Sè, Jiè (Lust, Caution) (2007)

I keep seeing movies about women enduring unimaginable pain--Frozen River, Winter's Bone, and now Lust, Caution. Next up: Lars Von Trier's entire catalogue! (Haha, just kidding. I will never watch Antichrist. Just so we're clear, if you would like coverage of Antichrist, this blog will disappoint you. May I recommend the MDCC Media Center instead?)

Okay, well, that turned into a pretty weird lars von tangent. Back to the movie at hand.

Wong Chia Chi (Tang Wei) is a college student in Hong Kong in 1938. A hunky dude named Kuang (Wang Leehom) recruits her and four other students to perform a patriotic play (in order to drum up pro-China, anti-Japan feelings). The audience eats it up, and the six students, giddy with success, decide to take the logical next step: assassinating a collaborator. Chia Chi poses as Mrs. Mak, wife to a conveniently rich and even more conveniently absent businessman; her job is to act sexy and draw the target, Mr. Yee (Tony Leung Chiu Wai), into the students' house, where her co-conspirators will kill him. She almost pulls it off, but Yee is too cautious and insufficiently lustful, and he leaves.

Mrs. Mak doesn't get another chance to seduce Mr. Yee; he moves back to Shanghai. The students are demoralized, but wait--it gets worse! Yee's bodyguard shows up, catches the defeated would-be assassins packing up “Mr. and Mrs. Mak’s house,” and threatens to expose them. They murder him. How do they murder him? Why, very slowly and brutally and inexpertly. Chia Chi runs away, horrified, and that's the end of the first half of the movie.

Three years later, Kuang finds her in Shanghai. He is now a member of the grown-up resistance, and he asks Chia Chi to reprise her role--Yee is now head of the secret police, and the resistance does not like him at all. Mrs. Mak and Mr. Yee start fucking. I found the sex scenes disturbing, stressful, and fraught with uncertainty. That's how one is supposed to react, I think, so great job, Ang Lee et al., but YEESH. Anyway, the uncertainty: the uncertainty is key. Does Yee love Mrs. Mak? How does she feel about him? Will he get assassinated? Will she get caught?

I refer to the main character alternately as Wong Chia Chi and as Mrs. Mak because, over the course of the movie, I found myself forgetting that there was ever a Chia Chi. She's completely divorced from her life, transformed from college student into high society wife. On a bus in Hong Kong, Chia Chi tries her first cigarette because her friend tells her "Artists have to smoke." A few years later, in Shanghai, she stares longingly at every cigarette she sees. She becomes a smoker, because that's how smoking works. Likewise, Wong Chia Chi becomes--to what extent is debatable--Mrs. Mak, because that’s what happens (or can happen) if you pretend to be someone every day. I’m hedging because the character of Wong Chia Chi/Mrs. Mak is pretty opaque. I'm not sure who she ends up being or what she ends up feeling.

When does she enjoy having sex with Yee? Never? Always? Sometimes? It's necessary for Mrs. Mak to want him, but Chia Chi really seems to, too. And that may be why sex is such a powerful centerpiece for this dangerous relationship. Everything else is a lie, but their feral sex seems like it must be honest. It is the most compelling, most emotional thing we see Wong and Yee doing together, so my interpretation of their relationship is largely an interpretation of their sex.

Also, side issue: Chia Chi loses her virginity in a singularly unsentimental fashion. During the Hong Kong plot, the students decide she needs sexual experience before seducing Mr. Yee, so one of her friends, an awkward, sexually bland young man, helps her practice. The tediousness of Chia Chi's first sexual experiences were, for me, a silent specter over her relationship with Yee--whatever he is, he's not boring in bed. I wondered if she would have been as deeply affected if she'd had intense sex before. "With whom?" you ask? (Thank you for asking.) With Kuang! They totally crush on each other. I really wanted those crazy kids to make it work.

It’s funny: I thought the strongest and weakest elements of Lust, Caution were the same as in another Ang Lee movie: Brokeback Mountain. In both, I loved the characters. I loved seeing superb actors create these absorbing (and super sad) relationships. But in both movies, I was less enamored than I would have been, had the pacing been quicker. Sorry for being a dumb clod or whatever, but I think these movies are TOO SLOW.

This might be a weird comparison, but watching Lust, Caution was sort of like reading Perdido Street Station: I read Perdido in little 2-5 page bites for a WHILE, but at a certain point, I felt a kick (no incepto), and I read the rest in one sitting. The second half of Lust, Caution has what I wanted from all of Lust, Caution: a slow pace that's tense and engrossing. That's a different sort of slowness than in the first half, which felt a little lethargic. I think I would have loved the movie if it had been more ruthlessly edited. (Like this blog post, am I right, fellas?)

Okay, now there are things I need to make sense of in this movie, and so I have created some DISCUSSION TOPICS. They are posted after the break, and they contain spoilers. Please do comment on these Very Important Issues if you've 1) made it this far and 2) seen the movie.

We interrupt your test pattern to bring you the following:

Sorry for not posting for a while. I am working on a review but have been unusually (for homebody me) busy. Also, Google Docs failed to save the paragraph in which I summarized the second half of the film. Fair enough, Google Docs. It was not a very good paragraph.

Review up tomorrow!*

*Barring acts of God, aliens, Google, or my personal life

CHEATER #1: Seen In Theaters, January-July 2010

"Cheater" is a new feature wherein I will discuss things that do not fall under the purview of this blog. This first entry is admittedly derivative of Raphael's movie rankings; when I told my roommate Muffin I was going to do this, he laughed and said, "Raphael's whole point is that he joylessly ranks things. Now you're doing the same thing and condemning yourself for unoriginality. It's like the two of you are in a contest for who can enjoy things the least." Yes, we are, and I am winning.

Five stars - Loved It


Io sono l'amore (I Am Love) - Gorgeous melodrama about a rich Milanese family. Tilda Swinton plays the matriarch, a Russian immigrant who “stopped being Russian when she came to Italy” (or [Italian] words to that effect). The movie tracks various upheavals in the Recchi family: daughter Betta’s coming out, the family company’s transfer of power and possible sale, and, foremost, Emma’s affair with her son’s friend Antonio. More than plot, though, Io sono l’amore hinges on atmosphere and feeling. I adored this movie. Near the end I thought, This is probably almost over why why why I would watch this for six hours. It’s beautiful. It’s about love (surprise!) and sex and food, and it’s stylish and thematically rich and ambiguous. It’s brilliantly conceived and brilliantly executed. The score is all John Adams, who has never allowed his music to be used in a movie before. But of course he gave permission for this movie, because this movie is a dream.


Inception - Speaking of dreams! Inception is really fucking well done. I appreciated the restraint when it came to dreamlike images; the premise of the movie is so trippy that piling more surreal visuals onto it would have felt like, well, piling on. I also appreciated Joseph Gordon-Levitt, who is talented, oh-so-fine, and apparently fixing to show the world that he can be an action hero because he can be anything. Seriously, has any young actor, past or present, controlled his/her career as deliberately and cleverly and with such simmering ambition? I have only good things to say about Joseph Gordon-Levitt. I appreciated the different levels of dreaming and the effects they had on each other.

If I were to make one criticism (and I am), it would be that DiCaprio and Cotillard's roles should have been reversed. I got uncomfortable and bummed out by the portrayal of a Strong-Willed Dude and his Lovely, Doomed Wife. Also, the love interest/antagonist character has a ball-and-chain implication that I could do with movies not attaching to women for once, especially when the love interest/antagonist gets no character development beyond that. Also also, could’ve been a lady action hero! Also also also, nothing about the characters--not even their names--would have needed to change if their genders had been flipped. But whatever. Christopher Nolan, despite being a very good director, uses female characters as obstacles, traumas, or exposition in service of his movies’ men (see: Memento, The Prestige, Inception, and especially The Dark Knight). He should work on that.


How to Train Your Dragon - Funnnnnnn. The Viking village of Berk is routinely beset by dragons. The hulking townsmen fend them off or kill them, but teenager Hiccup (Jay Baruchel) is small and nerdy. Like geeks of yore, he tries to make up for his physical weakness with technological superiority, building a catapult. During a dragon attack, Hiccup fells a Black Fury--the most elusive and powerful species of dragon. He finds the dragon the next day, injured in a nearby canyon, and they bond, much to the (eventual) chagrin of the anti-dragon residents of Berk. From there, it unfolds basically how you’d expect, and it is charming and such a pleasure to watch. All in all, a wonderful children's movie in which characters eventually recognize the oppression besetting their enemies, aid them in their revolution, and then everyone is friends and the aristocracy is dead! No? Maybe?

Four stars - Really Liked It


Winter's Bone - Ree Dolly (Jennifer Lawrence) is a seventeen-year old raising her two younger siblings and taking care of their catatonic mother. Her father, a meth cook who disappears for long stretches, has skipped bail--a bail he paid by putting his family's house up for security. Ree sets out to find him and save her family from homelessness. Few people help Ree, many try to wreck her investigation, and through all this she is a model of sympathetic strength. She's smart and kind and brave and dogged and… you know what? It is kind of weird to see a character with no discernable flaws whose every problem arises from circumstance. All the conflict in the movie happens because she refuses to give in to an impossibly cruel world. There is nothing wrong with her. And something about that just felt flat to me. I would have felt more engaged if this hadn't seemed to me the story of a saint’s martyring.

That said, I was still very engaged! I leaned forward in my seat for much or most of the movie. I cringed during the scene in the pond. I am not a robot. Jennifer Lawrence’s performance is great, as are the performances of John Hawkes as Teardrop and Dale Dickey as Merab. The script was lean, Debra Granik’s direction beautiful and stark, and overall it seemed like a great portrayal of desolation in the Ozarks, although what do I know from the Ozarks? In any case, an excellent movie that didn’t suck me in as much as I thought it should have.


Micmacs à tire-larigot (Micmacs) - Jean-Pierre Jeunet + Rube Goldbergian schemes + antipathy to the arms industry = my movie, for me. Thank you for making a movie for me, world! The sweetly awkward Bazil (Dany Boon) goes to live with a merry band of marginals in a scrap dump after his life is upended by a stray bullet in the head. They have a grand old time salvaging trash and turning it into exciting stuff, and they agree to join Bazil on a quest he happens upon: revenge against the weapons manufacturers whose products injured Bazil and killed his father (who died defusing a landmine when Bazil was a child). Micmacs is a lot of fun. The resolution is weaker than the rest of the movie, but I still came out of the theater delighted.


Please Give - Kate (Catherine Keener) and Rebecca (Rebecca Hall) are two women who are guiltily preoccupied with being good. Kate worries her wealth is parasitic: she buys dead people's furniture cheap and sells it in her fancy vintage shop; she's also waiting for her next-door neighbor to die so she can break through the wall and expand her apartment. Rebecca feels obligated to care for her sour, mean grandmother--the aforementioned dying neighbor. The main cast is filled out by their family members, none of whom have Kate or Rebecca’s “goodness” impulse. Please Give questions the usefulness of that impulse, but it also explores what it is to live without it, to be a mean grandmother, a vain sister, or an amoral husband. It’s a quotidian-lives-of-upper-middle-class-New-Yorkers kind of movie, which is not a lot of people’s bag, but I guess it is my bag? I liked this movie. The performances are strong, and the characterization is great.

Three stars - Liked It


Greenberg - Roger Greenberg (Ben Stiller) is a sad guy who is mean to everyone, including his lovely romantic interest Florence (Greta Gerwig) and his lovely friend Ivan (Rhys Ifans). I enjoyed this movie most when it was being very, very awkward but not very, very cruel. Examples: the first, abrupt sex scene and the scene in the hospital when Florence is recuperating. (The burger-on-belly bit was one of my favorite jokes ever. Fucking gold.) The movie overall, however, did not do that much for me. I really enjoyed Gerwig and Ifans’ performances, though.


Breaking Upwards - I remember liking this independent rom-com, but I’m finding it surprisingly difficult to remember anything about it! Um, it’s about a couple (Zoe Lister-Jones and Daryl Wein) attempting an open relationship and doing so messily and often thoughtlessly. It features Pablo Schreiber as a very creepy dude and Andrea Martin as a super awesome mom. It was made for something like $15,000. I thought it was good.


Predators - I am not alone when I say that the opening of this movie is the best part. Still, I had a good time watching the whole thing. The downside: Predators has a weak script. The characters are so unlikable and the challenges so insurmountable that I disengaged, the "run-get killed-run" pattern gets repetitive, and the plot twist was telegraphed by the movie's premise itself ("prey" humans are chosen for their ruthlessness, so the one gentle human will turn out to be ruthless). The upside: a strong cast. Adrien Brody makes for a really interesting action hero. Alice Braga made me sympathetic to her slight character, though not to the writers who assigned all the feelings to The Woman because of course they did. I am Walton Goggins' #1 Fan, so of course I loved him. I did not love Louis Ozawa Changchien's role, but I don't think that was his fault; his character, a Yakuza enforcer named Hanzo, was a parade of stereotypes. Laurence Fishburne makes a welcome appearance as a crazy person. Another upside to Predators is its direction. I'm not commenting on anything technical because I don't understand anything technical. What I'm saying is, "I had a good time, it looked okay, and I could tell what the fuck was going on." The trend of shooting action movies all close up and shaky irritates and confuses me, because I am 85 years old.

Two stars - Didn't Like It


Iron Man 2 - I liked this better than Iron Man, because this was shittier. I know everybody else liked Iron Man, but I didn't--perhaps because I saw it on a 13-inch computer screen with an ex-boyfriend who liked almost no movies or perhaps because its "violence is wrong; take a look at this Taliban dude on FIRE!" ethos pissed me off. Anyway, Iron Man 2 has plenty of objectionable shit--privatizing world peace? Ugh go die--but it didn't bother me, because I could not take anything seriously in the movie that featured Mickey Rourke as Angry Russian Fusion Whip Man. One might say, "Why did you take anything seriously in the first movie? It is a superhero movie!" and to that I would say, "Because, though Iron Man had a lot of explosions, it did not have enough explosions to keep the political anxiety section of my brain at bay." Did Iron Man 2 have more explosions than its predecessor? I felt like it did. It's possible that the two movies were similar but my reactions were vastly different: during Iron Man, I thought: what a waste of Jeff Bridges; during this movie, I thought, Hi, Don Cheadle and Sam Rockwell! It is nice to see you! Robert Downey, Jr. was charming in the first movie and is charming in this one. The only thing I can think to say about either the characters of Pepper Potts and Natasha Whatever or the performances of Gwyneth Paltrow and Scarlett Johansson is: how aggressively boring.


Leap Year - I did not see this in theaters, per se. I saw it on my bed, while it was in theaters (don't tell the IP police). My roommate Alice and I lay on our stomachs and played the "regressive gender politics" drinking game. Basically that means we consumed beer steadily as we watched this movie. We howled and mocked our way through it, and we had a grand old time, which puts this movie in the uncomfortable category of "this is shit, I know this is shit, I don't want Netflix to think I want to watch as many movies like this as possible, and yet I undeniably enjoyed it, though that probably just means I enjoy Alice's company." What's the star rating for that?

One star - Hated It


Clash of the Titans - Boy, did this make me feel vindicated about Sam Worthington! He is every bit as boring as I always expected but could never prove, having avoided seeing Avatar, Terminator Salvation, etc., barf. (Tangent: in February, NYT Magazine asked actors what their favorite performances of the aughts were. Answers ranged from awesome--Vera Farmiga said Michael Fassbender in Hunger--to regular--Clooney said Marion Cotillard in La Môme--to INSANE: Sam Worthington's favorite performance of the last decade was apparently Eddie Murphy in The Nutty Professor. And what's weird about that choice, apart from everything, is that The Nutty Professor was released in 1996. Perhaps he meant 2000's Nutty Professor II: the Klumps? I hope not! Sam Worthington, you are so weird.) Anyway, this movie is a ludicrous assembly of trashy special effects, terrible makeup and costumes, and a nonsensical script. I don’t think director Louis Leterrier was necessarily aiming for coherence, to be fair, but what he was aiming for, I do not know. This movie has Liam Neeson and Ralph Fiennes playing opposite each other, and even they cannot do anything to make it less of a piece of shit.

Avatar: the Last Airbender, Book 1: Water (2005)

This show's okay, but I did feel like it had too few white people? You know how that is, when you're watching some mainstream Hollywood entertainment and you're just like, "Damn. So many people of color." It's not that big a deal, but if they were to adapt this into a movie, my one recommendation would be "more white people." If I were permitted to elaborate, my recommendation would be "more white people except make the Fire Nation genero-brown. A sort of South Asian/Middle Eastern/Latino group. I would find those racial politics more palatable--and current!" That would be my recommendation.

Just kidding, everybody! I am simply making a timely (nope) joke about The Last Airbender, a movie so nice that it has a lower RottenTomatoes score than Jonah Hex. Terrible though the movie may be (going off of conventional wisdom here; I haven't seen it), the Nickelodeon cartoon on which it's based, Avatar: the Last Airbender, is really good.

Avatar: The Last Airbender is about a kid named Aang (Zach Tyler Eisen) who's supposed to save the world. His world is made up of four countries: the Water Tribes, the Earth Kingdom, the Fire Nation, and the Air Nomads. (I question the structure of these nation-states: while the Earth and Fire countries are contiguous, the Water and Air territories are far-flung, at opposite ends of the map and separated by Fire and Earth lands. How, exactly, did the widespread Water and Air cultures develop similarly? Did they start in one area, then colonize the others? Also, while the Earth Kingdom is multiethnic, the other three populations seem to be homogenous. Maybe?) ANYWAY: a small minority of each country's populations are "benders"--people who can "bend" one element to their will, using Chinese martial arts. The Avatar is the one person who can learn to bend all four elements.

At the beginning of the series, Aang has been frozen for 100 years (along with his giant six-legged flying bison Appa) in a huge ball o' ice at the South Pole. He's discovered by Katara (Mae Whitman) and Sokka (Jack DeSena), two teenage members of the Southern Water Tribe. Katara is a Waterbender. Sokka is a Xander--sometimes heroic, but lacking in superpowers and typically used for comic relief. The 100 years that Aang missed were pretty important, on account of the Fire Nation went genocidal and exterminated his Air diaspora peoples. The Fire Nation has also been waging war on the Water Tribe and Earth Kingdom for a century, but the Water and Earth people aren't as bad off as the Air people (i.e. they still exist).

The show follows Aang's quest to master all four bending disciplines and defeat the evil Fire Lord. He is accompanied by Katara and Sokka and pursued by the Javert-ian Prince Zuko (Dante Basco), heir to the Fire Nation throne. Zuko has been banished by his dick Fire Lord father, and he can only regain his honor and return home if he captures the Avatar.

This is a really fun show, and the second half of the season is especially impressive. I tried to make a list of my favorite episodes of the season but quickly realized that my favorites were pretty much "episode 10 through 18," which is too many favorites. Oddly, some of my favorite episodes are allegorical: "The Great Divide" explores conflict and subjectivity; it follows two feuding tribes as they are forced to cross a treacherous canyon together. That kind of story (especially in kids' TV) usually feels heavy-handed to me, but this one is thoughtful and interesting. Likewise "Jet" and "Bato of the Water Tribe"--two episodes that examine trust from different angles. These episodes could easily have descended into preachiness but don't. Avatar is notable for its strong plots and lack of condescension.

This show also has badass gadgets! In "The Northern Air Temple," the Fire Nation has these tanks where if you flip them over, the center bit where the humans hang out flips over, too. I'm explaining this poorly, but the way this goes down is the good guys manage to flip over a tank, and they're like YES but then the middle of the tank flips itself, the tracks keep on rolling, and the good guys are like OH SHIT. It is very cool! That whole episode is replete with steampunk insanity and delightful designs.

The one other thing I want to talk about in Avatar: the Last Airbender is FEMINISM. (Sorry this is so haphazard, by the way, but it is pretty hard to review a whole season at once, especially when you are not putting in the time and effort to write something well [see: me, right now].) FEMINISM is important in this cartoon, as exemplified by episode 18, which I think is called "The Waterbending Master," but I'm not going to double-check, and I don't know for sure because while I wrote down other episode titles in my notes, here I only wrote "118 - fuck you patriarchy."

The main conflict in "The Waterbending Master" is that Aang and Katara have traveled no joke across the fucking EARTH to study with this dude named Master Paku, but when they get to the Northern Water Tribe (which, incidentally, is Polar Venice--bridges and canals carved out of ice; it's great), Paku says he'll only teach Aang. "In my culture ladies are not allowed to learn to water-fight. Go learn how to water-heal, you vagina." Katara and Aang's shared position on this is "are you a fucking joke," which makes sense, because they traveled the entire distance of the world for this purpose and now sexism what the shit.

Katara gets mad, Aang says that he's not going to study with an asshole who won't teach ladies, and Katara says, "wait, no, that's a bad idea because the world will end if you don't learn waterbending." She resigns herself to not learning for all of 6 hours or something, but then she and Aang decide that, every night, he'll just teach her what he learned that day. Master Paku catches them immediately, gets super angry, and kicks Aang out of his class. Katara and Aang go before a tribunal or some shit to appeal this, and the chief says that maybe Paku would take Aang back if "you [i.e. Katara] swallow your pride and apologize." Through his shit-eating grin, Paku says, "I'm waiting, little girl." And a vein bursts in Katara's temple and instead of "I'm sorry," she is more like "FUCK YOU; P.S. PISTOLS AT DAWN." So then she fights this incredible master, right, even though she only knows a little waterbending. And she does such a good job! He still hands her her ass, but first she bends like she's never bent before.

The fight doesn't convince Paku that he's an ass, but his discovery that Katara's grandmother is his long-lost betrothed what ran away to the Southern Water Tribe does convince him because Katara seizes on the opportunity to say, "CLEARLY SHE LEFT YOU BECAUSE OF PATRIARCHY." Harsh? Yes, but Paku immediately shapes the fuck up and teaches her waterbending. Result! Now, what's interesting about all this is that before fighting Paku, Katara is a less capable waterbender than Aang. She starts the series knowing more, but his learning curve is much steeper. Post-Paku-conflict, Katara becomes the bomb. She is better at waterbending than Aang. She is the best. One could interpret this as an inconsistency, but I see it this way instead: her "come to Jesus" moment ("come to Jesus" = "feminist epiphany") has opened the floodgates and revealed her amazing latent power. POTENT METAPHOR YOU GUYS.

Hunger (2008)

Well, here we go, everybody. Hunger opens with three intertitles, which say:

Not a lot of context, especially since the movie is so stingy on dialogue. I don't know much about the Troubles, generally, or about the Maze prison, specifically, so I was a little lost at first. That turned out to be completely okay. If anything, my ignorance heightened the feelings of desperation and immediacy that Hunger works to build. The movie's not apolitical, but it's also not primarily political. It's more about specific conditions and individual reactions to them. It's a microscopic examination of pain as a way of life--for prisoners and officers alike.

I just said there wasn't much dialogue in Hunger, but that's not quite true. For about 25 minutes in the middle, Hunger is all talking. But the movie before that long scene and the movie after it is light on speech and heavy on physical degradation: excretions, beatings, death. It's slow but riveting, unfolding at an oozing pace.

Basically it's a date movie.

In the first section of Hunger, we see the routines of two Republican prisoners and a guard. Their daily lives are tedious, violent, and dominated by bodily fluids. The guard often looks, rapt, at his bloody knuckles. He examines them when he smokes; he soaks them in hot water before and after his shifts. For the prisoners, their excretions are their last resort. They are years into the no wash protest, and their cell walls are thick with shit and blood. At a yelled signal, they all pour their collected urine under their doors into the H-Block hallways.

The genius of this painfully long, lovingly filmed portrayal of seeping misery is the contrast it creates with the second part of the movie: the 25-minute conversation between Bobby Sands (Michael Fassbender) and Father Dominic Moran (Liam Cunningham). Without realizing it, I had adjusted to watching violence and putrefaction, and I felt the thrill you're supposed to have during the actiony bits of movies in the one scene where no one is hitting anyone else, where there are just two people talking in a room without sticky sights or sounds.

Sands has called the priest to the prison to talk about the impending hunger strike. They banter for a while, but then they get down to the business of arguing. Father Dom thinks Bobby is being crazy and destructive; Bobby thinks Dom doesn't get it on account of living a cushy life without shit on his walls. Although the scene's between a priest and a man about to embark on an act of pseudo-Christian martyrdom, the conversation's aggressively secular. They talk about the propaganda value of the hunger strike. They talk about attempting negotiations with the British government. When Sands asks, detached and skeptical, "God's gonna punish me?" Father Dom responds, "Well, if not just for the suicide, then he'd have to punish you for stupidity." It is a really good scene, you guys.

The talk ends, and the last section of the movie begins with a doctor describing how a hungry body shuts down. Then we see Sands starve. It's really, really brutal, and it feels really, really long (it's actually just under 20 minutes--shorter than the Father Dom scene). As Sands flickers out, we see his memory/vision of himself as a child in the countryside. I could have done without that. It's a callback to the end of his conversation with the priest, and it's not that sentimental, but it's still too sentimental for me. This movie's so tough to watch; I didn't want anything that felt like a relief from that. Little Bobby in the field felt to me like a lone distraction in an otherwise single-minded movie. Steve McQueen, the director, said in an interview that he "wanted to get out of that prison cell" and give "people a chance to breathe," but I didn't want a chance to breathe at minute 123 of this 125-minute beast.

Sands' exchange with the priest is definitely my favorite part of the movie. Not just because it is mercifully free of fecal sculpture and running sores, but because DAMN is that some acting and DAMN is that some writing. Fassbender and Cunningham perform this smart, emotional scene with passion and nuance. The intensity is amplified by the famous seventeen-minute take; for most of the scene, the two actors share the frame, the camera fixed, their profiles in shadow (see below). They're so expressive, but you don't see their faces very clearly. You feel the urgency and conviction in the words, their voices, and the tilt of their bodies.

(Look, I feel really weird about the tags for this: I don't want to rate it. Five stars, I guess? It is superbly put-together and made me have a lot of feelings, so I'm not sure what more I could ask. And while it fails the Bechdel test, so what, you know? Almost no one talks in this movie. There's one long conversation. Apart from that, you could count the intelligible lines on two hands--one hand if you don't count the audio clips of Margaret Thatcher.)

We are fighting, Netflix.

Look, maybe I want to watch Oldboy. And maybe it is on Netflix Instant. Sounds good? No, it sounds TERRIBLE, because it is DUBBED. What the fuck.

Also a little while ago I tried to watch Hunger (the one where Michael Fassbender plays Bobby Sands, not any number of other movies called Hunger or The Hunger), and there was no sound? None? And I don't know about you, but I like to hear the feces being slapped onto walls by political prisoners. I don't want that to be silent.

Just tried it again, though, and Hunger now includes the luxury of audio. So maybe I'll review that instead of a foreign language movie. Netflix, you xenophobe.