I never would have thought I’d love Battle Royale as much as I did. It’s hip, it’s Asian and it’s bloody. Not that I don’t like Bloody Asian Hippies, it’s just not what I regularly watch. It’s a film that in many ways, reminds me of the frantic anarchy of Inland Empire. I felt somehow I was in my nightmares (no doubt, the characters felt similarly) and amidst the wild entertainment I was battling with how I myself would handle a similar situation. I quickly came to the conclusion that I had no hope of survival and would be best to jump off a cliff (although, I doubt I would be able to even do that, I’d still somehow have the hope that I would by some miracle survive despite myself). It’s also a film that reminds me so much of my high school experiences, not that they were nearly as terrible as this, but the fears, the interrelations and the unexpected cruelty are all too real. It’s almost an all too easy metaphor, as high school is too often about the survival of the fittest, and resembles more of a jungle of wild, ravenous animals than an institution populated with students ready and eager to learn.

Has a dystopian vision of the future ever been so bleak (despite the presence of more than a few laugh out loud funny gags)? Even crueller than Children of Men we have a society that sacrifices it’s young for entertainment in a futile attempt to weed out the strongest and best equipped for society. Throw in one maniac, who enjoys senseless murder and the mantra that life is but a game reaches epic and ridiculous proportions. Is life a game? It’s clearly nothing like chess, where reasoning and foresight are essential… is living really like Battle Royale? A survival of the cruellest and the most devious, with a whole lot of luck put into the mix? Perhaps it is. I myself have encountered far too much senseless violence and cruelty to believe that life is pure, and fair. It isn’t. The film points at hope though, in our protagonists Noriko and Nanahara we find virtues that make their survival possible. Their love, their trust, and their unwillingness to “play” the game. Again though, other characters exhibit these qualities but are not as lucky. It’s not always enough to save yourself. Even if life isn’t a game, it is cruel and it is difficult.

In most of the characters and situations we can find archetypical interactions. However, they play out beautifully as Kinji Fukasaku allows them to unfold at their own pace, and channelling into characters emotions and motives we get a clear picture of why they react. There is nothing senseless, thoughtless or predictable in the film’s unfolding. To keep this all in balance, humour is strategically interjected so as not to drop too far into melodrama and beyond the audience’s capacity of suspended disbelief. We recognize in the characters ourselves, as well as the people we know. While the situations can’t possibly match exactly our own existence they are precise and vague enough to remind us that we all have had experiences that have shaped who we are, and that nothing is truly black and white.

The two stories that stand out for me the most are Teacher Kitano’s and Mitsuko. These are the type of people I tend to hate in the real world, they are sadists, cruel, passive aggressive, and angry. Even in the film, both go through extraordinary steps to crush the people around them for similar motives. Kitano is tired, he’s tired of being pushed around, mocked and held back. Nobody likes him, and he likes nobody. This is his chance to exact revenge and he does. He makes a joke of it, finally laughing back in their faces. Mitsuko is similarly frustrated with her existence, and the hatred she inspires. However, she is determined to survive and to show the world she is not a loser and never will be. When she says “What’s wrong with killing? Everyone’s got their reasons”, I can’t help shuddering. It’s a stark and clinical statement that not only permeates the whole film, but encompasses so much of the human experience. It doesn’t justify her actions, or any actions… but it does make one think. It’s her flashback that gets me though. It’s almost out of nowhere, and it’s uncomfortable and painful. I don’t want to go into it because it’s spoilertastic, but if you’ve seen it you know what I’m talking about. Again the theme of youth is brought up, as we see a world that is afraid and careless about it’s future. “Children are our future” is not the moral of this story, as the adult world seems to believe they will be it’s downfall. I don’t think anything in this film justifies this belief, even in the cold blooded murders. Kitano is far worse than any of the students, as he has been bittered by the sterile society that has entrapped him. As I said though, he fascinates me as well. His obsession with Noriko is puzzling and I don’t truly understand it even now (even as the only person that shows him respect, it’s uneasy). It’s the dream/flashback that bothers me the most though, like Mitsuko’s it’s almost out of place (although perfectly so, I wouldn’t have the film without it), and it truly disturbs me. It’s probably the most important scene though, revealing the film’s central themes and messages about youth and survival.

This is the exchange that goes on,

Teacher Kitano: Are my classes boring?

Noriko Nakagawa: Yes.

Teacher Kitano: How dare you!

Noriko Nakagawa: [chuckles]

Teacher Kitano: I go into class, you guys look like a pile of potatoes. Slapping them around helped me tell them apart, even got to like them. But now not anymore. Now you touch a student, you’re fired. Can’t even lose it when a student stabs you!

Noriko Nakagawa: I’ll tell you just one thing.

Teacher Kitano: What?

Noriko Nakagawa: That knife that stabbed you… actually I keep it in my desk at home. When I picked it up, I wasn’t sure… but now, for some reason, I really treasure it. It’s our secret, okay? Just between us.

Teacher Kitano: Listen, Nakagawa.

Noriko Nakagawa: Yes?

Teacher Kitano: What do you think a grown-up should say to a kid now?

This film that feels so centered on youth may very well be about the adults and their malaise. There is no doubt, even in Japan culture is youth obsessed. Throw in social unrest and difficulties, there is a misplacement of emotion and confusion to one’s place in such a society. As the concept of the adolescent is relatively new (emerging as something of a post WW2 phenomena) the acknowledged difference between generations is wider than ever. We don’t know our place, and we don’t know how to breach this gap. This film is about this struggle, and these fears. What happens when the students and children no longer fear and respect the adults? When youth becomes the most prized “virtue” someone can possess? On the other hand, what happens when youth becomes a commodity. Something beyond life, but a source of carnal entertainment, nothing more than an object or doll. Battle Royale asks these questions in it’s own subversive way. It’s a film I crave to see again, while I can’t help cringing to think of how the action unfolds. It’s a film that works as pure entertainment but also challenges the viewer emotionally and intellectually. It’s clearly not for everyone, but well worth seeking out if you are curious.

 

Few directors have had as much critical (however posthumously), and financial success as Alfred Hitchcock. With over 60 film credits to his name, many of his films never fail to top favourite and consensus lists, while even some of his lesser known and appreciated work like I Confess (1953) and the Birds (1963) are heralded as masterpieces by niche communities (in this case Les Cahiers du Cinema, and the critical French community). With so many great films, for most of us it’s difficult to choose a clear cut favourite, and while Hitchcock himself lists Shadow of a Doubt as his favourite of his own work, I have no doubt this was tentative and conditional to mood.

The film is (arguably) the most noir of Hitchcock’s efforts, although it doesn’t quite fit into the genre. As with most of his work, he balances his dark sense of humour with the genuine thrills and the final product is an astonishing and thrilling portrait of the horror that lies in small town life. Uncle Charlie is more than a murderor as he represents everything that small towns feared in war stricken America. There is little hint a war is going on, except we know that Charlie is a veteran somehow and a brief interlude in a “seedy” bar that’s populated with drunk and virile soldiers. This is our first encounter with a darker side of the town that we were previously were unaware even existed. Uncle Charlie drags his niece inside despite her insistance that she would never go into a place like that, and it’s in this scene that we are truly sure of Uncle Charlie’s identity. He represents the cynisism of the city and the veteran that the towns people so fear, and yet they idolize him and ignore the depracity that’s just around the corner.

In Young Charlie we find a heroine unlike any other in a Hitchcock film, Theresa Wright doesn’t even look the part of the icy, sophisticated woman. Rumour was though, that initially Hitchcock wanted Fontaine for the role to reprise her nervous incarnation of conflicted young woman. I’m happy things didn’t work out. Wright brings the necessary confidance to the role that was needed to better parallel her character with her uncle. They are supposed to be similar, and that means she had to be strong (this also serves as an important contrast though, as she is stronger than her Uncle in that she can look past the ugliness of the world, and appreciate what makes it wonderful). It makes her confrontations with her uncle all the more tense, as we know how strong she is, inside and out, and to see her voice waver and tremble as she tries to match her Uncle’s threats would not have had the same impact had she been a more feeble character.

Having seen this rather recently, and for the third or fourth time I truly had a chance to appreciate Hitchcock’s subtle but powerful use of mise-en-scene and cinematography. The camera is in almost constant movement as it swerves around corners and tracks down streets. I had never noticed it before, but it really works to create a sense of anxiety and restlessness that’s so important to the mood of the film, and Uncle Charlie’s character and influence.

 

I don’t think there is anyone to blame in the Virgin Suicides. Not the girls, not their parents, not Trip or any of the other boys. Coppola never tries to put blame, she never tries to sensationalize (although there is no doubt the media does). The reason is essentially unimportant, as it’s the idea of the Lisbon girls and the imaginary world of adolescence that sustains and drives the film. Like most of Coppola’s work, the film is driven my mood and atmosphere rather than plot or character, and in the end the film feels more like a dream than a true account of a tragedy that strikes a small town, which is exactly what it should be.

Most films about adolescence have little appeal to me, not only because they fail to capture my own emotions and lack the self conscious realization that so much of this period of our lives lies in the mind. There is no sense of fantasy and, even in the films that set out to show the “truth” fall short because they forget the magic (the only other film that comes close in my mind is Fast Times at Ridgemont High). The boys fascination with the Lisbon girls is immortalized by their suicide. Like many cult heroes of today (namely James Dean), they are preserved forever in a youthful, idealized state. They are the image of innocence and youth, and in this they lose their sense of humanity. Reflecting over the film, the only daughter who stands out is Lux. The others symbolically, are almost nameless and shadows… while Lux is beyond human. She is the image of beauty, youth and passion; she’s every boy’s dream girl. She’s not robbed of emotion, but she is robbed of personality and true distinction.

While, perhaps, the direction of the film is not as confidant as Coppola’s later efforts it still stands out as ambitious and understanding of the subject matter. The film falls together so beautifully because of her sense of fantasy. The most memorable images of the film are like commercials, or fashion shoots. They’re often shot in slow motion and are repeated as motifs. They exist only in the minds of the boys who are recounting the story, a reminder that the film is not to be taken at face value, as it’s an impression of adolescence not a true account. Coppola even treats the tragedy with an air of indifference, while events like Lux waking up alone in the football field are dealt with more significant emotional potency. The last half hour, once the girl’s have been locked away, I think we drift fully into the minds of the boys. Here events are muddled and speculative, even their supposed involvement in the suicide, is in my esteem a far cry from what really happened; it’s a further perpetuation of the mythology of the girls.

 

For those old geezers among you who remember my first RT list which was a list of my 100 favourite films, and even remember my long and drawn out second incarnation that came one year later, I hope this list is not a complete bore. If it is, you have to tell me and I’ll add strippers and pass out drugs to trick you into believing it’s a whole lot better than it is.

I think the argument could be made that my yearly need to “present” my favourite films is an act of supreme vanity. At least I think it is. It’s not so much a need for approval or even attention, but rather a need on my part to archive ideas and thoughts of a moment in time so that perhaps one day I can look back at them to see how much I’ve changed, or haven’t changed. Even looking back a year I barely reckonize the person who made up that list. The films feel right, but the voice is unfamiliar. I wonder if I’ve just become more comfortable and clearer with my thoughts, or that I am not who I was. It’s strange that something as trivial as a list of my favourite films can be a measure of who I am at a given time…

When forming this list I debated pulling a Metalhead and not putting them in order. In the end, it’s a better motivation for me to work from a list, and also feels more definite. Maybe, assuming I’m still around, next year I’ll re-do this once again with a completely different approach. Until then you’re stuck with the tired and true formula I’ve already established.

As readers I don’t want to have ask anything of you, I don’t even ask you to enjoy because that would be too much of an imposition considering the lameness/tedium of my writing at times. If you are feeling so generous, I always welcome discussion and recommendations. My list has changed so much over the years because of the posters here, and what they’ve opened my eyes too, and I think as long as that continues I’ll have a place here.

So let’s begin!

You may know me from my blog Beyond the Valley of the Cinephiles or as a collaborator on Chicks on Fire. As every year since 2005 I’ve compilled a list of my favourite films, I don’t see how this is any different. Using the wonderful blog technology, I’ve decided instead of cluttering my own blog with entries that I would create a new one for my list, and here it is!

At the top of the page you will see two pages, 2005 & 2006. Those are my previous two lists if you are interested. As can be expected there are many changes from year one to year two, as well as many things that have stayed the same. This year I have been exposed to so much new cinema I would have never seen before thanks to my many film classes at school. I’ve evolved as both a human being and as  writer. The list will start near the beginning of November, and I will post an intro on BTVOTC.

These lists of course just reflect my personal taste at a given time, and for the most part are on the arbitrary side. #77 is not going to be much better or any better at all than #83 really. It’s just a fun way to re-evalute my likes and dislikes at a given time.