Blue Eye Samurai: The Poisoned Chalice of Good

Why is revenge universally compelling? From time immemorial, whether in our entertainment spaces or real life, revenge holds fast in the deepest recesses of our fantasies. But what primordial desire can revenge possibly fulfill in us ‘civilised’ folk? Is it following the sordid action-heavy sprees fuelling a bloodlust for justice? What makes us entangle ourselves with another’s undying will to right a wrong?

All those ingredients do conjure up a good revenge tale, but there’s one vital part missing in that concoction which Netflix’s Blue Eye Samurai brings to light, and it is this: good.

Hatred alone does not drive revenge, but love poisoned by betrayal, trust poisoned by manipulation. Revenge is not innate; it is evil bred from good.

A cosmic rage unsheathed by the grander machinations of her harsh reality, Mizu’s path of revenge is a visually-striking tapestry of vendetta.

Blue Eye Samurai’s protagonist, Mizu, suffered tribulations being born as a half-white child (marked by her distinguishable blue eyes) in Japan’s 17^th-century Edo period, which saw Japan shutter its borders from outsiders to remain pure. This decree cursed mixed-race Mizu to a life of abuse, so much so that she single-handedly honed swordmanship so that she could avenge the remaining loved ones that showed her love.

But in an unrelentingly cruel world, true love and goodness can never truly take root, and the remaining fragments of Mizu’s innocence were crushed by the heartless betrayal of those same remaining loved ones whom she sought to stand by. At this juncture, Mizu’s blue eyes have finally and fully condemned her soul into a purgatory of retaliation towards the world that created her.

This betrayal and condemnation reawakened Mizu’s vengeful spirit. Her retribution now is not about avenging anyone else but herself, as she becomes hellbent on wiping out the very heritage that birthed her with blue eyes.

A cosmic rage unsheathed by the grander machinations of her harsh reality, Mizu’s path of revenge is a visually-striking tapestry of vendetta. More notably, it’s a gritty reflection of the truth and appeal of revenge within us all.

Revenge is a poisoned chalice of good, and once drunk from that chalice, only evil is left foaming at the mouth of the drinker who has forsaken their once-decent soul into extinction.

‘The Tragedy of Macbeth’ Review: The Duality of Fate

Shakespearean literature has long been imbued into the very fibre of modern myths and legends, with countless adaptations spanning centuries that illuminate the soloist calamities of human beings against the backdrop of grandiosity – cautioning everyone that none can escape life’s sorrow, no matter your social status.

The story of Macbeth may be Shakespeare’s most accessible work in navigating these thematic signatures, with Joel Coen (one half of the illustrious directorial duo, the Coen Brothers) becoming the latest steward of adapting Macbeth in the film ‘The Tragedy of Macbeth’.

The black-and-white cinematic appearance of the film reminded me of a similar Macbeth film adaptation, Akira Kurosawa’s Throne of Blood. Both films stoically captured the desolate landscapes and empty halls that stress the searing solace that the lead characters face, especially Macbeth and his wife.  In Coen’s film, this black-and-white filmic canvas further artistically accentuates the morally grey areas that Macbeth and his wife are tormented with as they languish in the strife in their souls, their deeds of blood and betrayal ascending them to royalty. It is as if their blackened souls, masked behind their pure-white virtuous appearance, emerges outward in every frame of the film.

Of the film’s talented cast, Denzel Washington stands out in the lead as Macbeth, giving a thunderously theatrical tour de force that injects a measured amount of his signature suave in his dialogue and acting, whether it be in wit, anger, deceit or terror. His chemistry with Frances MacDormand is effectually hollow, a good thing given the tragic and distant nature of Macbeth and his wife’s relationship which further crumbles as the film goes on.

Illuminate the soloist calamities of human beings against the backdrop of grandiosity

The film bestows the perfect avenue for those unfamiliar with Macbeth tale, even though the classical source material may seem a tad too highbrow for new viewers (some may even misconstrue it as browbeating). However, the onus remains on the viewer to peer through the classical lens and language to unearth the striking universal themes the film portrays.

The most striking of them all? The sanctification of the one inescapable tragedy that befalls us all – fate. Many of us assume fate can either only be a boon or bane, depending on the person. However, Macbeth’s destiny of becoming king, foretold by three witches, becomes the initial boon that also augurs his baneful existence.

His active role in instigating the quicker arrival of his destiny through murder and deception only further exacerbates the guilt and burden Macbeth was meant to shoulder in the first place, enlightening us viewers with an interesting lesson of how much, and at the same time how little, our choices play in our future. Do choices change fate, or merely hasten or delay its inevitability? Macbeth’s tale suggests the latter.

The tragedy of Macbeth isn’t his actual downfall in conscience or status nor that his prophesied providence led him down a road of catastrophe, but his failure to ultimately understand the duality of fate itself. That fate is double-edged sword of benevolence and malevolence, and no choice made can change how this sword will impale you.

In The Mouth of Madness (1994) Review: When Fictional Horror Becomes Our Reality

The latest release of the long-gestating film sequel to The Shining, Doctor Sleep, marks an ever-growing thunderous run of Stephen King novel-to-film releases swamping theatres and streaming services the past couple of years. People everywhere no doubt soak without remorse in the pleasurable gamut of fictional horror stories that The King of Horror has put pen to paper over decades. But imagine if there was a story that not only deftly infuses a plethora of King’s finest tropes with beautiful subtlety, but also explores the possible extremity of horror fiction’s impact on the masses (much like our own reality with audience’s consumption of King’s film novels and adaptations). Well, there is. Kind of.

It’s a film I dare deem the greatest “Stephen King” film that isn’t actually an adaptation of the author’s written works – rarely echoed in today’s burgeoning conversation of horror classics in light of the genre’s ongoing renaissance. I’m talking about John Carpenter’s In The Mouth Of Madness. This 1994 psychological horror film stars Sam Neill as a nosy yet nonchalant insurance investigator named John Trent who’s in search for famed multi-novel horror author Sutter Cane (in other words, Stephen King). Entering a ghost town where Crane supposedly resides, John begins experience subtle ghastly hallucinations that eventually transition into tangible, ghoulish incarnations hell-bent on unleashing an unspeakable evil – all thanks to the Crane’s written works that become a vessel for evil’s dominion to crossover to our reality.

At best, the film’s a cinematic serenade that effortlessly injects King’s pension for transforming the ordinary into symbols of unrelenting terror into what’s essentially a classic Lovecraftian horror narrative. Peeling someone apart at the seams of their sanity never looked or felt as thrillingly grotesque than here which is arguably this film’s greatest strength (just look at the film’s poster artwork for goodness sake!). Legendary horror director John Carpenter himself manages to restrain his go-to gory onscreen musings (e.g. The Thing) to flesh out the absolutely insane mental trip Trent braves through. Sam Neill also kills it with his vibrant portrayal of the desperate and increasingly chaotic Trent who’s witnessing his reality being demolished before his very eyes – his attempts at regaining his sanity getting meeker as the darkness leisurely devours the inner machinations of his fractured mind.

The movie isn’t without its fair share of pitfalls, however, with much of it coming from the film’s third act which postulates an intriguing closure for our protagonist but fails to answer a couple of under-explored plot points that might inconvenience you the more you try to wrap your head around them.

In the end, these imperfections fade into obscurity as you ultimately get sucked into a genuinely haunting thrill ride about how human irrationality can be escalated by fictional horror tales that increasingly blur the lines between what’s real and what isn’t. You know, you tend to take so much delight when reveling in dark and disturbing fiction that you become almost insensitive to these horrifying escapades. Does that insensitivity mean you’re now immune to these horrors, or have you already succumbed to evil’s manipulation?

*All image rights belong to their respective rights holders.

Yesterday (2019): Why Erasing The Beatles Is The Best Way To Celebrate Their Legacy

Age 13-15 was a puzzling period for me, music-wise. You see, my childhood days were filled with classic rock tunes ranging from head-banging Iron Maiden jams played from the car radio to Creedence Clearwater Revival tunes that my dad would frequently belt out on his rugged acoustic guitar. However, beginning secondary school was ostensibly the death of those nostalgic music influences in me. It didn’t have to be, but as a wide-eyed 13-year-old kid scanning my school environment to find my musical tastes wildly unpopular compared to the modern pop music of the time that got almost everyone else hooked, I shuttered myself from revealing my “outdated” tastes in music in fear of being misunderstood or even reviled.

I was even attending music classes during this period of musical nihilism. Can you imagine going to guitar classes while running dry of any musical inclination to infuse into the instrument I was trying to master?

I was having a sort of music “identity crisis” – repressing the music I loved while refusing to adhere to the pop hits I personally considered dull (not to put down anyone else’s musical tastes, to each their own after all). It was a senseless balancing act that teenage me tried so hard not to falter in.

And then The Beatles showed up.

Tunes like “I Want To Hold Your Hand”, “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds” and of course “Hey Jude” became little life anthems constantly swirling in my head

Maybe it was on YouTube although it’s hard to recall now, but I remember listening to “Hey Jude” playing, and something dormant lit up inside me again – an emotional spark that electrified every fibre of my being. I’ve casually listened to The Beatles before this and I even learnt “Let It Be” and “Yesterday” on the guitar, but hearing this beautifully drawn-out classic rock anthem about consoling the tears of negative circumstances with a light of optimism and compassion was something… more.

I dug deeper into more of The Beatles’ vast discography to discover a huge array of songs that just spoke to me. Tunes like “I Want To Hold Your Hand”, “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds” and of course “Hey Jude” became little life anthems constantly swirling in my head as I started to gradually unearth my long-buried rock music influences that I now wholeheartedly embrace today.

It was one of the primary reasons I thoroughly adored Danny Boyle’s ‘Yesterday’ (2019) film that, to me, is one of the best films to celebrate The Beatles’ legacy… by purposefully erasing them from existence with only the protagonist Jack remembering them! It’s a wild premise that, while disappointingly under-explored, does just enough to set up a truly poignant tale about the universality and significance of the classic influences that gave birth to our modern pleasures.

Yesterday reminded me about the idea of embracing something you truly believe in as though it’s in the present, even if it hails from the past, to truly let its worth manifest within you. Whether it’s music, art or anything else, never let your influences die out; wear them like armour and allow them to be a part of your own legacy.

Image Credits: Imdb.com, Letterboxd.com

‘Once Upon A Time In Hollywood’ Review: Tarantino’s Visceral Meditation On Hollywood’s Golden Age

Bob Dylan’s “The Times They Are A Changin’” would have been the perfect theme song to describe director-writer Quentin Tarantino’s latest cinematic escapade, Once Upon A Time In Hollywood (not to knock on Tarantino’s masterful selection of classic tunes in his 9^th film; proliferating the 60s vibe buried in the heart of Los Angeles).

Yet that song would have been too on the nose in highlighting the film’s portrayal of the inevitable tragedy of classic cinemascape. I feel Tarantino made the right choice to instead showcase this era of Tinsel town in all its unbridled glamour (embodied by Margot Robbie’s Sharon Tate) while mixing into it the unhinged career identity crisis embedded in showbusiness (exemplified through Leonardo DiCaprio’s Rick Dalton) with a dash of classic Steve McQueen-esque coolness that was all the rage during that period (personified by Brad Pitt’s Cliff Booth).

It’s a more ambitious narrative undertaking for Tarantino (picture Pulp Fiction but with a bigger budget) and so if the pacing feels off during your viewing, just know that it was a deliberate decision straight from the director’s chair in order to compensate for the massive scope of following three separate lead characters in their respective journeys.

More than any other film he’s done before, Tarantino’s cinephilia is finally let loose in this film, to my extreme delight. From subtle references to spaghetti westerns (a guilty pleasure of mine) like The Mercenary and Navajo Joe to playful cameos of era-specific radio commercials and film classics like The Wrecking Crew, I was giddy as a school kid because I felt truly transported into this surreal recreation of classic Hollywood. The film’s runtime of almost three hours was just a tad too short.

All in all, Tarantino successfully injects his signature visceral story-telling prowess into a beautifully-crafted rumination about the dying days of Hollywood’s golden age of cinema.

P.S. MINOR END-CREDITS SPOILER: I loved the classic Batman and Robin radio commercial plastered at the end-credits. I feel it’s Tarantino’s way of acknowledging the roots that gave birth to the current landscape of modern cinema that’s now dominated by big budget superhero films – the final nail in the coffin of Hollywood’s Golden Age.

Light Of Day (1987) Review: Michael J. Fox and Joan Jett’s Underrated Rock & Roll Caper

To all hardcore Back To The Future fans in the ether, ever wanted to see how’d it be if the film’s titular time-travelling hero Marty McFly became a fully-fledged rockstar, jamming with an electric guitar in a band performing on the road? Then 1987’s Light Of Day is just for you!

It stars Michael J. Fox and Joan Jett (the established frontwoman of revered rock groups like Joan Jett & The Blackhearts and The Runaways) as brother-sister duo Joey and Patti Rasnick who’re gunning for their big music break with their band, The Barbusters.

Light Of Day is as much about the rockstar life on stage in front of cheering crowds as it is about the rocky reality away from the spotlight.

The heart of the film stems from the conflict of family ties; ties that seem to repel as much as it binds, in Patti’s case. Distancing herself from her family, especially from her mother Jeanette Rasnick (buoyed by a wonderfully heart-breaking performance from television stalwart Gena Rowlands), Patti tries to bury herself in the rock & roll scene – finding a solace fuelled by her discord with her mother due to a heated past spat.

A mature tale about the difficulty of reconciling with the past and how leaving it unattended just serves to emotionally tear people apart, Light Of Day is as much about the rockstar life on stage in front of cheering crowds as it is about the rocky reality away from the spotlight. Patti’s stumbling path towards reconciling these two aspects of herself is worth exploring as it’s something we all can ultimately relate to.

As an ardent fan of all things rock, particularly from the 70s and 80s, I was highly entertained by the film’s musical setlist. This Means War and the titular single Light Of Day (penned by Bruce Springsteen himself!) are standout moments for audiences and for Fox and Jett too. Their electrifying chemistry on stage is palpable, as Jett’s untamed wildness and Fox’s signature enthusiasm grabs you from the film’s beginning and never lets go even after the credits begin to roll!

Image copyright belong to their respective owners and websites.

Toy Story 4 Wasn’t For The Audience, And That’s A Good Thing

Was Toy Story 4 needed? I personally didn’t think so at first.

As a young kid that knew nothing about the real world’s humdrum and instead resigned myself to crafting my own worlds through the Star Wars and Power Rangers toys I owned, watching the adventures of Woody, Buzz and the whole gang of Andy’s toys coming to life in Toy Story were spellbinding to me.

Toy Story 1 enshrined my childhood in the notion that the toys that came to life in the movie personified how I viewed playing with my toys. The three-dimensional personalities of Toy Story’s characters like Woody added an extra layer of depth that allowed me to live and breathe as them, just like how I would feel when playing with my own toys in their grand imaginary escapades. The toys in Toy Story weren’t just Andy’s toys, they became mine too.

So when Toy Story 3 perfectly wrapped up the franchise in a stirring farewell to these lovable miniature heroes, I felt a part of me had finally moved on, even though I had long since stopped playing with my own figurines. Just like Andy, Toy Story 3 gave me the closure to my childhood I never thought I needed, allowing me to truly cherish the juvenile bliss I had.

The brilliance of Toy Story 4 lies in the fact that it isn’t concerned about how we feel about the toys.

Pixar stated that they would never come back to Toy Story again unless there’s a solid story in place. Thus, When Toy Story 4’s trailer dropped, I thought Pixar was aiming for a loftier narrative vision of deconstructing the entire Toy Story mythos of toys coming to life –  a manufactured toy becoming cognisant is one thing, but what about cobbling together inanimate objects that then becomes a toy like the film’s Forky character? To my disappointment, the film didn’t address that, which initially led me to question its existence.

I believe the brilliance of Toy Story 4 lies in the fact that it isn’t concerned about how we feel about the toys, it wants to show us what these toys feel about themselves. Woody undergoes a sort of existential crisis in this film, of finding his place in the world, which allowed me to finally understand that Woody had become more than just a toy I loved. He was a real character – a friend – that wanted his purpose fulfilled, and I wanted to journey right alongside him to find that.

I may not have needed a Toy Story 4, but Woody did.

Image Credit: People.com

John Wick Chapter 3 – Parabellum: Modern Action Filmmaking At Its Finest

John Wick: Chapter 3 – Parabellum is a masterclass in brutal, unforgiving action juxtaposed against clean, composed cinematography which harkens back to the 70s and 80s Asian action films that preferred longer and more uncompromised shots of fighting sequences than the chopped-up and groggy visualisation of action scenes that many Hollywood films today tend to adhere to.

The first two action sequences in this film alone set a pretty high bar for how intimate fight scenes should be shot in filmmaking. The choreography is pretty gripping most of the time, with more innovation infused into it the longer the action sequences last to keep the audiences engaged for a prolonged period.

As for the narrative, it’s great to see the film continue to expand upon its world building bravado that action-centric films like itself rarely ever consider doing. The larger lore that gives life to John Wick’s world is opened up in a refreshing-but-not-totally-unexpected way through introduction of the Adjudicator character who seeks to chastise John’s allies. Keanu Reeves as the ‘Baba Yaga’ himself, John Wick, continues to be a force of nature that’ll keep your eyes glued to the screen whenever he’s on. Halle Berry’s character Sofia feels oddly placed though, her character serving a more minor role than what was advertised, thus having little effect on John’s journey.

I also love how John’s dog, who strikes a more pleasant and non-violent demeanour compared to his assassin master, represents John’s true self – the self that wants nothing more than to live a normal life, the self that’s now buried deep beneath the cold, violent exterior of a man who’s been pissed off one too many times.

Image Credit: DigitalSpy.com

Netflix’s ‘The Highwaymen’ Film Analysis: A Little Evil Makes The World A Better Place

What do you do when being good and following the law fails to quell an unstoppable evil that has almost zero chance of redemption? Netflix’s ‘The Highwaymen’, which portrays the true tale about a couple of former Texas Rangers tasked to take down the infamous violent crime duo Bonnie and Clyde, wrestles with the inevitably cold-hearted answer to the question above.

To stop a person who’s crossed the ultimate line of morality – taking one’s life – you get another who’s all too familiar with that moral dilemma themselves to stop them. You find someone who’s come within an inch of crossing that line, but never did, which makes them the best at fathoming what needs to be done to prevent the evil at hand without succumbing to it. Celebrated Texas Ranger Frank Hamer (Kevin Costner) embodied this complex spiral of morality.

Accidentally indoctrinated into a world of violence through an act of revenge as a teenager, Frank’s used his burgeoning violent tendencies for the law instead, turning that act of revenge into a calling to exact justice onto other evil doers, no matter the what the costs are. Because when it comes to conquering evil, sometimes you’re going to have to get your conscience a little dirty to make the world a better place – something that’s almost routine for Frank.

I found it fascinating that Frank’s ultimately a character that some might come to hate at the end of the watching ‘The Highwaymen’. If you do feel that way, I can tell you that you won’t be feeling too different how Frank feels himself.