, the characters actually breathe and the plot is quite entertaining. The action is believable and fast paced. Bourne Ultimatum delivers on every level.

[Link to IMDB profile]

Rating: 10/10

Eastern Promises is a masterpiece. And I say that at the onset of this review because I cannot find any flaws to discuss about this film. Great films are like good mirrors, they show you who you are. Cronenberg’s mirrors are dark and brooding expressions of humanity. And Eastern Promises is his most polished one yet.

What hits you from frame one is the meticulousness of his compositions – the minute details, the grisly textures, the muted colors and the haunting light. And the assault on our senses is unrelenting in it’s brutality. Brutality and violence, unlike anything else that is put on screen before.

The story is simple and elegant. Anna Khitrova (Naomi Watts) is a midwife, on whose watch a teenage girl dies while giving birth to a baby girl. She finds a diary in the girl’s bag that leads her on a journey through the underbelly of London. This dark place is where Semyon (Armin Mueller-Stahl) resides and rules as a Russian mafia boss. His son, Kirill (Vincent Cassel) is a brute and a drunk. Nikolai Luzhin (Viggo Mortensen) is Kirill’s driver and henchman.

The screenplay by Steven Knight is darker in tone than his previous Dirty Pretty Things, which dealt with organ stealing and like here, with immigrants living on the fringe of London society. Cronenberg uses this as a blueprint to dig deeper, removing the skins off of his characters, quite literally, to reveal the coldness and the warmth inside. And it is often quite ugly. There are dismemberments captured by an almost sadistic camera.

The cinematography, editing and pacing, along with the character conflicts reminds me of The Godfather. But the similarities end there, Eastern Promises stands in its own right as a unique representation of crime, criminals and guilt. But the plot is not of interest here, Cronenberg prefers the characters and the consequences of their actions. And bloody consequences they are.

On Viggo Mortensen and Naomi Watts

While both actors give subdued performances, it is evident that a lot of effort and calculations have gone into it. Viggo Mortensen is invisible under Nikolai. His Russian accent, his powerful stride, his elegant body language, all transform him completely. Naomi Watts has a boiling intensity inside her that is underplayed for tremendous effect. The movie belongs to Mortensen though. There is an unforgettable and brutal fight sequence in a bathhouse – where he takes on two mafia hitmen naked – that will remain etched in memory as one of Mortensen’s best scenes.

On David Cronenberg

“My films are bodycentric. For me, the first fact of human existence is the body and the further we move away from the human body the less real things become and have to be invented by us. Maybe the body is the only fact of human existence that we can cling to. And yet it seems to be much ignored in movie making, although maybe not in art generally. One thinks of a lot of strange, interesting performance artists and painters like Francis Bacon. But in movie making there still seems to be this flight from the body in a weird way.”- David Cronenberg [link to source]

In an interesting discussion about Cronenberg’s body of work with a fellow cinephile, we came to the conclusion that his films run the risk of being called superficial or even inherently pointless. However, this risk does not make them less entertaining. Furthermore, at some core level of our appreciation of human plight, we discover that there is honesty here. And Eastern Promises, though guised as a crime drama, transcends into a spiritual time capsule of late 20th century human flaws, revealing how truly fragile we all are.

[Link to IMDB profile]

Rating: 9/10

The stark beauty of the camera by Matthew Libatique is what will hit you first. Then there is the music by Clint Mansell. However what will remain with you after the end is the depth of Sean Gullette’s depiction of insanity and it’s other half – genius. Darren Aronofsky’s first feature film that wowed Cannes and marched its way to box-office success, works not just because of style alone. Here is a depiction of the torture of passion and the desperation of genius. The film works because the direction, the acting, the camera, the script, and the music all work to create a whole that is much much more than the sum of it’s parts (yes, I resort to cliche here, but what better way to review a film without cliches, than to do it with some).

The plot revolves around a mathematics prodigy Maximillian Cohen, his social anxiety disorder, his paranoia, his genius and the mysteries of Pi. He believes that everything can be expressed by mathematics, that patterns exist everywhere, sometimes just beyond the reach of the human mind. He works on finding patterns in the stock market which is his data set using his computer, Euclid. He realises that he might be on the verge of discovering the meaning of life. The God code.

While Cohen struggles with his addictions, his paranoia and his pain, he finds that he is being pursued by a woman from a stock market firm who thinks he might have found a way to predict future listing prices. And it’s not just materialistic stock market executives who are after him, but also Kabbalistic Jews who want to rediscover the name of God; they think Max has the answer. He knows that the answer lies in a 216 digit pattern in the decimal fractions of Pi. But the decimal stretches to infinity, so which 216 digit pattern is it? This is the Holy Grail he is after and the film focuses on feeding you with measured quantities of it’s mystery, so that when the resolution comes you are not overwhelmed.

On Sean Gullette
The scene compositions in this film feature Max in almost every shot. This sort of sharp focus on a single character would have proved to be a failure in a lesser film, with a lesser actor. But Sean Gullette does not provide any false moments, he piles nuances after nuances in a very measured and disturbingly convincing performance. We cannot take our eyes from his haunted eyes. There are scenes which he underplays – especially during the character setup phase of the film. Then there are scenes he overplays, but these are scenes that showcases Max’s absolute frustrations, when he must step out of himself to find release.

On Darren Aronofsky
Aronofsky’s compositional style is of visual rhetoric and irony. There are the meditative, introspective moments. This cuts into scenes that shock you with it’s unreserved intensity. The protagonist is a pill-popping, obsessive and haunted man. Aronofsky’s style of rapid cuts and stark camera shots not only reveal the character, but takes you inside his loud booming head. This is hard to do, for not only does the director have to have a very strong sense of his character, his plot mechanism and technique, but he also would have to have an idea about the emotional response of the audience to each frame.

Aronofsky grabs you from the first shot on, and the hold is tight and often choking. “Pi” is sublime, it’s meaning can be interpreted in a million ways. The black and white, over-exposed and reversal-filmed shots etch the scenes in your mind. It’s painfull sometimes, but that’s angst, that’s art.

[Link to IMDB profile]

Rating: 9.5/10

I had very high expectations for Fatih Akin‘s The Edge of Heaven before I watched it. The reason being that his previous film Head-On (Gegen Die Wand) [our review] was a thoroughly entertaining and intellectually engaging work. The Edge of Heaven is slower paced, equally edgier and ultimately a more satisfying work from Akin, which left me deeply moved by the end.

The film is divided into three sections. The first one tells the story of Ali (Tuncel Kurtiz), a Turkish immigrant living in Bremen, who asks a Turkish prostitute to move in with him. Yeter (Nursel Köse), the prostitute, who calls herself a woman of “easy virtues,” agrees to do so because of threats from two Turkish fundamentalists who view her profession as unbecoming of her culture. She however develops an affinity towards Ali’s son Nejat (Baki Davrak), who is a professor. The plot revolves around circumstances that lead to Yeter’s death and Nejat’s departure to Istanbul in search of her daughter Ayten.

The second story is of Ayten, who is part of an extremist group in Turkey, forced to flee her country to Bremen. There, she befriends Charlotte (Patrycia Ziolkowska), a student at a university where Ayten takes refuge in. Charlotte and Ayten fall in love. The rest is a heart-wrenching story of the inevitability of their love. Charlotte dies in Istanbul after she comes in search of Ayten, who was deported from Bremen. The final story is the resolution of the first two, wherein the characters find catharsis through each other.

Like Head-On, The Edge of Heaven discusses the issue related with the co-existence of people from different cultures, having differing ideologies. Starting from immigrant woe, idealism and loneliness, the transformations that each of the characters go through are wrought so intricately that the result is a very poignant and realistic portrayal of loss and redemption. I was intrigued by the performance of the actors, especially that of Hanna Schygulla, who plays Charlotte’s disapproving mother Susanne, and Nurgül Yeşilçay, who plays the confused idealist Ayten.

Fatih Akin, takes a more challenging stylistic approach with this film. He does not force the three stories to fit, but lets them unfold with a steady pace. He doesn’t impose himself on the characters or the plot. The result is a film that is both thematically and stylistically complex. And a very moving and accomplished work from a promising young director.

[Link to IMDB profile]

Rating: 8/10

Great men are always of a nature originally melancholy. – Aristotle

Anton Corbijn‘s Control opens with a shot of Ian Curtis (Sam Riley) sitting in his room. The camera gently moves around him, silently observing as he says – “…I exist on the best terms I can.” The following shot shows him with his head bent down, as he sits on the floor. This concise shot, in black and white sets up the movie and it’s protagonist; a reflective film about a sorrowful genius.

This genius is evident to Curtis’ wife Debbie (Samantha Morton) when she first meets him. There are folders on his table labeled ‘Novels’, ‘Poems’ and ‘Lyrics.’ She asks him who wrote them, and he replies by asking her with a slight self-depreciating smirk – “who do you think?” But Curtis’ point of view is not the priority of this film. As the story of his life unfolds, Corbijn’s camera merely looks on, without judging.

However, the focus of the narrative is wound tight around Curtis. Curtis was the lead singer of the post-punk band Joy Division. And Riley builds him into a distant dreamer who is afraid of the epilepsy that makes him lose control of his body, and the detachment that makes him lose control of everything that he holds near. As Curtis rises to fame, he falls further and further into depression. He seeks refuge in an affair with Annik Honore (Alexandra Maria Lara), as he feels no love for his wife. But it leads him to further isolation, he cannot love Annik or Debbie completely, and they cannot love him back completely either.

Control works on every level. As a musical biopic, it shows with authenticity the post-Punk era. As a character drama it’s a revealing journey with Curtis and his inner demon. And when the final scenes come onto the screen, shot with immense restraint by Corbijn, we see just how far Curtis had gone into that dark place within himself.

The cinematography is meticulous, in black and white. The sheer crispness of it all, with the distant shots using telephoto lenses, making the background blur out of focus, and the principal subjects remaining flattened on screen, along with very still meditative frames, all capture the angst of a self-absorbed man living in anguish.

Control’s effect also comes largely from the music of the time. The soundtrack includes Velvet Underground, Iggy Pop, Supersister, David Bowie, The Killers and others, along with Joy Division.

On Anton Corbijn

Corbijn is best known for his work as a photographer with leading rock bands and actors. And it’s his skills as a photographer that really stand out here. Not only does he simply capture sheer beauty in his frames, but he manages to bring out the inner angst of the subjects he is shooting. For a first feature, Control shows immense maturity in terms of direction and mastery over the medium.

It was hard for me not to be affected by this film. Control is a rare biopic – it did not glorify it’s subject and also, it did not flinch away from showing the naked frailty of one of rock music’s most gifted artists. Anton Corbijn’s first feature film is a unique balancing act of melancholy and joy, the melancholy of an introverted musician, and the joy he finds in his music till there is no more joy left to find.

[Link to IMDB profile]

Rating: 8.5/10

Alexander McKendrick once said that cinema is popular art, not fine art. Though the idealist cinephile in me does not agree to that view, I have to reluctantly subscribe to it because of the rest of me. And thus, a film that walks the fine line between popular and fine art, appealing to the intellectual and the ADHD suffering side of me, has got to be perfect. And that’s just what Head-On is.

The film opens on the banks of the Bosporus in Istanbul with the Hagia Sophia visible in the background prominently. A group of Turkish singers start singing folk songs. Cahit Tomruk (Birol Unel) is a self-destructive alcoholic, addicted to every other vice as well, mourning the loss of his dead wife. He works at a club as a bottle collector. One night, after drinking too much as usual, he drives his car into a wall at top speed. This scene, perhaps the most brutally shocking display of a suicide attempt on film, is built up with Depeche Mode‘s addictive ‘I Feel You.’ It’s right here, at the onset of the narrative that the film grabbed me. And it didn’t let me go till its tragic/melancholic conclusion.

He survives the crash and is admitted to a psychiatric clinic. He meets Sibel Guner (Sibel Kekilli), another survivor of a suicide attempt at the clinic. She asks him to marry her. She comes from a Turkish immigrant family who are quite orthodox and highly conservative. And this is the only way, by feigning marriage to a man of Turkish descent, that she can escape from their over-protective clutches and live a life she’d always wanted – one of promiscuity and independence. They marry and she spends their first night with another man. As agreed they share Cahit’s flat, putting up a facade of marital bliss, while both of them engage in their independent fantasies with others.

This arrangement doesn’t last long, he falls in love with her, and slowly she with him. But before they are able to admit it to each other, Cahit makes a fatal mistake. It is the consequence of this event that moves the narrative to the second act. And though the catharsis at the end is tragic, it is also strangely uplifting.

Head-On is an emotionally and intellectually engaging film that discusses self-destruction, struggle with addictions, immigrant pathos, the despair of guilt, the agony of memory, the inevitability and fragility of love. Amidst the chaotic vane life of the characters, there is the simplistic and nostalgic pull of their homeland. And the conflicts are not just personal, but cultural and universal. It is melodramatic, but rooted in arresting reality.

As Cahit and Sibel, Unel and Kekilli are unashamed of their portrayal, and they perform here without a sense of self-preservation. It is riveting to see these brilliant actors making you hate them and love them.

The film draws much of it’s effect from a very impressive soundtrack. It’s a sound palette of contrasts, from Turkish folk songs to Electronica and Punk. The cinematography is hurried and vibrant. The camera feels alive and yet passive. The editing is fast paced with some very effective and energetic nuances. Technically this film is flawless. And it is directed with passion and authority.

As an opinionated critic, I am often left unsatisfied by films because they are either too artsy or too pop (and then there are a large number of films that don’t fall in either category, but in a third one – crud). But this was a film that pleased every bit of me. This is fine art. This is popular art. And it’s a ball-gripping art at that.

[Link to IMDB profile]

Rating – 9.5/10

Ten minutes into the film and you’re certain you’ve chanced upon something rare; a film that is truly an auteur’s labor of love. The Fall is not so much about imagination as it is about childhood innocence.

In a hospital in early 20th century Los Angeles, Roy Parker (Lee Pace), a depressed and suicidal stunt man paralyzed from the waist down befriends a free spirited young girl, Alexandria (played brilliantly by Catinca Untaru, who at the time was only 6 years old) secretly hoping he can charm her enough to get a bottle of morphine. He proceeds to tell her a story that he makes up along the way and the audience is privy to a sumptuously visual tale calling into action colorful characters ranging from an angry slave to Charles Darwin and his pet monkey.

As Roy becomes progressively more depressed in the real world, his story gets darker and immerses an innocent young girl into the recesses of the mind a man on the brink of suicide. As Alexandria starts getting emotionally involved, she goes to great lengths to keep the story going, to keep Roy going, all the while hoping for a happy ending. The third act was so emotionally engaging that I have to confess, I think I may have shed a tear or two.

Shot in some 25 countries, the film is an eye-popping travelogue and the compositions of a few frames are so ridiculously brilliant that you can’t help but marvel at what goes on inside the head of the director.

The characterizations and the plot itself are deeply flawed mostly because the director pays too much attention to visual detail but you’ll be hardpressed not to overlook that. You have to hand it to Tarsem for his audacity; he shot the film over four years with his own money and never allowed studios to touch a single frame. This is evidenced by the lack of a truly uplifting ending.

For me, the film was an immensely personal experience taking me back to my childhood where bedtime stories played an integral part; perhaps the reason why I tend to go off on tangents so often. Escapism, you see, is a beautiful thing.

[Link to IMDB profile]