GOTHAM KNIGHT
(Review)

So, despite my initial less-than-ecstatic reaction to Gotham Knight, further exacerbated by my full-on amazement with The Dark Knight (see review in Archive), I decided to give the anime anthology film tie-in a second look, and here’s what I discovered.
It really doesn’t get any better the second time around.


Gotham Knight is a straight-to-DVD tie-in to The Dark Knight, which takes a page from The Animatrix and assembles six animated vignettes that have some connective tissue between each other, as well as with The Dark Knight.
Naturally, Batman appears, but we also get glimpses of supporting characters like Alfred, Lt. Gordon, and Lucius Fox, as well as appearances from MCU copper Anna Ramirez and gangster Salvatore Maroni (played by Monique Curnen and Eric Roberts in The Dark Knight).
Given the ostensible continuity amongst the vignettes (running approximately 12 minutes each), all six stories are by Christopher Nolan collaborator Jordan Goldberg, their screenplays written by a handful of comic book scribes and Hollywood screenwriters. (Goldberg wrote the screenplay for one vignette, “Field Test.”)


Sadly, it’s perhaps because all half dozen stories were conceptualized by one individual, that Gotham Knight doesn’t have the same level of blazing imagination so evident in The Animatrix.
While that DVD tie-in put the Matrix sequels to shame with its unbridled and multi-faceted exploration of the Wachowskis’ construct, Gotham Knight comes nowhere near the complex, brooding majesty of The Dark Knight.
It’s also a curious thing that Gotham Knight doesn’t sport the voice talents of The Dark Knight cast. Instead, we have the long-time voice of the animated Batman, Kevin Conroy, and NCIS’ David McCallum as Alfred, among others.
And though Conroy’s vocal interpretation of the Batman arguably displays a much more pleasing aesthetic than Christian Bale’s guttural growl, I’d have still preferred to hear the film’s cast in this particular case.
It is a tie-in, isn’t it?

Thankfully, I can at least say I was impressed by the fifth and sixth vignettes, Toshiyuki Kubooka’s “Working Through Pain” (which gives us a poignant glimpse of the pain that is at the core of Bruce Wayne) and Madhouse’s “Deadshot” (which pits the Bat against crack assassin, Floyd Lawton, a.k.a. Deadshot).
Aside from this pair of exceptional entries though, the rest of Gotham Knight is a disappointing mish-mash. Admittedly, there is some good animation in there, and the varied character interpretations are interesting, but the majority of Gotham Knight just doesn’t fully engage.
Particularly aggravating is Yasuhiro Aoki’s “In Darkness Dwells,” which is, visually, one of the strongest pieces, though it’s hampered by a negligible story involving the Scarecrow and Killer Croc.

Now, as much as I found 66% of Gotham Knight a frustrating disappointment, you could opt to pick up the 2-disc edition, which includes, amidst a load of extras, four episodes from Batman: The Animated Series.
With a longer total running time than Gotham Knight, these episodes include the excellent “Legends of the Dark Knight,” which uses a similar structure to Gotham Knight’s “Have I Got a Story for You,” to much better and more entertaining effect.
(Wonder Woman fans will also want to check out the 10-minute plus peek at the upcoming animated Wonder Woman, where Keri Russell, Virginia Madsen, and Rosario Dawson all get to do the Amazon thing, with Nathan Fillion and Alfred Molina along for the ride.)


Parting shot: The Gotham Knight vignettes are as follows:

“Have I Got a Story for You”: directed by Shojiro Nishimi, story by Jordan Goldberg, screenplay by Josh Olson

“Crossfire”: directed by Futoshi Higashide, story by Jordan Goldberg, screenplay by Greg Rucka

“Field Test”: directed by Hiroshi Morioka Tsubasa, story and screenplay by Jordan Goldberg

“In Darkness Dwells”: directed by Yasuhiro Aoki, story by Jordan Goldberg, screenplay by David Goyer

“Working Through Pain”: directed by Toshiyuki Kubooka, story by Jordan Goldberg, screenplay by Brian Azzarello

“Deadshot”: animation produced by Madhouse, story by Jordan Goldberg, screenplay by Alan Burnett

(Gotham Knight 2-disc edition DVD cover art courtesy of aintitcool.com; images courtesy of aintitcool.com, twitchfilm.net, and batmangothamknight.com.)

SPEED RACER
(Review)

For the purposes of placing this review in a larger context…

My Cinematic History with the Wachowskis:
When Bound was released, I found it to be an agreeable, if not necessarily mind-blowing piece of entertainment. Beyond the lesbian twist, it didn’t really leave me with anything particularly fresh and rave-worthy.
So when news first surfaced of their next project, some sci-fi vehicle with Keanu in it, I was curious in that I wanted to see whether the brothers could handle science fiction, given that Bound wasn’t anywhere near that sort of territory.
It was in that neutral air of close-to-zero expectation that The Matrix blasted against my retinas and imprinted itself on my completely flabbergasted cortex.
It wasn’t perfect, but this was clearly something vital and new, blowing wide the gates of the film medium, even as the third millennium rapidly approached.
Fittingly enough, The Matrix proved to be a harbinger for post-millennial cinema, single-handedly establishing the new action film paradigm (ironically enough, by co-opting and sprucing up wire fu, which had already been going on for decades while the mainstream pointedly looked elsewhere).
As impressed as I was with The Matrix though, the Wachowskis were still on my probation list. I wanted them to kick my a$$ with a film that was removed from The Matrix, something low-key maybe.
Of course, they opted to return with the Matrix sequels, films I felt weren’t particularly needed. The Matrix was one of those very singular films that should have been left standing alone.
And when 2003 came around and Reloaded and Revolutions hit the screens within six months of each other, the whole bullet train completely derailed. (I am extremely grateful we had The Animatrix that same year, which thankfully more than negated the very bad taste the sequels left in me…)
Not only did the sequels suffer under the terrible weight of expectation, but the Wachowskis seemed to have approached the entire enterprise from the wrong angle. Sick to death of The Matrix’s bullet-time having been appropriated and parodied by all and sundry, they conceived of effects sequences so complex, no one could copy them.
That just seemed arrogant and presumptious. And the philobabble just got a bit much…
So I was back to waiting. Waiting for the Wachowskis to kick my a$$ all over again.

And they’ve done it.

With Speed Racer.

The titular hero (played with an earnest sense of idealistic confidence by Emile Hirsch) is a young man who lives for the rush, who can’t really slow down. There, behind the wheel, careening down the race track at improbable velocities, is one of the few places Speed feels at home.
He knows, deep in his heart, in the very fibre of his being, that this is not just the only thing he knows how to do, but also, the principal thing he was meant to do.
And though he has an amazing support system in his extended family (which includes his girlfriend Trixie, played by Christina Ricci), Speed also has some ghosts he must come to terms with, in particular, the disgrace and apparent subsequent death of his older brother Rex (Friday Night Lights’ Scott Porter).
Rex is the brother he idolized, the brother who taught him everything, who taught him to listen, to understand and acknowledge that a car isn’t just metal and oil, but rather, a living, breathing organism.
And here, in the coming-of-age adventure that we see play out in Speed Racer, young Speed is about to discover why Rex came to that tragic end, and the terrible darkness that lies at the heart of the World Racing League, and the sport he so dearly loves.

Beyond the kaleidoscopic, day-glo aesthetic of this hyper-real, hyper-kinetic world, what most strikes me about Speed Racer is the fact that there is some genuine emotion that underpins the astounding visual flourishes.
From the strong filial bonds on display (helped along tremendously by the performances of senior cast members, Susan Sarandon and John Goodman, as Mom and Pops Racer); the obvious hero worship Speed still holds for his brother; the brooding, tragic, and tangibly physical presence of Racer X (a terrific and terribly effective Matthew Fox); and the struggle young Speed experiences in trying to keep his idealism intact in the crushing, cruel face of high-stakes business, Speed Racer certainly has a heart that beats with a genuine rhythm, a humanizing counterpoint to the adrenalized, pedal-to-the-metal action.
For every neon-laced, anime-inspired set piece, there’s a small character moment that balances it out, and somehow, the Wachowskis manage to pace all of the film’s bits in such a way that a 2 hour 15 minute running time feels far less. (There were honestly only a couple of sections where a minute, perhaps even half, could have been shaved off each, to make the goofy goings-on a tad less strained. Unlike last year’s Transformers or Spider-Man 3, where the kiddy bits were simultaneously condescending, atrocious, and horribly frivolous padding.)
It zips by, this one. But not without leaving its marks. Much like the squiggly trails of coloured light scrawled on the air by the whizzing racing cars during the Maltese Ice Caves sequence, Speed Racer leaves after-images in its wake, both visual and emotional.

As clearly bowled over as I am with it though, I will admit, this isn’t for everyone.
Some will see the frenetic racing sequences and quickly switch off, under the mistaken belief that all Speed Racer is is high velocity eye candy devoid of any genuine human warmth.
Speed Racer also isn’t really built for extremely young kids. (Thus, the PG rating, as some of the young 'uns may need older family members to patiently explain odd bits here and there.) The first protracted racing sequence alone, which shifts the narrative back and forth from the present, to different sections of the past (much as a speeding car rapidly shifts its gears), may lose some of the less-attentive of the kiddie brigade in its non-linear, top-heavy exposition.
I, for one, loved this sequence, enthralled by the poignant idea of “race track as continuum,” capped off by Speed racing the phantom of Rex to the finish line. But then again, that’s just me.
The final moments of the climactic race are also executed via a device that is so tried-and-tested, it’s cliché. Somehow though, the Wachowskis pull it off, orchestrating the emotions the film’s narrative engine runs on to a tee.
And to leave us with the thought that anything—no matter how seemingly trivial—can be an art; that money does not have to—and more importantly, should not—be at the heart of everything; that a cohesive family unit is key; and that it isn’t really about what you can do, but how you can do good while doing what you do, that matters…
Certainly all that must count for something.

At this point, I’d like to underscore the fact that I’ve never really been a fan of Tatsuo Yoshida’s original animated Mach Go Go Go (Speed Racer in its American incarnation). I’ve seen snippets of some episodes of course, just enough to know that the tone of the series wasn’t really for me.
Despite never having gotten into it though, I was aware of the characters—Chim-Chim, Racer X, Trixie, et al—and their basic relationships with each other; I was aware of the visual signatures; I was aware of the song.*
So I really had no vested interest in whether the film would be any good, beyond the fact that I was hoping it could redeem the Wachowskis in my eyes.
I’m so glad it did. I’m thrilled that the Wachowskis could give a non-fan like myself a grand, rousing time at the cinema.
I’m glad that they could give me a film that has decidedly more humanity than The Matrix, that has a readily apparent soul that informs the technical and visual virtuosity that they are so clearly wizards of.
And I’m glad they proved they hadn’t completely lost their game.

Set in a world that is arguably more visually vibrant and stimulating than the Matrix, Speed Racer is a cinematic experience that fires on all of its cylinders, more than making up for the Matrix sequels.
It may not end up as seismic a pop culture event as The Matrix was, and it may not be the low-key piece I was looking for, but it certainly showcases the Wachowskis’ visual strengths in a package infused with humour, warmth, and emotion.
And granted, it isn’t for everyone, but for those of you who dig stylized storytelling, who can appreciate the paradox of obvious artifice and earnest emotion playing off each other and fusing under the elusive alchemy of skilled filmmaking, I think Speed Racer’s just the ride for you.

* Dang, the film version of the theme song (by Ali Dee and the Deekompressors) is a particularly dangerous—and terribly fun—meme…

(Speed Racer OS’s courtesy of impawards.com [design by Concept Arts]; images courtesy of speedracerthemovie.warnerbros.com.)

VEXILLE – 2077 NIPPON SAKOKU
(THE ISOLATION OF JAPAN)
(Review)

The year is 2077, and it’s been a decade since Japan’s decision to refuse regulation of their robotics technology, precipitating the country’s withdrawal from the U.N. and the rest of the world. But the manoeuvres of Daiwa Heavy Industries, Japan’s leading megacorp, will cause a squad of S.W.O.R.D. operatives led by Commander Leon Fayden (Shosuke Tanihara, from Takashi Miike’s Gokudo Sengokushi: Fudo) to infiltrate Japanese territory to discover exactly what has been taking place within their borders.
This is the basic premise of Vexille – 2077 Nippon Sakoku, and it turns out to be a solid exercise in scifi anime.

Granted, personality is scarce, particularly from title character Vexille (Meisa Kuroki; Chakushin Ari Final), who is little more than a cipher, and Leon, who is arguably, even less.
But this is, after all, the kind of anime where all the characters really need to do is look cool, while most of the heavy lifting is done by the high-flown scifi concepts and the visuals.
It’s to Vexille’s credit though, that an intriguing layer of humanity is injected into the plot when the current situation in Tokyo is revealed. That pocket of emotion proves enough to both fuel the narrative and balance the excellent, adrenaline-laced action. (And even when the emotional blackmail bomb—which you just know will eventually be deployed—goes off, it still bloody works.)
The presence of music tracks by the likes of The Prodigy, Underworld, DJ Shadow, and Dead Can Dance, as well as soundtrack supervisor DJ Paul Oakenfold, also manage to spike the proceedings nicely.

Armed with a great Death Star trench-inspired sequence and curious echoes of Dune and Blade Runner, Vexille is brought to us by Fumihiko Sori (Ping Pong), who was on the visual effects team of James Cameron’s Titanic (working on CG characters), and acted as producer and visual effects director on 2004’s Appleseed.
Co-writing the script with Haruka Handa, Sori manages to explore the dire consequences of a monopoly of power, and how true immortality can be found in the legacy one leaves behind.
Stumbling in a couple of spots—particularly in a pivotal climactic decision that seems to come from nowhere, and the manner in which Leon drops off the narrative’s radar for a significant section of the film—Vexille’s script nonetheless powers an anime that plays some familiar sci-fi riffs just differently enough to warrant some serious attention.

(Vexille – 2077 Nippon Sakoku OS courtesy of sgforums.com; image courtesy of tiff07.ca.)

reVIEW (33)
ELEKTRA

Since my review for Suspect Zero went up here at the Iguana because it was co-written by Zak Penn, I figured this one should go up too, since it was also written by Penn. (Boy, it’s a good thing I enjoyed Incident at Loch Ness, or Penn might think I’ve got it in for him…)

Marvel really does know how to shoot itself in the foot.
For all their initiative in translating their superhero properties onto the big screen in the past few years—leaving DC far behind in the dust—it’s really only been Bryan Singer’s X2, Guillermo del Toro’s Blade II, and Sam Raimi’s Spider-man, that have passed muster. All their other movies have run the gamut from, a) better-than-good-but-not-great (X-Men), to b) disappointing (Ang Lee’s The Hulk), to c) just plain awful (Mark Steven Johnson‘s Daredevil).
Rob Bowman’s Elektra though, has the distinction of being the first of Marvel’s recent screen adaptations that is downright boring. And if it’s one thing a comic book film shouldn’t be, it’s boring. The four-color world of comics is frenetic and stylized, charged with adrenaline, and, in the case of red-clad assassin Elektra, a fair amount of pubescent hormones. Unfortunately, none of that is carried over to Bowman’s film.

Picking up some years after the events in Daredevil, Elektra begins with some voice-over back story by Terence Stamp’s Stick, before segueing into a standard sequence which is supposed to establish how formidable our heroine is. Her existence is now considered an urban legend, since she died, after all, in Daredevil. Now an assassin-for-hire, it isn’t long before she gets embroiled in the affairs of The Hand, an evil order of ninja—we know they are evil because when their minions die, they dissolve into billowing yellow smoke—with sinister designs on “The Treasure,” a warrior pivotal to the battle between light and dark.
What follows is a film that is not so much predictable as it is blandly unsurprising. Revelations are made in the course of the story that do absolutely nothing to raise the tepid sense of detached observation which quickly sets in while watching Jennifer Garner alternate between agonizing over the loss of her mother at an early age, and kicking Hand butt.
Sadly, not even the action sequences do much to alter the tenor of Elektra. Uniformly unimpressive—despite one that has a neat set-up with a multitude of floating white sheets—the fight scenes are even more inept than another recent Marvel entry, Blade: Trinity’s, and those were already nearly dispensable. Even the showdown with the quartet of enemy warriors—who we know are formidable and merciless because their grand entrance is done in slow-motion—are horribly inconsequential, as is Elektra’s face-off with main baddie, Kirigi (Will Yun Lee; Colonel Moon from Die Another Day). More’s the pity, considering Kirigi’s (again) none-too-surprising significance to Elektra’s life.

Zak Penn‘s script, in attempting to give us a human protagonist with a past filled with pain and emotion, ends up delivering a story totally devoid of action and tension, dealing, as it does, with story elements we’ve all seen before: the supposedly stone-cold killer with a good heart; the contract that isn’t what it seems; the targets that cause the killer to be conflicted, etcetera, ad nauseum.
Nowhere in the film’s running time do we actually feel a threat, a sense of danger. At no single point do we feel that life is a precious thing. After all, those of Elektra’s order can raise the dead, as they did with her. With that sort of power in your corner, why bother to worry?

Rob Bowman, meanwhile, elevates Elektra not a whit beyond its tension-free beginnings. An X-Files directorial alumnus, Bowman then went on to helm the X-Files feature film, as well as Reign of Fire. Other than a phantasmagoric kiss in a forest, and one of Elektra’s flashbacks involving an apparent demon, nothing in the film is indicative of any sort of directorial flair. Like the X-Files movie, Elektra is straight-forward and by-the-numbers, leaving no residue at all, no lingering feeling of “What did I just see?”, of the revelatory wonder that cinema is capable of.
Perhaps if the director were more versed in the very specific sort of world Elektra’s story is set in, then things would have turned out differently. This is a world steeped in martial arts and mysticism, the world of the Hong Kong martial arts genre, or, to be truer to Elektra’s comic book roots, the world of Japanese manga and anime.

Now, lest I be accused of racism, let me reiterate: Elektra needed a director versed in the genre. Quentin Tarantino understood it well in the Kill Bill saga, as did Guillermo del Toro in Blade II, and the Wachowskis in The Matrix, and none of them are Asian. Inappropriately, Bowman seems to have approached the material as if it were a normal action film with a touch of the supernatural thrown into the mix. Elektra needed to be soaked in a certain atmosphere, to have a specific sensibility. Instead, it languishes in a flavorless stock of mundane proportion.
Not even the presence of charismatic Terence Stamp—who has done everything in his career from facing down the Man of Steel in Superman II, to prancing around the Australian outback in drag in The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert—manages to make a dent in the terribly pedestrian armor Elektra is wrapped in.

In the end, where Elektra is concerned, I think this was the biggest surprise: spinning off from the awful Daredevil, I thought it would either be better, or worse, with the greater possibility of being better, as Daredevil was already pretty bad
I just never expected Elektra to be a big, stupefying bore.

(Elektra OS courtesy of impawards.com.)

(The above is a slightly altered version of a previously published review entitled “Marvelous Bore.”)

PAPRIKA
(Review)

I will freely admit I am not a big anime freak. In fact, I came to anime by way of my being a film geek (and a gaggle of college friends who were big anime freaks).
Katsuhiro Otomo’s Akira opened the doors for me, of course, as it did for so many others. But my anime hero is, hands down, Satoshi Kon.
Even since he blew me away with Perfect Blue, Kon has consistently amazed and impressed me with his work: Sennen Joyu (Millennium Actress), Tokyo Godfathers, and the 13-part Moso Dairinin (Paranoia Agent).
Now he’s back with Paprika, and I’m just now picking my jaw up from off the floor.

Paprika opens with a familiar circus gag: a clown unfolding himself from out of a car that is far too small to have contained him in the first place. This is, of course, a visual cue to one of the film’s themes: how something vast like dreams can be contained in the tiny vessels of our minds.
Paprika is about the DC Mini, a groundbreaking invention that allows two individuals to share a common dream. Much like the scenario posited in Tarsem Singh’s The Cell, one person can enter the subconscious of another, and interact, not just with that person, but with his dreaming mind as well.
While a Detective Konukawa—stumped on a murder case he is investigating—is helped by the eponymous Paprika, who enters his dreams to see whether the problem is rooted there, a number of DC Minis are stolen from the company developing the technology. Soon, dreams are used to invade people’s psyches, trapping them in a waking state of delusion and mad ramblings, a chilling precursor to a more widespread epidemic that will threaten the very fabric of reality.

While in past films like Perfect Blue and Sennen Joyu, Kon has mined the idea of fiction intruding on reality (and vice versa) and utilized it as a narrative device, in Paprika, he takes that theme and places it at the very heart of the work.
There, at the dreaming center of Paprika, that theme plays with the other ideas that bubble beneath its animated skin—the parallels between dreams and the Internet; truth that can spring from fiction; dream as film and film as modern man’s repository of dreams—and produces a brilliant piece of inspired storytelling that is the latest gem in Kon’s dazzling body of work.

As with all of his films, Paprika is a visually arresting piece, the dreamscapes on view utilizing motifs from myth, fairy tales, and film (which, of course, serves the same purpose today that myths and fairy tales used to in the past). Appropriately enough, the dreams we get to see in the film are unsettling and disturbing, and Kon rifles through imagery normally associated with children (circuses and dolls and parades) and extracts their inherent sinister qualities to suit his storytelling purposes.

But above and beyond the visual, what probably draws me to Kon the most is his clear love of film and how he draws on that for his anime.
In Perfect Blue, he brought Hitchcock and giallo to the animated film in a razor-edged mindf*ck that constantly shifted between fiction and reality as a J-pop singer trying to segue into acting becomes embroiled in murder. In Sennen Joyu, an aging film star reminisces about her past, her life and her films intertwining to form one long, shining reel of memory. In Tokyo Godfathers (clearly a play on a cinematic tradition that stretches back to the 1936 Western, Three Godfathers), three of Japan’s homeless find an infant during Christmas and become the child’s unlikely guardians.
In each of these anime, film is either a crucial plot element or an obvious inspiration, and it is partly because of this clear love for the medium that Kon’s works play so differently than those of other anime heavyweights like Otomo or Miyazaki. There is also clearly a postmodern bent to Kon’s storytelling that serves to elevate his work even more above the average anime.
What can I say? I love his stuff.

Of course, one could argue that Paprika is not his best work—and I’d agree. But as it stands, Paprika is nonetheless better than your average anime, and is another excellent masterwork from Kon. Certainly worth a look, even if you aren’t particularly an anime geek.

(Paprika OS courtesy of impawards.com; image courtesy of outnow.ch.)