The Endless (2017)

For the most part, cults don’t usually have good or positive reputations. I think the word ‘cult’ itself can carry so much connotation that the mere mention of it in a conversation can really change the tone of it. I don’t have much of an opinion on people who live in cults because I’ve never met one, nor do I desire to. In Endless (2017), the audience is given a sneak peek into the lives of Justin and Aaron, two brothers who struggle to cope with the aftermath of escaping their group, Camp Arcadia. From the very start, we all know that the men came from a cult – the news clips, the therapy sessions and the difficulty of adjusting to seemingly normal life make it very clear. I felt bad for them for a few good minutes until Aaron suggested that they go back to visit the cult for a day. This made me root for Justin more – he was the big brother and father figure, the one that made sense, the one that remembers the cult for all its crazy UFO death obsession. I felt bad for Aaron, but I really didn’t trust his memories or his intentions.

The film itself is dark and washed out, almost like a photo that endured a couple of rounds in the washing machine. Visually, it doesn’t really scream “happy”, and nothing in it really did. When the brothers arrive at Camp Arcadia, you can’t help feel a little creeped out by how calm and happy everyone is despite, you know, them being in a UFO death cult. Despite their efforts to be welcoming and friendly, I didn’t trust a single of the camp members. I wasn’t sure of who to trust and what to believe in, and I felt like I was clenching my whole body while I was watching. The scene that really got to me was the tug of war scene. Hal explains that there’s someone standing on the ladder and holding the rope up, but we see everyone present still while Aaron pulls at it. It send shivers down my spine, and it confirmed my suspicions that something really WEIRD was going on at the camp. There were other scenes that really freaked me out – the random photos of people being left out for them to find, the two moons in the sky, the mysterious tape that Justin found in a toolbox in the lake (where he also saw a monster, by the way), – all of it is strange and creepy and definitely confirms that the whole cult is on to something. I started to doubt Justin’s memories and start believing in Aaron more, especially because he was much more open to exploring the camp and listening to the other members.

Apart from it being a cult movie, The Endless really explores human experience and how their similarities or differences shape the way we move forward with our relationships. Even though they were all kinda weird, the members of Camp Arcadia really did try their best to provide Justin and Aaron a home and a family. It’s unfortunate that they had to die and all, but their shared experiences led to the growth of the brothers’ relationship with each other. Despite Justin and Aaron butting heads throughout the movie, we see that their bond and love for each other as siblings withstands any weird time loop or crazy UFO monster. o B��]9

Sorry to Bother You (2018)

Let’s face it – capitalism sucks. It holds everyone in place without much regard for whether or not they like it there. It sets us off on necessary, inescapable routines that can do more harm than good. It cleanses us of any soul and desire to keep going, because we know it doesn’t get much better unless we’re really, really lucky. These were some the thoughts that were running through my mind while watching Boots Riley’s Sorry to Bother You (2018). Personally, I was really excited to watch this film because I’m a big fan of Lakeith Stanfield (his portrayal of Darius in Atlanta is my fave) and Tessa Thompson (Valkyrie?!?), and I love anything that pokes fun at capitalism. While it fulfilled its role as a dark comedy and social commentary on the current state of labor and class division, it turned out to be SO much more than that.

I couldn’t help but think about how smart the film was. There were so many small details that at first didn’t seem to be that big of deal, but looking at how it fit into the entire narrative became crucial parts to propel the story forward. My favorite part of the film was the utilization of the ‘white voice’ by the characters of color. Cash and everyone who wasn’t white all acknowledged how real it was, and how powerful you can be when you use it. It clearly explains how race is still a big factor in the success of a person – how mimicking the sound and behavioral patterns of a white man will move you light years ahead of any black man who sticks to his own thing. Cash recognizes this, fully embraces it and lets his desire for more take over his entire life. This happens to the other people in his life as well – Detroit uses her white voice when she’s looking to sell her art; His boss uses the white voice at work pretty much all the time; and Cash even slips into the white voice even when he’s not working. This is an all-too familiar arc for the working class and is the kind of reality they might fear, but secretly want too. Nobody really perceives fame and success as bad things. They’re not, but when you achieve it by being something you’re not, it calls into question whether you really have them.

Another part of the movie that threw a total curveball at me was the whole idea of the equisapiens. Seriously, who thinks of that? I clearly didn’t see it coming, and yet it makes so much sense to the plot. As crazy as the whole idea sounds, it fits into the narrative without making it sound impossible or a haphazard add-on to make it funny. The detail of the equisapien transformation process, the reasoning behind it and the discovery of the transformed were so well-thought out that I couldn’t doubt its legitimacy. The debates on wokers’ rights and the rallies that happened after were all too real for me. It bothered it me to know that maybe we’ve all seen this before and that we still don’t know how to fix it. The pressure of capitalism takes a toll on all of us, but we don’t really like hearing that sort of thing because we feel like there’s nothing we can do about it. Despite its title, I don’t think Sorry to Bother You is sorry at all – if anything, it demands that you listen up, pay attention and do something.

Repo Man (1984)

When you think about aliens and the government agenda, you definitely don’t assume that it’s going to involve a green glowing car, but this is exactly what happens in Alex Cox’s Repo Man (1984). The story follows Otto, a young punk that takes on a repo job while dealing with a lot of other strange occurrences along the way. A lot of what happens in this film are a bunch of coincidences patched together. It feels like a couple of different films all mashed up into one – a sci-fi crime thriller, an ode to punk rock, a satire on mindless consumerism. The whole thing manages to stay true to its rebellious spirit through characters like Otto and Bud, who refuse to deviate from their tough guy aesthetic and their hatred of conformity. This strangely connects to the way many characters of the film are obsessed with a certain ideology, and how people like Otto and Bud look down on them. The scene where Otto’s parents are glued to the television screen as a man talks about God and salvation was all too familiar for me, especially during a time when order and normalcy is being challenged. People like Otto’s parents are dedicated to being part of the power that holds things together, while people like Otto want nothing to do with it. The whole idea of the mindless existence is also pointed out – though not as obviously – throughout the film during the scenes filmed in stores. All the product labels were generic and unbranded, and yet people were still buying them. This is why repo men even exist in the first place. The idea of commodification and the entrance into a reckless, thoughtless way of consuming the things around us were all ideas that the punk rock era wanted to fight against. In a society where everything seems to be laid out, people like Otto give it the finger.

What Repo Man did differently was the way it refused to succumb to the Hollywood formula of a “good” movie – it RAN off the beaten path and embraced it without explaining to anyone why it had to. There were several parts of the film that left me scratching my head, but I let it slide because I had the feeling that nothing was going to make sense anyway. The plot itself is something I’d never even dared to imagine.

In all honesty, I didn’t enjoy watching the movie. I understand the whole plot to a certain extent, but it never felt cohesive to me at all. There weren’t many moments where I was genuinely caught up in the story, mostly because it was all way too confusing and strange for me to make any sense of it. Unlike Schizopolis – a weird a nonsensical movie that I actually enjoyed watching – Repo Man had a strange untouchable vibe made the whole nonsensical aspect of it difficult to appreciate. It felt like it was trying too hard to be cool and edgy, and not so concerned with actually giving the audience something to like. Maybe that was the whole point that I missed. There were a lot of parts that I missed, but I definitely won’t be rewatching it any time soon to figure them out.

Velvet Goldmine (1998)

Gays, gold makeup and a whole lotta glitter – this is essence of Todd Haynes’ Velvet Goldmine (1998), a wild and musical ode to the glam rock era and gay culture of the 1970s. Admittedly, I don’t have much experience with the kind of music or scene that the film focused on, so I was unsure of what to expect. I’m not sure if I particularly LIKE the music in the film, but I can safely say that it stands out from anything that I usually listen to and for that fact alone, I can appreciate and respect it.

The idea that pop stars used to live the way Brian Slade and Curt Wild did is almost impossible for me to think about – and yet, we’ve all heard of this type of person before. The character of Brian Slade (Jonathan Rhys Meyers) is the cinematic re-imagining of David Bowie, and its obvious in the numerous parallels in their clothing, music, tumultuous careers and personal lives. Brian Slade himself is a curious character – he’s never fully realized or bared for the audience to totally understand. We gets bits and pieces of him throughout the movie and through his music, but we never truly get to see who Brian Slade really is apart from his involvement in the entertainment industry and his stage persona, Maxwell Demon. Similarly, we have the character of Curt Wild (Ewan McGregor), who is loosely based on Iggy Pop and Lou Reed and breaks every single barrier by showcasing the dirty, messy and gritty side of performing on stage. This intrigues Brian, and the two cross paths and agree to do music and, eventually, each other.

The exploration and expression of sexuality was a major movement in the 1970s and the glam rock era supported this wholly. With the idea of androgynous makeup, clothing and the wider acceptance of the LGBT community came the an era of music that empowered formerly socially outcast members of society and provided them with a sense of belonging and understanding among like-minded people. The sexual part of Brian and Curt’s relationship leaked out into their music and self-expression, because they were both comfortable enough to do so. This even spilled out into Arthur Stuart, an avid glam rock fan in his younger days and member of the queer community too. His encounter with Curt Wild was a turning point in figuring out his identity and finding a way to confidently living it out.

Both Brian and Curt become too much for each other and themselves individually, and this serves as a catalyst for their downward spirals. Brian’s struggle to find a clear distinction between his personal and professional life is something we see too often with the famous pop stars of today, and it cannot be denied that the pressure of it all can take a serious toll on them. The price of stardom is hefty, and leaves almost no room for to step back without consequences. The creation of Maxwell Demon was an attempt to separate himself from his fame, but it proved to be too much, and I understood why Brian Slade felt like faking his stage persona’s death was the only way out. The artist in him made beautiful music, but he didn’t leave enough of himself to himself.

My Own Private Idaho (1991)

Gus Van Sant’s My Own Private Idaho (1991) is an emotionally charged road trip film about a narcoleptic male prostitute that struggles to find his true home, and it hit me harder than I ever expected. The film revolves around Mike, a poor, lonely and abandoned young man who sells his body to make a living for himself. He suffers from narcolepsy, and this unfortunate condition causes him to be placed in dangerous situations unattended and ultimately, alone. His best friend Scott is also a male prostitute, but unlike Mike, does it to feel alive – his decision to sell his body for money was more of a clap back at his perfect, uptight politician father and perfect, comfortable future. The two become an unlikely pair and go through the motions of the prostitute and criminal life together, and you can’t help but root for the both of them. It’s obvious that Mike and Scott care about each other – they only ever really show kindness to each other, and in a world full of people trying to take advantage of them, they can only really rely on one another. This is more evident for Mike than for Scott, mostly due to his narcolepsy. Whenever he wakes up from an episode, Scott is right there, waiting for him to wake up. The narcoleptic episodes almost become a coping mechanism for Mike, because he conveniently slips into one when he can’t deal with the emotional weight of a situation. They also serve as convenient transitions into the next scene. Because of this, Mike becomes a lot more dependent on Scott. We see this in the way he always looks for him, always wants to do things with him, and can’t really function without him.

I realized that Scott might be the only person that has ever truly shown Mike any sort of kindness. For all his uprooted, floating existence, Mike recognizes an important person when he sees one, and Scott was the one person who fulfilled all the missing roles he ever had in his life – parent, brother, mentor, friend and even lover. The campfire scene where Mike confesses his love to Scott is a warm and tender break from all the violent and sexual events before it. They both reveal aspects of their character that weren’t so obvious – we see that Scott doesn’t actually take this whole prostitution thing seriously, and that he doesn’t believe in homosexuality. Mike on the other hand genuinely loves Scott for who he is, no matter how much people have used him and deprived him of love in his own life. It genuinely pained me to see Scott kind of dismiss Mike’s feelings as if they weren’t as valid just because they didn’t agree with his. We see that maybe their relationship isn’t as genuine from both sides.

The imagery in the film also confirms Mike’s desire for home – the crashing houses, the never-ending roads, the flashbacks to an older woman –these are all part of Mike’s past in some way, and yet he still yearns for it to be part of his future. Despite his efforts to find his mother, fix his relationship with Scott and move away from his trauma, Mike ends up exactly where he started – alone. Scott abandons him and settles for his old life of comfort and security. During the cemetery scene, we see Scott and Mike attending two different funerals, seemingly in two completely different worlds. It proves that they’ll never be like each other, and that maybe they weren’t destined to be part of each other’s lives after all. In the end, Mike is left alone in the middle of a long, unending road and suffers fit of narcolepsy. He almost seems resigned to his fate at this point, as if he knows that he’s stuck in a cycle. My Own Private Idaho is the story of a boy looking for a place to call home, but never truly finds it. Everything around him changes, but he never does.

Futureless Things (2014)

A lesbian couple, a gambler, an out-of-school youth, a mysterious woman with magical powers and a North Korean escapee – these were just some of the characters that built the weird and surreal plot of Kim Kyung-mook’s third feature film, Futureless Things (2014). I was extremely excited to watch this particular movie because of my fascination with Korean culture and media, and I was pleasantly surprised with how different it was compared to the mainstream stuff that I usually consume and enjoy. The humor covers a wide range of blunt to dark to just plain dumb, and it does a great job of making fun of the characters and their issues without reducing them down to their Korean cultural stereotypes. The plot itself is made up of a bunch of subplots that feature different characters that don’t seem to be connected in any way. There is no obvious unified narrative, but that doesn’t stop you from trying to figure out what all the characters – who cross paths in one way or another – have in common. The fact that all the events happen in the same small convenience store immediately set me off trying to find clues that might tie it all up together. Why a convenience store? What was so important about it that the whole movie had to be set there? It was the one question that I couldn’t avoid. Looking back, I realize that the setting of such an ordinary, seemingly boring place where anyone from anywhere could come in was a great way to emphasize the futureless-ness of the individuals in the film. Despite coming from different backgrounds, they all seemed to be pining for one thing, and these things were perfectly common, normal things to desire. That could have been the one unifying factor for all them – the fact that they wanted something better.

The title of the movie itself lends a hand in further understanding the situations of all the characters. While they may not really know each other all that well, they do all work in the same place and have a handful of similar experiences, the main being employees at the convenience store. They don’t really have much of a choice in most cases and are forced to stick with their jobs until further notice. They are stripped of their agency and cannot act nearly as freely as they’d like, making them more akin to being used as “things” instead of actual people. This sad reality is something that most of them seem to have been enduring since before the events of the movie started, and it makes you wonder if it’ll ever be any different. They continue to wish for something better, but the hopelessness of the characters about their own lives and the discontinuity of the subplots seem to point to something futureless instead.

Personally, I’m not a fan of leaving loose ends untied. I don’t like not knowing or having at least a suggestion of what might happen in the end. Futureless Things stays true to its title by leaving its audience completely puzzled as to how and why everything was connected somehow. As much as I tried to find some sort of explanation for all the random people fading into the screen and dancing while flashing creepy smiles at the camera, I really couldn’t figure it out. I guess we’ll never really know what happens to any of them in the future. Maybe they themselves don’t know either.

Trainspotting (1996)

Set in the slums of 90’s Edinburgh, Trainspotting (1996) is Danny Boyle’s portrayal of the addicted lifestyle and the ups and downs that come with it. The colorful and lively backdrop of the big city is strangely apt for this film’s exploration of crime, drug abuse, violence and death. It’s uncomfortable and leaves you with the feeling that it won’t end well, but you stay hooked regardless. Boyle manages take the wide shots, dream-like sequences and awesome soundtrack and make it feel like one long alternative rock music video. I quickly understood why the film is such a cult classic – it speaks to the edgy, dreamy rebellious teen in all of us.

As dark as it is, Boyle manages to inject lighthearted jokes and hilarious scenes that ease audiences’ shock or sadness. Truthfully, it was definitely not comfortable or necessarily easy to watch. There were so many jarring scenes that were difficult to look at and made me want to look away, and for the most part I did. Something about the painful reality of the film was hard to digest, probably because of deadly serious it really can be. The most memorable scene was the death of Allison’s baby. It felt like a huge slap in the face, and I saw the characters feel it too. Apart from the horror that came with recognizing a lost life, I felt a mix of pity and disappointment for the gang, mostly because of how deep into their addiction they really are. I couldn’t believe how quickly they turned back to drugs to numb the pain. It left a sad, bad taste in mouth. It made me want to take a bath right after.

The main character Renton opens and closes the film with the line, “choose life”, and this serves as the main theme for the characters’ individual journeys throughout the film. Renton rides one hell of a rollercoaster while struggling to let go his drug addiction. His friends are no better, and their relationship as a group made me re-evaluate what really constitutes true friendship. Renton, Spud, Sick Boy, Begbie and Tommy all dug holes for themselves and were with each other while they did it. The fact that they were all suffering together offered this sense of community and camaraderie, and they continued to accompany each other in the routine of destroying their lives. The enabled each other, and that was when I realized just how messed up our understanding of friendship and support can be when you’re in a bad place. Doing cool, illegal things together doesn’t make you friends. It makes your life harder. Somewhere along the line I realized that I didn’t actually like the characters or their actions, but I still found myself rooting for them. You see Renton still trying his best to “choose life” by moving away from the druggie lifestyle. His resolve to say goodbye to his abuse, his so-called friends and his unstable life in Edinburgh are something you wish you had, and despite everything he’s done. I didn’t necessarily like Renton, but the fact that he was still alive and capable of making SOME kind of morally charged decisions made me hope for his capacity to grow and move forward.

In the end, we’ll never really know what happens to any of them. We won’t know if Renton will clean up his act. We won’t know if the rest of the boys ever make it out of their own terrible lives. Trainspotting leaves a lot of questions unanswered, but gives us one hell of a ride in the process..

Shin Godzilla (2016)

As Japan’s take on the iconic Hollywood monster, Shin Godzilla (2016) is a sharp and refreshing look at the human experience with disaster. Unlike most Western interpretations (which are the only ones I’ve seen), the film doesn’t focus too much on individuals or details. There are identifiable characters whose actions propel the story, like Deputy Chief Secretary Rando Yaguchi and Presidential enjoy Kayoco Patterson, but I never got the feeling of being invested in either of them as individuals – instead, I recognized them more as parts of the bigger picture.

The Japanese government really was the star of the film. While it had all the typical monster movie characteristics, the main focus was really on political relationships, structures and strategies. I found myself frustrated with painstakingly slow way they had to deal with everything. Buildings were being destroyed and people were being killed in the midst of their arguing and decision-making, and it almost felt like a poke at Japanese beaurocracy and its obsession with tradition and procedure. As upset as I was with how slow the pace of the action was in the beginning, I couldn’t help but feel bad for how the government’s cautious attitude towards deciding ANYTHING was getting in the way of really helping their country. After Japan’s traumatic experiences with natural calamities, nuclear disasters and violence during World War II, I can understand why they would be so adamant about being careful. The Japanese people have been through so much in the last century, and despite their progress and will to move forward from their past, they still fear it. Godzilla itself isn’t a scary monster to behold – it starts off as almost comical-looking and annoying at most. I did not find myself fearing it all, even when he was wreaking havoc and all hope seemed lost. The whole monster aspect of its existence was still there, but it was muted by the actions of the people around it. Godzilla felt more like a problem to fix and less of an evil, unholy creature that had to be destroyed.

One aspect of the plot that I personally loved was Japan’s refusal to be bullied by the U.S. The tension between the two governments felt like a big culture clash, and I found myself rooting for Japan to take the lead and stand their ground when it came to making decisions for their people. It felt like an appropriate response from Japan, and it led to a beautiful, almost magical development and appreciation of Japanese culture. The origami, the language and the shots of the landscapes were featured more toward the end of the film, and it felt almost patriotic to know that the solution lied within Japan all along.

In the end, Shin Godzilla (2016) proved itself to be more than just an action-packed sci-fi explosion parade (although it definitely embodies those qualities too). It felt like I was watching a slow but satisfying real life anime, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I even liked Godzilla itself, from its weird fish baby body to its ultimate death-serving form. Despite the title, I truly feel like the film wasn’t so much about the monster, but about Japan’s capacity to face it.

Schizopolis (1996)

At first glance, Stephen Soderbergh’s Schizopolis (1996) might not seem like the kind of movie most people would enjoy – at least, for the same reason they enjoy your typical blockbuster hit. This wild, experimental satire pushed the limits of what I thought I knew about cinema and how to experience it. While it’s unclear what the film really talks about because of its hilariously obvious lack of a linear plot, it does follow a structure in the form of acts – the whole film is divided up into three main acts that follow the same plot, but through the perspective of three different characters.

The first act looks at the life and experiences of Fletcher Munson, an office employee of the cult-like company called Eventualism who wants to go far with his work. He feels trapped in the everyday routine of his life, and this is seen in the way he fails to pay much attention to and properly communicate with the people around him, including his family. We immediately see the recurring idea of miscommunication in the way both Fletcher and Mrs. Munson resort to generic greetings instead of having an actual conversation. This situation is further aggravated by Fletcher’s decision to take on more work, which eventually leads to Mrs. Munson having an affair with the main character of the next act, Dr. Korchek. His life as a dentist is similar to Fletcher’s in its mundane way, but he seems to enjoy his work and find real pleasure and meaning in it. His communication with Mrs. Munson throughout their affair is clear and comfortable, and they seem to genuinely like each other’s company. This changes, however, when Dr. Korchek falls madly in love with one of his patients and – in true Schizopolis fashion – is shot dead. Lastly, we have the third act focused on Mrs. Munson. Her perspective of the story clarifies many things that seemed weird at the start. She continues to speak in different languages with both the men in her life, anchoring her problem to the overarching theme of miscommunication. She feels unwanted, unheard and mostly unloved, and its painful to see her go from happy to heartbroken to hopeful to resigned all within the span of a couple of minutes. It was the closest thing to real the film ever got, and I appreciated that momentary dip into relatable human emotion and experience. This turned out to be my favorite part of the movie because it confirmed the themes that I had suspected at the start and provided the whole story (or lack thereof) with some kind of resolution. There are other aspects of the film that confused me, like the disturbing subplots of Nameless Numberhead Man and Elmo. They were welcome comedic breaks, and while it initially led me to believe that they were going to be irrelevant parts to the main story, I was pleasantly surprised to be proved otherwise.

This was the first time I had ever watched a movie of this nature, and while I didn’t completely understand it, I still enjoyed it nonetheless. I appreciate how it managed to poke fun at itself and how weird and nonsensical it truly is. I realized that a movie doesn’t have to make sense for it to be likeable and enjoyable, and Schizopolis definitely lived up to that.