Tag Archives: Romance

APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: ADOLESCENCE OF UTENA (1999)

Shôjo kakumei Utena: Adolescence mokushiroku (Revolutionary Girl Utena: Adolescence Apocalypse); AKA Revolutionary Girl Utena: The Movie

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DIRECTED BY: Kunihiko Ikuhara

FEATURING THE VOICES OF: Tomoko Kawakami, Yuriko Fuchizaki, Takehito Koyasu; , Sharon Becker, (English dub)

PLOT: Newly arrived at school, Utena finds herself in a duel for the freedom of the beautiful and mysterious Anthy, and must fend off multiple challengers while navigating her new-found betrothal.

WHY IT MIGHT MAKE THE APOCRYPHA: For an ostensible transfer of a popular TV series to the big screen, Adolescence of Utena delights not only in jettisoning any obeisance to its source material, but moves in strange and unpredictable directions. Whenever you think you’ve got Utena’s number, you definitely don’t, right up to its outrageous conclusion.

Still from Adolescence of Utena (1999)

COMMENTS: The first moments of this big-screen successor to the popular manga and TV series “Revolutionary Girl Utena” suggest a fish-out-of-water story, as the impossibly wide-eyed title character is led on a tour of the architectural wonder and human-interaction Petri dish that is the Ohtori Academy. Who will she meet? What will she learn? Who will become friends and enemies? A classic shōjo manga in the making. And as soon as those moments end, you can forget all about them, because Utena’s encounter with the cheekily devoted Anthy will shortly become the only thing of importance.

The two girls have an unusual meet-cute, with Utena wandering onto a flower-festooned platform and inadvertently instigating a duel for the rights to Anthy’s hand. It turns out this kind of  accidental heroism happens to Utena a lot; for such a powerful champion, Utena is remarkably unsure of herself. We soon learn why, but the careful crafting of her character lends great potency to her developing relationship with Anthy, empowering what could easily be reduced to cliché. A scene in which the two girls have to create life-drawings of each other, far from feeling obvious or superfluous, develops real romantic power.

All of this takes place in a lush and fantastic design that adds another layer of surrealism and wonder. The school is a wild mashup of Roman architecture and civic planning by M. C. Escher. Places and people are all decked out in a wild palette of colors, with heightened military costumes complemented by crazily flowing hairstyles of pink, magenta, and green. Director Ikuhara supplements these visions with intriguing abstractions, like the radio hosts who only appear in silhouette. Even when the plot and backstory become too dense to be certain you’re following, the visuals are never less than striking, often gasp-inducing.

Adolescence of Utena is already unusual, but the final third raises the bar significantly as our heroine begins to suspect that the universe is hiding a fundamental truth about its nature. She’s right, in a way that rhymes thematically with fellow 1999 release The Matrix; but where ’ Neo had to be flushed out of a simulation to find clarity, Utena makes her escape by turning into a uterus-shaped hot rod and doing battle with a city-sized monster car. It’s a remarkable visual, and it’s hard to undersell the surprise generated by the pivot the movie takes at this juncture. The film’s final image, with the two lead characters in a nude embrace and riding their sex luge into the horizon, is a fitting denouement for a film that has committed fully to following its own path.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…for fear of spoiling the most wild moment in a film made up of wild moments, I would be very reluctant to say what happens in the film around the 65-minute mark, except in general terms, but it is both the most intensely, if fuzzily, symbolic event in the film, involving an extraordinary physical transformation that allows the full scope of Utena’s revolutionary potental to express itself… When it gets to the actual visionary moments, where Utena starts to perceive the greater world than just herself (and this is, basically, the arc of the plot: it’s a coming-of-age story, though one that has been buried deep below the expressive dream imagery), it turns into full-on surrealist explosions of roses, clouds, spaces defined purely in terms of line and shape with no sense of what kind of space they are, though they come across as fundamentally Gothic in their ancient weight and richness.”–Tim Brayton, Alternate Ending

“A film of absolute beauty, it’s also the weirdest thing I have ever seen. Now that’s a pretty big statement, but I’ve racked my brain, and I can’t think of anything weirder… Yes it’s weird, but all of that weirdness is in the form of metaphor, allusion, and illusion.” – Stephen Porter, Silver Emulsion

(This movie was nominated for review by Jenn. Suggest a weird movie of your own here.) 

CAPSULE: DANIELA FOREVER (2024)

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DIRECTED BY:

FEATURING: Henry Golding, Beatrice Grannò, , Nathalie Poza

PLOT: A man enters a secret trial for a drug that exponentially enhances lucid dreaming, but instead of following instructions, he brings his dead girlfriend to life in a dream world.

Still from DANIELA FOREVER (2024)

COMMENTS: Modern mystic Alan Watts once delivered a lecture (which became the basis for an indie movie reviewed here) that suggested that if we could achieve our every desire through lucid dreaming, we would eventually become bored with omnipotence and return to the exact waking reality we once fled. Daniela Forever‘s Nicolás is determined to test that theory. After his girlfriend dies in a freak accident (for which he irrationally blames himself), all he wants is to live a simple life with Daniela alive and back in his apartment, forever. A lucid dreaming clinical trial gives him the opportunity to create that fantasy in a simulated world where he has almost total control over every aspect of reality, from the position of the sun to Daniela’s every mood, along with the ability to pause, rewind, and restart the flow of time. As he gains more and more facility with the process, he finds himself able to expand his dream-world from his cozy apartment to encompass most of Madrid (although he can’t create areas he’s never seen in waking reality, which show up in the dream as undulating grey walls). But he becomes surprised when Daniela suddenly appears to be developing free will and having thoughts of her own he didn’t place there. Meanwhile, the story moves forward in the waking world, where Nicolás deceives his clinical overseers about his real intentions, creating fake reports about assignments he is ignoring. How long can he keep it up?

While the dream-world is vibrant widescreen, Nicolás‘ everyday reality is shot in dingy, washed-out color (filmed in Betamax, to wit), and presented in a cramped, perfectly square aspect ratio. Distinguishing dreams from reality is thus not an issue for the viewer, at least not in the movie’s first two acts. While the film features some visual experimentation—mostly glitches like improper lighting schemes and stuttering, which are explicitly pointed out by the characters—there is no dream logic to the story. It all plays out instead with speculative realism. There is an interesting motif that shows up in Daniela’s artwork, however, where shadows skew in impossible directions: perhaps a nod to Last Year at Marienbad, that dreamlike smudge of a story in which a man and a woman’s memories of their relationship never match up. That suggestion may point towards the film’s weirder aspirations, and in the third act, Nicolás finds a way to boostrap the dream world, leading to unpredictable results, dreams bleeding into reality, and flirtation with meatier psychological thriller territory.

The creative scenario is rife with intellectual implications. Ethical questions proliferate in both the real and dream worlds. Nicolás‘ godlike abilities create one set of conflicts; his romantic fixation creates another. His dreambuilding also mirrors the evolution of a relationship, beginning in an infatuation stage where the lovers seem mystically simpatico in their mutual desires, but gradually revealing a frustrating separateness that undermines the utopian illusion.

What’s good about Daniela Forever is its thought-provoking premise. The execution, however, does not always match the conception. The pacing is a bit off; although it gets to the point quickly, it may spend a bit too much time locked in that apartment in repetitive scenarios of self-indulgent domestic bliss. I was surprised to read critical praise for Henry Golding’s performance; I found him almost unbearably bland and difficult to sympathize with—or to figure out what Daniela saw in him in the first place. The ending also feels emotionally forced, for reasons that unfortunately can’t be disclosed without spoilers. Of course, none of these small complaints kill Daniela Forever; they just hold it back from rising to the heights of such forebears as Open Your Eyes and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, which would be lofty company indeed.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Vigalondo never really taps into the full potential for whimsy or surrealism that the lucid dream scenario offers, while also keeping the film’s principal characters frustratingly one-dimensional.”–Josh Goller, Spectrum Culture (contemporaneous)

CAPSULE: QUEER (2024)

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DIRECTED BY:

FEATURING: , Drew Starkey, ,

PLOT: The arrival of an enigmatic young man in 1950s Mexico City disrupts William Lee’s dissolute routine with the promise of companionship.

COMMENTSQueer begins with a character sketch in the opening credits. Static shots of a small apartment reveal a cheap mattress, and a series of things—the first being a scuttling centipede. There are rumpled blankets, pairs of glasses, cigarettes (both stubbed-out and fresh), books, a passport and visa, a camera, a ViewMaster, and an array of pistols. Seven of them, to be precise, all nicely arranged. By the end of the opening credits, you know the character pretty well, even if you’re unfamiliar both with the author William Lee facsimulates, and the book the movie is based upon.

William Lee is an obviously intelligent but woefully uncharismatic fellow approaching or already in middle age. He has difficulty keeping still, and the camera mimics his erratic physicality by cutting from micro-shot to micro-shot as the protagonist bumps through his alcohol-fueled days and nights. It’s hot, and we can feel it alongside the array of gringos who’ve set up a little gay community in a borough of Mexico City that seems comprised exclusively of cheap bars, cheaper apartments, and by-the-hour hotels. We are there, with Lee, and can feel him either about to crack from his own tension or melt away into a puddle of boozy-Beatnik soup.

Queer, the film, has two halves: the first is a (very) awkward romance of sorts, wherein Daniel Craig’s Lee clumsily attempts to woo a young cypher named Eugene. We never learn too much about the guy, which is apt, in that one of the few things we do learn concerns his involvement with army intelligence during World War Two—and the staggering amount of lies he was tasked with sifting through. The second half involves a desperate Lee seeking an ancient drug in the Ecuadorian jungle to overcome his communication deficits, having—despite his self-perceived lack of persuasive powers—convinced Eugene to be his semi-paid companion. Surrealistic touches season the goings-on: disorienting flares of television static; a giant Lee looking in on a tiny Lee through a mock-up of an apartment building within his apartment room; and even a jaunt to see Cocteau’s Orpheus.

Guadagnino confronts the challenge of translating an incomplete Burroughs novel for the screen, and acquits himself well. I’m inclined to be forgiving toward the movie, as adapting any of Burroughs’ word-bursts (be they novels, anecdotes, memoirs, or otherwise) into semi-coherent narratives requires making difficult choices. Craig is a delight as the author, Starkey maintains a tight balance of charm and impenetrability, and Guadagnino keeps the look and feel on course even as the subject matter becomes increasingly slippery. With unrequited love (but plenty of sex), gallons of sweat (despite chills from junk withdrawal), and a time-bending soundtrack, Queer is an pleasing experience, even as it often crossed my mind that a man this addled shouldn’t be carrying around any firearms—much less seven of them.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Kuritzkes and Guadagnino diverge from their source material in making Lee’s quest for psychedelic fulfillment successful. Queer has a vein of David Lynchian surrealism (RIP) that starts with the inky, oil-painting cinematography of the nocturnal Mexico City scenes and grows more pronounced in the third act, when Lesley Manville does a darkly hilarious turn as a botanist living deep in the jungle. Without spoiling: Things get weird.”–Margot Harrison, Seven Days (VT)

Queer [Blu-ray]
  • Daniel Craig
  • Drew Starkey
  • Jason Schwartzman
  • Lesley Manville
  • Luca Guadagnino