Riese: A Girl and her Wolf
Riese: A Girl and her Wolf
I recently ran across a new web-only action/adventure production called Riese. The eponymous main character, played by Christine Chatelain, is fleeing from a tyrannical regime in the steampunk kingdom of Elysia. I like the Mad Max look of the costumes and the Dr. Horrible like semi-pro abandon with which the series is being edited and shot. The general premise, good kingdom overtaken by evil cult; heir(ess) on the run… is as old as the stories of Theseus and Oedipus. The show has an appealing during/post apocalypse sense which puts one in mind of A Boy and His Dog, Mad Max, especially the third installment, Beyond Thunderdome, V for Vendetta, Children of Men, The Handmaid’s Tale and many others. However it is a nice place from which to explore good versus evil, individual versus society and such tropes. The heroine has at least one supernatural seeming ability: to keep her eyeliner and eyeshadow lipstick and foundation pristine and unsmeared despite being pursued through the woods while wearing goggles and bleeding from a side wound and then engaging in a rather clumsy knife fight with several Mad-Maxian attackers.
I am generally happy with people taking their vision directly to web rather than letting it be ground up and homogenized by the “entertainment” industry.
Whether it be “Star Trek Phase II”, Star Wars Revelations, Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog, lonelygirl15, or the semi-professional docu-humor of Michael Moore or Morgan Spurlock, such efforts can be good even if writing/acting/scripting/editing are not all that they could be because they are fun and true and come from the heart.
So bon chance to Riese. Here’s hoping it is not too horrible.
Copyright © 2009 Henry Edward Hardy
‘Children of Men’ is a Thoughtful, Provocative Science Fiction Drama
‘Children of Men’ is a Thoughtful, Provocative Science Fiction Drama
Children of Men
Universal Studios, 2007 (Widescreen Edition)
by Henry Edward Hardy
Children of Men is a brutal and provocative vision of modern society stressed beyond its breaking point. It is 2027, and no children have been born for 18 years. Theo Faron (Clive Owen) is a civil servant and former radical now working for the totalitarian civil administration in Britain. Theo is played with shell-shocked stupor by Owen. Theo fails to react visibly as a nearby shop blows up and a woman runs out screaming, holding the remains of her arm in her remaining hand. Owen’s best friend is broadly portrayed by Michael Caine, who channels John Lennon in his character of aging hippie “Jasper”.
Theo’s life of quiet desperation is shattered when his ex-wife-turned revolutionary, Julian (played by Julianne Moore), has him kidnapped and bribes him to assist in smuggling a young woman out of the country. Britain stands alone as much of the world descends into terrorism and anarchy–but it is a future Britain with much in common with dystopian novels such as George Orwell’s 1984.
Children of Men has much of the immediacy of a hand-held camera or a first-person view. A six minute sequence, apparently filmed continuously, represents the harshest and most realistic-appearing combat footage in cinema since Saving Private Ryan. The computer effects are undetectable; everything looks harshly, painfully real.
Children of Men is full of eclectic references, from Pink Floyd’s Animals to Banksey to Picasso to The Godfather to TS Elliot. When Theo and his companions enter a immigrant detention facility, one man in a metal cage stands in the Christ-like pose of the hooded man from the infamous Abu Ghraib photos. They are inducted to the detention facility through a metal series of aisles like a cattle corral over which hangs a sign reading “Homeland Security”.
Children of Men can be viewed as a futuristic road movie, a dystopian science fiction parable, or as a harsh and stinging attack on the repressive anti-terrorist and anti-immigrant policies of today. It is refreshing to see an action scene in which the hero or anti-hero doesn’t pick up a gun or use violence to resolve the situation. Director Alfonso Cuarón has produced a cataclysmic tour-de-force worthy of consideration and repeated viewing.
Copyright © 2007 Henry Edward Hardy
A version of this review was previously published by Current.
The Perfect Beauty in Ghost in the Shell 2: Innocence
The Perfect Beauty in
Ghost in the Shell 2: Innocence
by Henry Edward Hardy
Ghost in the Shell 2: Innocence (Inosensu: Kokaku Kidotai, 2004) works both as a cyberpunk no-holds-barred shoot-’em-up and as a philosophical exploration of the nature of consciousness, memory, identity and what it means to be human in an artificial world. In a series of baffling crimes, an obscure series of android sex-dolls has developed a malfunction: they have started to kill their masters. When the military cyborg Batô responds to a crime in progress, he finds two murdered cops. A painfully beautiful geisha-doll android cradles the cop’s decapitated head in her arms like a baby. With perfect beauty and efficiency she tries to murder Batô as well. When he fells her with one punch of his android knuckles, she folds like a broken toy and begs him, “Help me”, then malfunctions and explodes in a most alarming fashion.
The film is visually stunning.The washed-out, grey, flat cell-animated anime characters contrast with the brilliant, super-real, anamorphically skewed candy-like cathedral light of the world portrayed through their cybernetically-enabled senses. The story is told through action and inaction, silence and violence. Much of the very laconic, cool dialogue is an obvious reference to film noir, as are the 1950s-era automobiles.
The geisha dolls are based on a series of pre-World War II dolls made by German surrealist Hans Bellmer, who made them partly as a protest against the Nazi ideals of physical culture, and partly out of an innate sense of sensuality and idealized beauty. As with Bellmer’s works, this ambiguity, that anything perfect cannot be anything human, is central to the film.
The protagonist, Major Motoko Kusanagi, is known at first in this movie only as a memory, a cipher. She disappeared years ago on a mission detailed in the Ghost in the Shell manga by Masamune Shirô and movie of the same name by Mamoru Oshii. Only her partner, Batô, continues to believe she is alive on the Net. We learn that what makes Major Kusanagi and Batô human, is that they love. Their sense of companionship, loyalty and identity with all life is what endows the shell of the body, whatever it may be, with a “ghost” or soul.
Google Image results for Ghost in the Shell: Innocence
Ghost in the Shell: Innocence (IMDB)
Ghost in the Shell: Innocence (Rotten Tomatoes)
Ghost in the Shell: Innocence (wikipedia)
Hans Bellmer (wikipedia)
A version of this article appeared previously in Current Magazine and on Electric Current
Copyright © 2005, 2006, 2007 Henry Edward Hardy
Between Eraserhead and The Grapes of Wrath : The American Astronaut
Between Eraserhead and The Grapes of Wrath dances
The American Astronaut
by Henry Edward Hardy
The American Astronaut (2001) is surely the best, worst, and only, black-and-white comedy-western-sci-fi rockabilly punk surrealistic musical. Think of it as one part Luis Bruñel’s Un chien andalou, one part David Lynch’s Eraserhead, one part John Carpenter’s Dark Star, three parts punk-shockabilly music video, one part Devo show, one part Busby Berkeley extravaganza, one part John Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath plus liberal doses of Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon. Now add a cat, a cloned woman in a box, the Blueberry Pirate, the Boy Who Actually Saw a Woman’s Breast and a mad Professor who kills for no reason and you have the basic ingredients for this unique film.
The American Astronaut is the work of Cory McAbee and his band “The Billy Nayer Show.” The music is polymorphous, ranging from chants to rockabilly to hardcore post-punk. Rocco Sisto goes far over the top as Professor Hess, a Doctor Strangelove-like character as William Burroughs or Charles Bukowski might write him. The Professor pursues bushy side-burned protagonist Samuel Curtis (McAbee) and his companions throughout the dilapidated bar, mining colony and space barn of this rather minimal solar system.
The special effects and props in The American Astronaut are intentionally on the level of Ed Wood’s Plan 9 from Outer Space or Robot Monster. This is a boy’s universe; women are abstracted to the succinct tale of a woman’s breast as told by the Boy: “It was soft and round.” The film has a disconcerting but somewhat charming nastiness to it. Veteran character actor Tom Aldredge’s long, spellbinding recitation of the old saw about the “Hertz Donut” is weirder and creepier in its funny-not-funniness than anything this side of The Aristocrats.
The 2005 video release special features section includes storyboards, promotional art, and a talk-through by McAbee during a live showing of the film in a New York bar. Also included is the peculiar chant, “Don’t you fear the Yeti’s of Rio? No, no, no, no, no, no!”
The American Astronaut is at least half-witty, and the production numbers are spectacular in a grimy way. The high contrast black-and-white cinematography is outstanding, and the music is energetic and entertaining. This very strange film is worth a look for those with a sense of humor and an open mind.
The American Astronaut is now available on DVD. For more information, visit http://www.americanastronaut.com.
A version of this review was previously published in Current Magazine and at Electric Current.
The American Astronaut
The American Astronaut (IMDB)
The American Astronaut (Rotten Tomatoes)
Copyright © 2006, 2007 Henry Edward Hardy












