A Touch of Zen (King Hu, 1971)

Sword and cinema sorcery

King Hu's A Touch of Zen differs from his earlier Dragon Gate Inn and later The Valiant Ones in that the film begins not with a heroic character, but humble one: Ku Shen Chai (Shi Chun), a scholar who wastes his education writing letters and painting portraits on commission. Ku is visited by Ouyang Nin (Ting Peng) who asks for a portrait; Ku, sketching, is struck by the intensity of Ouyang's eyes. When Ouyang abruptly leaves him to follow herbalist Dr. Lu (Sit Hon), Ku is intrigued by his manner, and follows. Hu stages, shoots and edits this surveillance-within-a-surveillance so skillfully that not only are we caught up with it we also get a quick lesson in the town's local geography: we know where Ku's portrait shop is in relation to Dr. Lu's herb stand; we know exactly at what point Dr. Lu disappears (to the consternation of Ouyang Nin); when Dr. Lu reappears behind watchful Ku, we are as startled as he is.

The marvelous sequence, utilizing not a line of dialogue, does several things at once: it strikes the right note of intrigue and mystery, introduces three important characters (Ouyang Nin, Ku, Dr. Lu), sketches their relationship to each other (follower, second follower, followed), emphasizes the fascination Ouyang Nin has for Ku. It also shows Hu the director effortlessly tossing off a masterful piece of cinema for no other reason than that it serves the story.

Once Were Warriors (Lee Tamahori, 1994)

Paalam, Lee Tamahori (1950-2025)

Brief thoughts on his first and arguably best film:

Once Were Warriors. Beth Heke--perhaps too neatly--stands for what was proud in her people. A Maori princess, she turned her back on her heritage to marry Jake Heke and have children by him. Jake, who represents the degraded Maori, responds to his wife's royal pride by ignoring their children and beating her. Predictable and schematic, but first time director Lee Tamahori knows enough to give his film an intensity that rides over the obviousness. He bathes the film in orange light-- a brilliant lava glow that falls on the blasted urban landscape, turning junkyards and cheap housing developments into barbaric temples in twilight. Against this backdrop stand the Maoris, huge muscled people with tattooed faces living violent, chaotic lives. 

In the film's strongest sequence, Jake throws an all-night party, a nightmare of half-full beer bottles drunken guests greasy dishes that climaxes with Jake battering Beth. No open-handed slaps or rabbit punches--Jake takes roundhouse swings at her with his entire weight behind them, pounding, bone-breaking blows. He grips her by the back of the neck and rams her head into a picture frame. He throws her across the room, and half the furniture at her, then ends the evening by raping her.

It helps the film to have Temuera Morrison, who's both threatening and compelling as Jake; even at his most brutal, he invests Jake with a primitive innocence. As Beth, Rena Owen is earthy, sexy, loving and courageous. You flinch for her when she stands up to Jake-- the bruises on her face are horrendous-- but stand up to him she does. You can see all the pride of the Maoris in her erect posture and magnificently chiseled face.

Batman Returns (Tim Burton, 1992)

Masquerade 

(WARNING: story and plot twists discussed in close and explicit detail)

Saw Tim Burton's Batman Returns on the big screen again after three decades and far as I'm concerned: not just the best onscreen incarnation of the character ever but one of three best examples of its genre, period. Channels a distinct look-- German Expressionism-- with extensive use of miniatures and forced perspective and gigantic sets and minimal digital effects; puts Danny Elfman's creepy-swoony-funny holiday season score to lively use; features a trio (actually a quartet) of stylized performances savoring the sparkling dialogue they've been served (by Daniel Waters)-- as if seated at an extravagant champagne feast of which they've never seen the likes before, and likely never will again.

And the film's so kinky. And subversive. And stuffed to the ears with eat-the-rich sentiment. A lot of frankly explicit jokes, including a scene of Selina (Michelle Peiffer) getting hold of Bruce's (Michael Keaton's) codpiece (prolly helped that Keaton-- clever lad--specifically requested to be able to relieve himself while wearing the costume). You could tell writer and director couldn't care less about the plot, much less the eponymous character (or at least his official job title), much less the source material, and it's a liberating feeling, a pretentious goth art film masquerading as a multimilliondollar superhero movie. Parents were right to be outraged and Warner Brothers was right to be alarmed, and I still wouldn't recommend this to anyone who thinks Pixar and Disney movies are worth watching. This is strictly a one-of-a-kind gloriously bonkers misfire that deserves to be treasured as such. 

Frankenstein (Guillermo del Toro, 2025)

Hail, Mary

(Warning: plot twists and story discussed in full and explicit detail!)

If you don't know anything about Guillermo del Toro's

Frankenstein (2025) know this: he spent eighteen years sketching, researching, talking, all-around wheeling and dealing with talents and studios to make this, his Great White Whale film adaptation of what he calls his 'favorite novel in the world.' So if he changed anything in Mary Shelley's book while making this picture-- know that he did so out of love. 

Is the film worth a look? Well let me tell you.

Quezon (Jerrold Tarog, 2025)

Quezon!

Start right off with a caveat: not a historian, merely a student of film. I can talk of storytelling and visual style, but of historical facts about the period and details of the man himself? At most I can repeat what I've found through online research, perhaps hazard a few inexpert opinions based on what I've read. 

Jerrold Tarrog's Quezon (2025) begins in quietly spectacular fashion, taking its cue from the film that inspired many an aspiring director, Welles' Citizen Kane: a silent short depicting the younger Quezon (Benjamin Alves) during the Philippine-American War; for the rest of the running time fictional journalist Joven Hernando (Cris Villanueva) dogs Quezon's heels, digging into and commenting on the man's life the way Jerry Thompson dug into and commented on Charles Foster Kane. Tarog with cinematographer Pong Ignacio (who lensed the previous two installments of the director's period epic) employs the kind of sweeping camera movements Welles used in his second feature The Magnificent Ambersons, or Bertolucci in 1900 or-- to name a model closer to home-- Peque Gallaga in his wartime drama Oro Plata Mata (mind you, I'm not ranking Mr. Tarog as equal to Welles or even Bertolucci, just citing influences).   

Le Grand Illusion (Grand Illusion, Jean Renoir, 1937)

Goodness gracious

(WARNING: story discussed in explicit detail)

Some find La Grand Illusion (Grand Illusion, 1937) formless, which I suspect only proves Renoir's artistry. The film does have a design, buried in so much minutiae, told in such an unprepossessing manner, that you can't really be blamed for missing it (as if Renoir ever intended you to see it in the first place). The film is structured like a three-act play, with trimmings: a short prologue gives us the setup and introduces two of four major characters-- Boldieu (Pierre Fresnay) calls out Mareschal (Jean Gabin) to join him on a reconnaissance mission; a quick wipe and Boldieu and Mareschal are POWs meeting the third major character, the officer who shot them down, Rauffenstein (Erich Von Stroheim).

Signs (M Night Shyamalan, 2002)

Little green men

M. Night Shyamalan's The Sixth Sense featured a nicely intense performance from a child actor, some creepy atmospherics, a neat twist that makes you want to sit up and applaud for O all of two seconds. Unbreakable I found more interesting because Shyamalan had shrugged off his mainstream appeal and started to show his true colors: a comic-book freak who takes his superheroes seriously, to the point of spending the budget of a major motion picture telling an origin story.

Shyamalan's latest-- where Mel Gibson and family find funny going-ons in the middle of their cornfield-- shows no sign whatsoever of him apologizing for his career to date. His first movie was a hit his second an interesting failure (though not to my eyes, not quite); he's on to something, he believes, and in Signs he wants to make believers of all of us.