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• • •
. . . great events
April
JEFF BRIDGES JOHN GOODMAN
IWUMNI^MOM Stwt tVXtW mx TMMVMK)
“Dude” Lebowski,
mistaken for a millionaire
Lebowski, seeks restitution
for his ruined rug and
enlists his bowling buddies
to help get it.
PLC 180,
9pm, FREE
Square Dance
with Government Issue Orchestra
7:30pm workshop, dance at 8pm
$3 students, $5 general
Agate Hall (18th and Agate)
UO Cultural Forum
Friday
Night Flicks
The Big
Lebowski
Trashy Fashion Show at 8pm
The Carolines at 8:30pm
Samba Ja at 9:30pm
AAA Lawrence Hall Courtyard
All ages free • Drinks and food provided
April 12
Buzz Caffe Art Opening Reception
Kids art from EMU Child Care
Development Center • 4pm, FREE
http://culturalforum.uoregon.edu
GOT A STORY IDEA?
give us a call
at 346-5511.!<|
■ Film review
Distinct graphics, absurd fantasy
make sinful film one of years best
Director Robert Rodriguez pours audiences an
adrenaline-laced visual cocktail with, his film,'Sin City'
BY RYAN NYBURG
PULSE EDITOR
The best crime stories always have
a certain kind of dark poetry to them.
From Dashiell Hammettto Raymond
Chandlerto James Ellroy to a hundred
1950s film noirs, tales of evil deeds and
rotting societies have been told with
verbal grace and dark wit. "Sin City" is
a distillation of these tales, an absurdly
exaggerated romp through a dark fan
tasy world of crime, corruption and vio
lence. It is one of the best films of the
year so far and one of the most visually
distinct and engaging cinema experi
ences of the decade.
Based on the comic book series by
Frank Miller (who is given co-director
credit along with Robert Rodriguez,
with a small piece from Quentin Taran
tino), the film takes place in Basin City
and tells a series of interlocking tales
concerning cruel, violent anti-heroes.
In any other movie, these stories would
hardly add up to more than a stack of
B-movie rehashes with stilted dialog.
But the look of the film brings the twist
ed plot screaming to life.
Filmed in black and white with color
splattered across it like spilled paint,
the characters come off drawn in
broad strokes, larger-than-life images
thatfill the screen. Bruce Willis plays a
straight-line cop jailed for a crime he
did not commit, Clive Owen plays a
killer in hiding and Mickey Rourke
gives a powerhouse performance as
a nearly psychotic street fighter out to
avenge a murdered prostitute he
hardly knew.
The film's obvious absurdities be
come simple shading under the weight
of its storytelling power. The charac
ters take an ungodly amount of physi
cal abuse and walk away looking only
more hardened. The laws of physics
are disregarded with cheerful glee as
people crash through windows, leap
from cars and land on their feet every
time. It doesn't matter. The film is one
giant head rush, the pure definition of
suspended disbelief.
The highlight of the film is Rourke's
tale. His character hunts down those
who framed him forthe death of a
woman who showed him kindness be
fore she was murdered. He tears
through every scene he's in, almost lit
erally chewing the scenery apart
Make-up transforms his face to look as
if ft were carved in stone, covered in
layers of scar tissue and fractures. His
story ends as almost all of the film's
stories end: With a cynical form of jus
tice and a ending that even the most
bright-eyed optimist would be
stretched to call happy.
It could be said thatthis film has
pretty much redeemed Rodriguez for
his past failures. His "Spy Kids" movies
sunk into drivel and "Once Upon a Time
in Mexico" was a horrid piece of crap,
its only saving grace a particularly lu
natic Johnny Depp performance. But
by drawing from such original material,
Rodriguez seems to have found some
lost muse.
Much of the look of the film comes
from its incorporation of the look and
feel of the comic books. Everything is in
dark noir shadows and seems to take
place in a world that has never seen
sunlight. Shot against green screens,
the film is an almost entirely digital cre
ation. Unlike previous attempts atthis
particulartechnique, it actually works
here, in part because the unreality of
the digital backdrops only strengthens
the sense of this being a fantasy world.
This visual look also plays a hand in
the violence of the film, which is con
siderable. But with its glaring colors
and intended cartoonishness, nothing
in the film is too hard to swallow. What
remains is pure visceral filmmaking,
and one intense film-going experience.
ryannyburg@dailyemerald.com
Nyburg: A bizarre animation apocalypse
Continued from page 11
feasting on the only snack food I could
afford, i.e. water.
"Spike & Mike" seemed like just
the thing for me. A collection of cyni
cal, depraved cartoons created by
nerdy, disgusting little people in dark
rooms. I could so relate. I laughed,
cheered and cringed along with the
rest of the late night audience through
the festival. And then at the very end,
something came on the screen that I
could not have seen coming. Opening
with a title card that labeled the work
"Rejected," the film detailed the life
and mental breakdown of one Don
Hertzfeldt, an animator trying to get
his work aired on a number of com
mercial cable stations. His work is a
series of stick figure animations that
have little if anything to do with the
products they are supposedly adver
tising. The absurdly minimalist char
acters come on screen, utter twisted
non sequiturs and walk off, followed
by a picture of the product (complete
with labels such as "Now with lard.")
Finally, as the animator suffers a
complete mental deterioration (in
cluding a stint where he begins
drawing with his left hand instead of
his right) the cartoons become even
more violent and absurd. As he slips
into total madness, the cartoons go
down with him and a complete ani
mated apocalypse takes place. In
one oddly disturbing moment, a stick
figure bangs helplessly on the frame,
crinkling the paper with its small
black fist as it tries to escape.
This cartoon was a revelation.
Here was an artist as bitterly cyni
cal, as wonderfully imaginative and
as hopelessly untalented as any I
have ever encountered. This was
Dada. This was punk rock. In short,
this cartoon was the Boss.
Since this first introduction, I have
seen a number of Hertzfeldt's other
pieces. While none of them are the
equal of "Rejected," which has so
far remained his masterpiece, they
each are brilliant in their own way.
The deeply cynical "Ah, L'Amour" is
the story of a man attempting to woo
various women he is passing by.
Each woman meets his greetings
(which range from compliments
about their hairto queries about
what time it is) with rage and violent
retribution. Its closing punch line is a
wonderful kick in the gut. Though the
film could easily be taken as misogy
nist, its self-effacing humor and de
pressed world view move it a step
beyond such categorization.
Another great work from
Hertzfeldt is "Billy's Balloon," which
depicts a young boy mercilessly at
tacked by the balloon wrapped
around his wrist. The terror slowly
spreads into an ending much like the
lunatic Armageddon's of 1970s hor
ror films. The timing and camera
placement of the short is some of the
best Hertzfeldt has done to date. The
film is funny the same way watching
your grandma falling down a flight of
stairs is funny.
Also in the Hertzfeldt canon is a tril
ogy of shorts done for the first entry in
"The Animation Show," a touring fes
tival Hertzfeldt put together with Mike
Judge. If nothing else, the festival is
worth itfor these shorts alone. I have
yet to see two of Hertzfeldt's earlier
shorts, "Genre" and "Lily and Jim." I
have also not seen his most recent
work, "The Meaning of Life," though
these are all on my to-do list. Current
ly I am waiting for "Bitter Films Vol
ume One," a collection of Hertzfeldt's
work which comes out sometime lat
er this year.
What I enjoy about Hertzfeldt's
work is both the absolute minimal
ism and the personality that is con
veyed through it. His cartoons are
existential in their approach to reali
ty, creating a bizarre mental state
that is simple yet unique. He is the
Samuel Beckett of animation, and if
you get a chance to see anything by
him, take it immediately.
This column has been brought to
you by our friend, Caffeine.
ryannyburg@dailyemerald.com