Kalamity: A Flawless Illustration of Imperfect Emotion

Kalamity, an independent film directed and written by James M. Hausler, which stars Jonathan Jackson and Nick Stahl, perfectly illustrates the ever imperfection of human emotion and how tough it can be to let go of something we have lost.

It pulls no punches, along with splendid cinematography and heartfelt, thorough and thoughtful dialogue. The acting is crisp and penetrating with lots of subtle meaning behind every distant gaze and painful wince. It is films like this one that inspire me to both write and direct my own pensive depiction of a straggler's life.

Therefore I wholeheartedly recommend this wonderfully poignant film, as it is one of the best I've seen in quite some time. Few movies can be this profound. It instills a knowledge of human fragility that is often denied and forgotten.

Dead Awake: Mending Towards Solace

In life, people spend a long time grieving over mistakes and regrets. This film, filled with symbolism and a sympathetic musical score, touches upon such a puzzle and how so many souls wander in search of atonement.

The film, directed by Omar Naim and written by John Harrington, though visually too dark and overly "scary" with shrill sounds at times, presents a grainy view of life and how frightening it can become, illustrating how some people perceive the world around them. They are enslaved to shadow, ambivalent of which path to veer down upon at the innermost crossroads in their lives. Humor is light, but the reward is high once these people realize that there is still something worth living for despite what they have lost in the past. After all, it is "better to be late in this life than to be early in the next." It is about emotional liberation, the kind of freedom that can only be sprung by one's own acceptance of the past. Letting go brings much light.

It is beautifully acted, the dialogue bursting with lines of denial which we would all do well to realize how greatly denial and the absence of our loved ones affects our everyday lives. The film is about order, how life revolves from lightness to blackness and how every woven fabric of reality is interconnected, for once a single soul finds redemption and solace, another becomes burdened with sadness. Nick Stahl is the leading man, smoldering and somber in his own depression, and Brian Lynner (a relatively unknown actor, the definition of a hidden gem) plays the burly undertaker and a surrogate father of sorts to Stahl at the funeral home through which its deathly routine Stahl's character broods along toward the final crescendo of his ultimate tranquility. Amy Smart and Rose McGowan are beauties in the background, with both of their roles factoring greatly into Stahl's unrest.

Lightheartedly, Dead Awake urges us to hope that things can still be enjoyable even after we've lost so much, resonating the wistful dream that we can go back, in a way, and repair what has been severed by our own refusal to accept the most harrowing of pains. It is more sympathetic towards the shortcomings of others, those all around us in life today, than say "Kalamity" did, another film that starred the steely and vehement Nick Stahl, which balances the scale of how we can still fix what has been taken away without causing any more self-damage in the process while not forsaking those that have given us so much love, memory, and sadness. It is a thoughtful picture that obviously deserves our reflection.

Twelve: People with Problems

Twelve is a new hip drug in NYC, a mixture of coke and weed, real kooky shit, and it is also the title of a gripping, lively, narrow and thoughtful web directed by Joel Schumacher and based from a novel written by Nick McDonell, rolling from an adapted screenplay by Jordan Melamed as it sets its cross hairs over emotionally-weathered teenagers in need of something, a something that is very unique to them but they all suffer from the same fault: they are not satisfied with their lives. It is an emotionally driven film that showcases multiple character depth with interchanging sequences that supply screen-time for new, young faces from the world of acting rather than delve into a myriad of taut storytelling. The novel is probably the perfect substitute, but it is still a compelling tale to watch unfold.

One character is a bookworm that excels at history, but seeks the new hip drug and turns into a strung-out junkie along the way. Another is a roid-popping troubled big brother with a multitude of issues, especially those that stem from the strained relationship with his parents. Bent any further, he might very well break as he manically purchases pistols and swords from a self-concerned saleswoman that insists on cash only transactions. Heartthrob Chace Crawford, from Gossip Girl, is the main focus, portraying a sharp-dressed drug dealer that works for the higher-up-the-food-chain 50 Cent, who plays his superior with a knack for getting into trouble. Crawford’s good looks contrast well against White Mike’s struggle with mommy issues, somewhere frozen along the way in the wake of his mother’s mortal tussle with cancer.

Twelve centers on Crawford’s character, White Mike, and his aspired but disjointed relationship with a childhood friend, played by Emma Roberts, a bond that is only met with rigidity and tension. Rory Culkin plays the younger brother of the roid addict, who probably has the most heartbreaking performance in the film, contrasting from his real-life brother’s Home Alone fame as he hosts parties for the mindless socialites and nervously tries to avoid his violent older brother that tends to smash his hand on the wall of the shower. All of these characters revolve around one another, mixed in with drug exploration. From preppy girls, rich kids to the homicidal turn shown by Billy Magnussen's troubled big brother role, it certainly packs a lot of sting. I only wish it could have gone even deeper earlier in the film and perhaps snagged a hold on bigger names to shine amongst the young actors, but the conclusion is well worth the build-up. Is it truly worth it to run away from one's problems or face them? Before too long, fate has a tendency to decide instead.

In conclusion, the concentrated depth works for the film’s overall scope and reach ability. I found myself liking the faces and personalities hidden underneath them. The cynical and wise narration by Kiefer Sutherland, still riding off his Phone Booth menacing persona, is a nice addition to this well-paced portrait. If you’re looking for some sympathy to your own emotions, then this is the movie for you. It shows that everyone struggles in their own special way, regardless of how pretty or popular they are and that every soul handles stress diversely.

Zookeeper

Who's In It?: Kevin James, Rosario Dawson, Leslie Bibb, Donnie Wahlberg & Joe Rogan.

Who Talks In It?: Adam Sandler, Bas Rutten, Cher, Judd Apatow, Nick Nolte and Sylvester Stallone.

What's it about?: A jilted zookeeper trugs along through life after a bad break-up. With the help of a very communicative ensemble of animals, he musters the courage to win back his ex. Or is he wrong about it all and has actually already found happiness without her?

Loved it. 10/10.

The animals were great, as was the CGI and lively voice acting and I found the humor level astounding!

Surely it is no epic tale, but it is still definitely a winner in my eyes. It served its purpose well, and I cannot recall a film I've enjoyed more as of late.

The only drawback was the tired 'boy loses girl, sulks, tries to get girl back, gets girl back, dumps her for the girl he truly loved all along' trope. However, it isn't as strained as in other films which makes it bearable.

Also, there are so many funny sequences to make up for the tired romance angle. It was a joy to watch!

PS: As an admirer of wolves, it was nice to see them portrayed so well. Why can't the wolves of Twilight not look this impressive? Oh, and if you're looking for a fun time, pal around with your favorite pet gorilla and enjoy some T.G.I. Friday's together!

Rumble Fish: The Only Way Is Up

Francis Ford Coppola and S.E. Hinton palled together to pen the screenplay from the latter's hidden gem of a novel, "Rumble Fish", one of the many successors of a classic, The Outsiders, and honestly, this portrait is packed with just as much quality, serving as the big brother of the popular hit.

Despite the more adult nature of the film (like drugs, nudity, profanity and sex) that wasn't featured heavily in The Outsiders, it also offered a gritty realism to the charmingly black-and-white picture that revolves around a gang lifestyle. Clearly there is a tougher and more intense atmosphere to this film and I found myself appreciating it on a thoughtful level.

There are many familiar faces, if observation is one's forte, with a plethora of soon-to-be cinematic sensations and some returning up-and-comers that were also featured in The Outsiders. Notably featured is a groovy-looking Nicolas Cage and a ravishing Diane Lane, along with a young Laurence Fishburne and a delightful Sofia Coppola as Lane's younger sister. These appearances help melt the viewer into the atmosphere even more deeply because it provides a sense of familiarity. While the characters have changed, the charisma has been preserved.

The picture is carried by surly Matt Dillon, not too far from the tree of Dallas Winston, and his performance as Rusty James is simply magnetic. His talent for showing emotion streams along more fluidly than it was able to during his limited role in The Outsiders. He's the younger brother of a gang hero of old, infamously known as The Motorcycle Boy (a rallying and supporting role owned by a mousy, seductive and young Mickey Rourke), and clearly struggles to live up to his big brother's legendary stature. He's an emotional wreck and Dillon portrays it flawlessly. He doesn't see a purpose in education and self-loathes over the sudden abandonment of his mother and lack of connection with his distant older brother. Fighting is his escape and there is no end or grasp of salvation in sight other than not coming home alive to his drunken father.

I personally sympathized for poor Rusty, but the picture does not share the feeling. His struggle isn't lessened by fourth-wall empathy, but is rather blatant and meant to serve as a blunt truth. His life is only filled with temporal pleasures and is only steepening by the minute. One would think the sudden return of his ghostly older brother of Motorcycle Boy fame would offer some tranquility, but all it does is further aggravate Rusty's poor emotional state of mind. He keeps getting hurt, revealing the pain and lack of fulfillment that eats away at him internally.

Once The Motorcycle Boy arrives, the audience is handed another plate of trepidation. Rourke's performance is detached, nonchalant and wistful, a perfect capture of a discouraged ex-gang hero now struggling to swallow his frivolous past. Disjointed, their brotherly bond never quite blossoms but towards the conclusion provides a single spark of hope for the younger Rusty, in exchange for inevitable tragedy, to do as his older brother could not.

The film is laced with cloudy visuals, mystifying and quaint. It is as if the entire boxed world of Rumble Fish is in a haze, puzzled as to where it should look for absolution and clarity. This visual overlay epitomizes Rusty's inner turmoil, along with the numbed suffering of The Motorcycle Boy. Along with bouncy music, all of this artistry provides a soothing counter to the somewhat depressing material of the plot. It's a downer in some ways, but the conclusion more than makes up for it.

There is beautiful symbolism used throughout and metaphor after metaphor only captivates the viewer even more. From wishes of liberation that inspire us to defy one's own entrapped existence, hopefully ambivalent embraces of one's own individuality... then finally of pitying expressions that ooze compassion and warmth shown by the most unlikely of phantoms, I was pulled into this day-to-night-to-day straggler's tale and Rumble Fish definitely achieves what it sets out to do. A hidden gem, indeed. In tribute to The Outsiders and the Robert Frost poem, this film reminded me of how, "Nothing Gold Can Stay" yet it does not mean as well that we cannot strive to discover a little bit of treasure for ourselves to weather the storm of our dreary lives.

All we need to find is a bit of color. "Saying ain't doing" and we just need to "see the ocean."

Powder Blue: A Light Shower of Confetti

A transsexual prostitute, a suicidal straggler, a grieving ex-con, an asthmatic mortician and a fretful stripper-- now, doesn't that sound like a bar joke gone wrong?

The remarkable thing is how it isn't.

It's the list of characters in "Powder Blue", directed and written by Timothy Linh Bui, that focuses lightly on all of these woeful people as they all trudge along despite their own pain and dissatisfaction, each of them unconsciously vying for the "most fucked-up" award. Who'll survive?

The poignant and bleak atmosphere of the powdery backdrop resides within Los Angeles, as we are drawn to the suicidal beggary of Forest Whitaker's brooding and depressed lonely man portrayal. It is piteous and we only begin to understand his pain toward the end of the film, telling why he wishes to die and why he cannot do the deed himself, yet must ask another to end his life for him. Finding that certain somebody is a tougher task to achieve.

I found myself most drawn to his character and missed his struggle while the other characters shared their own suffering instead. Luckily, this film does come around full circle, filling in the spaces eventually.

Next we are shown the portrait of a recently paroled ex-con, intricately played by Ray Liotta. He gravely misses the life he left behind, including his darling wife that recently passed away, in exchange for a prison sentence and becomes infatuated with a stripper upon release.

Clearly it is learned that none of these characters value superficial treasures such as money. Both Forest's and Liotta's roles are practically treating it like autumn leaves. Clearly, they all seek a higher quality of contentment and it never seems that they find it.

That stripper is Jessica Biel, and she truly grates at one's compassion. Her son is in a vegetative state in the hospital, her father left her at an early age and her mother recently passed away. She is devoted to her shameful occupation in order to pay for her son's hospital bills. Blatantly, it is painfully obvious how she has begun to lose her sense of rationale. She can't understand why her boy hasn't woken up yet and more importantly why doctors are powerless to alter her harrowing reality. To supplement her torment, she becomes close to a pet dog that wanders off early in the film and is hit by the passing car of an asthmatic, socially shy mortician. Yet another agonized basket case, he initially becomes defensive upon sight of fliers which tell of the missing dog as he covetously rips them off poles in Los Angeles. Along the way, he takes care of the wounded animal and eventually sees good sense in finding Biel's stripper to return the beloved pet.

The last car wreck of a soul is a transsexual prostitute that wishes to change genders, but obviously doesn't have the funding for the operation itself. They numbly proceed through their dangerous lifestyle and incite Forest's strange and suicidal straggler. They have jaded views on suicide themselves and lash out at Forest's despondent request. Later we learn that they fancy a razor blade over such a vacuous existence. This is the tragic character and it serves the story well.

As time passes, the stripper compels the mortician and they begin to distract themselves from their separate trials through each other's fondness of one another. Meanwhile, Ray Liotta falls out of touch with Biel's stripper and Forest's straggler hobbles along in search of an assisted suicide, even despite glimpses of a delightful substitute as he chats sweetly with some females throughout the film.

Don't be mistaken; this is no fairytale. Other than the theme of 'misery loves company', you'll find no sweet conclusions, only compromises. To make up for it, there are some ambiguous but artful scenes.

This grounds the picture into reality and it is easily appreciated, even if it means there won't be a heartwarming finale to each character's battle with life's sick sense of humor. It's subtle and somewhat quaint, but I found myself fancying it as it scraped along. It's awkward and sad, but the performances steal your heart away. I'd rank Biel's as the best and sadly regret that Liotta's role could not have been expanded. It feels a bit empty with the conclusion, but it still was a worthwhile film.

The Panic in Needle Park: Chip, Don't Use

With a vibrant and charming Al Pacino, the world of heroin junkies is revealed without being pretentious. Characters are deeply flawed but never glorified or sympathetic which preserves the film's sense of realism, glazing the film with a human aspect that is missed in other fanciful tales where people become heroes.

It has definitely lifted my spirits (ironically so) after suffering through a chain of disappointing movies. As a fan of Pacino, I love it. It's raw and avoids being gloomy, showing how addicts survive.

The sights and sounds of NYC are utilized well, as well as the interpersonal relationships between the one-in-the-same addict society. Al Pacino spices up his versatility in this role and plays a very convincing junkie that is constantly smiling and showing his silly side.

This film reminded me of how much I like NY-based cinema. It's apparent that Pacino loves NYC, as well. His background clearly benefits him in these roles. I may not have been around during the 70s, but even a disjointed city like NYC seems to flow inside of its own perfect disharmony and Pacino almost glides down the infinite corners and crossings. Such a lively performance. I also love the old feel to these movies. People look real for once and they aren't touched up by 2000-era technology. Everything in this film progresses at a natural slow pace as the atmosphere teeters on misery but luckily never reaches it.

Even though these characters are self-destructive and aimless, they trudge on with such energy and openness to others. It's childlike as well despite the heavily adult undertones that are neither the aim or bulk of the scenes. If there is one, I would say the meaning behind this film is to showcase the need inside all of us for community and warmth of friendship in our lives. Pacino carries the film, well within his style, and every scene seems more bleak without him. But he's never gone for long. It's a wonderful film. Poignant and yet merry at the same time, despite some dark moments when the panic takes over.

Hereafter: Living After Loss

Clint Eastwood directs this self-produced film (penned by Peter Morgan) that stars Matt Damon as a psychic that begrudgingly weaves his way in an out of people's lives, struggling to find a sense of normalcy to his existence which is anything but pleasurable. There is a desperate quality to his desire as his own interpersonal relationships suffer because of his freakish ability to connect with the deceased whenever he physically touches someone.

The film opens as a breathtaking tsunami devastates the lives of many. We are shown the poignant survival of a French journalist (Cécile De France) that was out shopping for her children's presents during the crushing wave. While I wasn't as drawn to her plight in comparison to that of a young English boy, it is portrayed well and there is a sense of real-world suffering in her tale, though I do feel like her story is given too much focus.

Next, we see the pained reality of that young English boy (played by (Frankin McClaren) who abruptly loses his twin brother (George McClaren). The death of his brother is inadvertently caused by hoodlums during a trip to a pharmacy to aid their drug-addicted mother, who has her endearing moments of sobriety. I would have preferred to see a more elaborate depiction of the boy's struggle, even if the nature of additional scenes would be obvious.

Oddly, third-most featured is the star himself, Matt Damon, whose supernatural suffering serves as background music for the first half of the film. Only during the latter does he get some development. He shoos other desperate people away that have learned of his special "gift" which he values as a "curse" he can't get rid of. Though, still present beneath his own pain, lies an empathetic pity for people being tormented by the loss of their loved ones.

He has a brother (Jay Mohr) that looks after him but in a very human way fails to offer the support his brother truly desires as opposed to what he feels is the proper solution for his troubles. This rift culminates into an unfortunate incompatibility between the siblings.

The film's pace feels natural, never quick or distracting, and the film itself reflects a thorough sense of realism. Noting the controversial premise of physic ability, the filmmakers restrain it from being the main focus. I was drawn most deeply to McClaren's performance because he is faced with trauma so early in his life. Whereas the other characters are grown-up and more capable of solving their problems, he wallows in it and slowly finds his way. Overall, the film is optimistic and while it doesn't belittle the notion of suffering in people's lives, it recognizes trauma as being sudden and unexpected, while retaining a message that seeks to encourage its viewers to face their misery and quit ignoring it. It won't leave until it's resolved. Goodly, the film avoids any religious or political influence and avoids trying to answer the neverending question of, "What is the afterlife?"

Also, the film subtly states that people can enjoy some measure of joy in their lives by embracing a progressive response to grief. Other touches include the notion of "cheating death." It is minor but reminded of the Final Destination movies. Those who believe that the presumed presence of their deceased loved ones serves as a watchman should be able to relate to this slight focus. One scene in particular has the young English boy scrambling for his hat on the busy floor of the subway. By coincidental or paranormal influence, it is implied that his brother was looking after him, since the train he intended to board becomes victimized by a bomb. The most pronounced line from the trailer is, "If you're worried about being on your own, don't be. You're not." Many people believe the dearly departed exist around us in spirit, and this film features that notion. It is important to move forward, carrying our pain with us, instead of trying to leave behind. If we do, it'll chase us.