Cyclo

The Best

Cyclo – There is not a wasted image in this
film from Vietnamese director Hung Tran Anh (The Scent of Green
Papaya). Scenes of transfixing beauty and startling brutality blend
seamlessly to form an hallucinatory narrative, an almost psychotic
meditation on a culture and people struggling through their capitalist
evolution. Hung is not so concerned with plot mechanicsthe story,
about a young cyclo (pronounced SEEK-low) driver who is forced
into a gang to keep his job, is disjointed and at times confusing.
But the director uses color like an abstract expressionist; he
prefers bold, extreme close-ups to standard wide shots. He will
someday make a masterpiece. Cyclo comes pretty close to being one.

Small Faces – This Scottish film, directed
by Gillies MacKinnon and written by the director and his brother,
Billy, also takes a sobering look at a young man lured into gang
life. The elliptical story takes place in 1968 and is anchored
by the remarkable performance of Iain Robertson, a teenager at
war with his older brother and his hormones. MacKinnon’s camera
moves with a mesmerizing glide; he discovers angles that depict
a working class world that is both monstrous and, at times, strangely
alluring. An underrated gem.

Casino – Paranoia, treachery, desire. Martin
Scor- sese works this territory like a pit boss. Casino was criticized
for its length and repetitiveness, but that is exactly why it worked
for me. It played like a long night at the blackjack table, an
epic descent into the base arena of greed, where deceit can be
exposed with a simple wink. Robert De Niro, Sharon Stone, and Joe
Pesci are a trio of lowlifes who get to play dress-up until they
begin to tumble, step-by-inexorable-step. Scorsese tracks their
fall with a trance-like precision while getting powerful performances,
especially from De Niro, who plays the last hour of the film in
a bathrobe and slippers.

Dead Man – Speaking of trances, Jim Jarmusch
made the cinematic equivalent of Tuvan throat-singing with this
gorgeous black-and-white western. It’s a deeply mystical exploration
of identity and death, rooted in a wintry, wooded landscape, grounded
by the mesmerizing junkyard growl of Neil Young’s guitar. A film
of exotic power.
Breaking the Waves

Lone Star – John Sayles writes so well that
you believe everything his characters say; you believe their
life stories, you understand their reasons without having them
pointed out to you. Chris Cooper and Elizabeth Pena are excellent
as tentative lovers separated by the past, by prejudices, and
by an odd paternity. They unravel a Texas community’s secret
history while attempting to hold together the fragile present.
A mature, subtle, engrossing film from one of our best filmmakers.