lullabies for little criminals by Heather O’Neill
A disturbing novel, creepy at times, as it recounts in first-person narrative the exploits of Baby, a twelve year old girl who is navigating a childhood more akin to a minefield laced with bombs and other dangers presented by the adult world. For the majority of the novel, the narrator’s voice is pitch-perfect, presenting Baby’s emotions and observations unfiltered by any mature viewpoint. The reader is able to revel in any delight she is able to experience, even when it is an event most would take for granted. We are drawn into her world, reading with hope that she’ll be able to survive the latest setback, yet knowing that she doesn’t have much a chance. At points, I dreaded to turn the page, contemplated peering between fingers to obscure my reading, if only this would delay the horrible events that I was sure were about to occur.
Yet the horror doesn’t quite descend in the manner the reader expects. That is the brilliance of this novel’s voice. Baby’s descent into premature adulthood is told her in own voice, free from any moralistic waving of hands. She knows when she does something wrong, when it’s bad, but doesn’t understand why. She’s never really been taught any values other than what it takes to survive; after all, her father is a junkie who can barely take care of himself. Street people, junkies, pimps and prostitutes - these are the role models for Baby and the other children that inhabit this novel. They raise themselves, imitate the violence that they see, glorify the lies and hypocrisy that they see in society, without comprehending any of it. They are street-smart and have all the freedom that teenagers could ever dream of, yet they lust for the fabled security of a ‘normal’ childhood.
Occasionally, the author tosses in an observation or an opinion from what seems to be an older version of the narrator. These insertions are problematic, jarring one out of the story without adding any retrospective value. There was no clue regarding how old this other narrator was, or how these experiences had affected her.
O’Neill’s novel describes one way in which the deviants, the criminals, the lost and forsaken of our society are incubated. The system ignores these children until it’s forced to deal with them. Sometimes it can provide some improvement in care. For example, Baby’s brief stay in a foster home is a previously unknown experience in stability. She was lucky in this instance. Conversely, a stay at a juvenile institution, a prison for kids, simply serves to reinforce her destructive lack of self-esteem. Moreover, it labels her in the eyes of society as a ‘system kid’. She will stray down the path that was pre-destined.
Children are resilient. They are never truly lost, not matter how forsaken. Until one day, they are lost. They become adults, expected to take care of themselves, to fit in, to become productive members of society. Even if they’ve never been taught how.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Breach
Breach
Breach is a film based on the true story of the arrest of Robert Hansenn, a senior FBI agent, for the treasonous crime of espionage, the selling of secrets to his Soviet (later Russian) handlers. The story is told from the perspective of Eric O’Neill, a junior computer analyst for the FBI, who was surreptitiously assigned the task of spying on his new boss, agent Hansenn, for supposed practices of sexual deviancy. O’Neill figures out that the story fed to him is a cover and as such, discovers that he has been thrust into the middle of a high-profile agency investigation into Hansenn’s exploits as a Russian mole.
The film craftily builds suspense despite knowledge of the ultimate ending; the viewer realizes that Hansenn will be caught, just not how. More importantly, we don’t know if O’Neill will survive his undercover role.
Actor Chris Cooper portrays the devoutly Catholic, tightly-wound Hansenn as a man made arrogant by his superior intelligence, ruled by an overfed ego, and about to explode out of a life of hypocrisy and intricately layered lies. Hansenn is suspiciously paranoid, careful to the extreme, a super-agent who has survived twenty-five years of clever deception. O’Neill, played by actor Ryan Phillippe, and the other FBI agents walk a tense tightrope as they maneuver ways to search the suspect’s car and download the incriminating content of his palm pilot.
The writers of the film script make an attempt to understand the motivations of Hansenn. Why would such a man, intelligent, apparently moral and devout, dedicated to family and country, turn to treason? He accepted fairly large amounts of cash and jewelry in payment for his betrayal, yet that did not seem to have been the major factor. Perhaps it was a misguided patriotism, a disgust at the bureaucracy and incompetence that appears rampant in the FBI and other government institutions. But mostly, it appeared to be a matter of ego, a way of proving to the world that he was smarter than his colleagues, that his efficiently ruthless mode of operating would always be superior.
The film does subtly highlight the bureaucratic inefficiencies and the self-serving turf wars that hinder effective cooperation of the government agencies responsible for public security. A pallet of unopened Dell computers lay unattended and unused in a hallway. Inter-agency meetings are awkwardly arranged, then canceled at a whim. Egos are bruised, careers are advanced in the shooting range.
This internal investigation within the FBI ended in February, 2001, just months before September, 2001. One wonders about the many resources it consumed. What might these agents have been investigating otherwise?
It is unfortunately coincidental that another FBI agent named O’Neill, quit his job in that same time frame. The story of John O’Neill is also well-known. An expert on international terrorism with a focus on Osama Bin Laden, he became frustrated with the bureaucratic impedances to the performance of his duties and retired to become head of security at the World Trade Center. He died on September 11, 2001.
Breach is a film based on the true story of the arrest of Robert Hansenn, a senior FBI agent, for the treasonous crime of espionage, the selling of secrets to his Soviet (later Russian) handlers. The story is told from the perspective of Eric O’Neill, a junior computer analyst for the FBI, who was surreptitiously assigned the task of spying on his new boss, agent Hansenn, for supposed practices of sexual deviancy. O’Neill figures out that the story fed to him is a cover and as such, discovers that he has been thrust into the middle of a high-profile agency investigation into Hansenn’s exploits as a Russian mole.
The film craftily builds suspense despite knowledge of the ultimate ending; the viewer realizes that Hansenn will be caught, just not how. More importantly, we don’t know if O’Neill will survive his undercover role.
Actor Chris Cooper portrays the devoutly Catholic, tightly-wound Hansenn as a man made arrogant by his superior intelligence, ruled by an overfed ego, and about to explode out of a life of hypocrisy and intricately layered lies. Hansenn is suspiciously paranoid, careful to the extreme, a super-agent who has survived twenty-five years of clever deception. O’Neill, played by actor Ryan Phillippe, and the other FBI agents walk a tense tightrope as they maneuver ways to search the suspect’s car and download the incriminating content of his palm pilot.
The writers of the film script make an attempt to understand the motivations of Hansenn. Why would such a man, intelligent, apparently moral and devout, dedicated to family and country, turn to treason? He accepted fairly large amounts of cash and jewelry in payment for his betrayal, yet that did not seem to have been the major factor. Perhaps it was a misguided patriotism, a disgust at the bureaucracy and incompetence that appears rampant in the FBI and other government institutions. But mostly, it appeared to be a matter of ego, a way of proving to the world that he was smarter than his colleagues, that his efficiently ruthless mode of operating would always be superior.
The film does subtly highlight the bureaucratic inefficiencies and the self-serving turf wars that hinder effective cooperation of the government agencies responsible for public security. A pallet of unopened Dell computers lay unattended and unused in a hallway. Inter-agency meetings are awkwardly arranged, then canceled at a whim. Egos are bruised, careers are advanced in the shooting range.
This internal investigation within the FBI ended in February, 2001, just months before September, 2001. One wonders about the many resources it consumed. What might these agents have been investigating otherwise?
It is unfortunately coincidental that another FBI agent named O’Neill, quit his job in that same time frame. The story of John O’Neill is also well-known. An expert on international terrorism with a focus on Osama Bin Laden, he became frustrated with the bureaucratic impedances to the performance of his duties and retired to become head of security at the World Trade Center. He died on September 11, 2001.
Friday, August 24, 2007
You Shall Know Our Velocity by Dave Eggers
You Shall Know Our Velocity by Dave Eggers
The novel captures the reader from the first line. The narrator, Will Chmlielewski, reveals that he’s already dead. But his premature demise isn’t related to the story that follows.
The prose is elegant and beautiful, describing a series of events and motivations that could only make sense in the absurdly real universe the author creates. The protagonist and his sidekick navigate a world full of eccentricities and characters that resonate in a profound, off-kilter and intensely humorous fashion. They are trying to give away $80,000, a sum that Will unexpectedly earned by supplying a likeness of his silhouette to a corporate advertising campaign. This task is rendered more difficult than I could possibly imagine. Through it all, Will contemplates the meaning of loss, memory, friendship, family and life, among other things. Meanwhile his friend, Hand, urges continuous action, the better not to think, the perfect anti-heroic role model for the ADD-afflicted.
A shift in narrator, however, forces the reader to re-evaluate what this novel means. If it meant anything. Or what the truth is in our disturbed world.
This is the must-read novel for a self-absorbed generation.
The novel captures the reader from the first line. The narrator, Will Chmlielewski, reveals that he’s already dead. But his premature demise isn’t related to the story that follows.
The prose is elegant and beautiful, describing a series of events and motivations that could only make sense in the absurdly real universe the author creates. The protagonist and his sidekick navigate a world full of eccentricities and characters that resonate in a profound, off-kilter and intensely humorous fashion. They are trying to give away $80,000, a sum that Will unexpectedly earned by supplying a likeness of his silhouette to a corporate advertising campaign. This task is rendered more difficult than I could possibly imagine. Through it all, Will contemplates the meaning of loss, memory, friendship, family and life, among other things. Meanwhile his friend, Hand, urges continuous action, the better not to think, the perfect anti-heroic role model for the ADD-afflicted.
A shift in narrator, however, forces the reader to re-evaluate what this novel means. If it meant anything. Or what the truth is in our disturbed world.
This is the must-read novel for a self-absorbed generation.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Paris, Je T’aime
Paris, Je T’aime
An eclectic collection of directors and writers get together to present their widely-varied takes on the City of Love in a series of five to ten minutes vignettes.
A precious parking spot and a fainting spell conspire to bring two lonely people together. The dialogue sparks and engages in this scene that pokes fun at the twin themes of opportunity and risk.
A guy blows off his misogynist friends to come to the aid of a pretty, loosely veiled Muslim woman. The two exchange meaningful and wistful glances as the boy chases after the girl in literal fashion. It’s not difficult at all to believe that the boy (symbolizing France) can ignore society’s xenophobia and be attracted to this girl. Unfortunately, it was more difficult to believe that the girl’s (grand)father could be so accepting of the boy’s interest. But perhaps that is my prejudice showing.
A beautiful young man tries to seduce another beautiful young man, his one-sided poetic dialogue becoming increasingly aggressive and desperate as he is silently rebuffed. The reason for the object of affection’s lack of response is revealed to underscore the divide that language can affect.
The acting talents of Steve Buscemi are showcased as he wordlessly plays a clueless American toyed with by a cleverly arrogant French couple. The Coen brothers show that love is not always what it seems in Paris.
Another poignant take on the social divide between rich and poor, between native and immigrant, as a Latino nanny is forced to leave her own infant in a daycare to travel across the city to tend to her employer’s baby.
The surreal side of Paris is explored, as a hapless salesman visits a Chinatown hair salon with unexpected and inexplicable results.
A man must choose between taking care of his ailing wife or absconding with the quintessential Parisienne mistress.
Grief takes the strange form of a cowboy as a mother struggles to deal with the unending depths of loss.
A small boy playing the actor-narrator steals the scene as he explains how his parents met and fell in love. The difficulty of being a mime in Paris, of being different, of being incredibly annoying, is examined.
Nick Nolte puffs on too many cigarettes in an overly clever attempt to mislead the audience. He’s not really a dirty old man, okay, he’s a nice dirty old man.
An actress’ quest to get high goes nowhere in an appropriate and forgettable fashion.
One more take on the immigration issues in France as an African man’s request for coffee is slowly revealed, in flashback form, to be more than it seems.
Bob Hoskins portrays a likeable pervert trying to get lucky in a sleazy strip club - oh, how far one will go to keep love alive!
A backpacking tourist played by the always wide-eyed Elijah Wood finds the gothic side of Parisienne love.
Celebrity hunting in a Paris cemetery takes its toll on one’s sense of humour, and ultimately, on love.
A short cut shows that love is not always blind. Or is it?
Two old actors meet in a Paris café to finalize their divorce and discuss their young lovers in what is clearly meant to be a snappy, funny repartee, but falls way short of that. Gerard Depardieu makes his obligatory appearance in this scene that he co-directed.
Another sad-sack American tourist narrates her lonely Parisienne holiday in badly-accented French, wrapping up the film in a somewhat annoying but surprising affecting manner.
An eclectic collection of directors and writers get together to present their widely-varied takes on the City of Love in a series of five to ten minutes vignettes.
A precious parking spot and a fainting spell conspire to bring two lonely people together. The dialogue sparks and engages in this scene that pokes fun at the twin themes of opportunity and risk.
A guy blows off his misogynist friends to come to the aid of a pretty, loosely veiled Muslim woman. The two exchange meaningful and wistful glances as the boy chases after the girl in literal fashion. It’s not difficult at all to believe that the boy (symbolizing France) can ignore society’s xenophobia and be attracted to this girl. Unfortunately, it was more difficult to believe that the girl’s (grand)father could be so accepting of the boy’s interest. But perhaps that is my prejudice showing.
A beautiful young man tries to seduce another beautiful young man, his one-sided poetic dialogue becoming increasingly aggressive and desperate as he is silently rebuffed. The reason for the object of affection’s lack of response is revealed to underscore the divide that language can affect.
The acting talents of Steve Buscemi are showcased as he wordlessly plays a clueless American toyed with by a cleverly arrogant French couple. The Coen brothers show that love is not always what it seems in Paris.
Another poignant take on the social divide between rich and poor, between native and immigrant, as a Latino nanny is forced to leave her own infant in a daycare to travel across the city to tend to her employer’s baby.
The surreal side of Paris is explored, as a hapless salesman visits a Chinatown hair salon with unexpected and inexplicable results.
A man must choose between taking care of his ailing wife or absconding with the quintessential Parisienne mistress.
Grief takes the strange form of a cowboy as a mother struggles to deal with the unending depths of loss.
A small boy playing the actor-narrator steals the scene as he explains how his parents met and fell in love. The difficulty of being a mime in Paris, of being different, of being incredibly annoying, is examined.
Nick Nolte puffs on too many cigarettes in an overly clever attempt to mislead the audience. He’s not really a dirty old man, okay, he’s a nice dirty old man.
An actress’ quest to get high goes nowhere in an appropriate and forgettable fashion.
One more take on the immigration issues in France as an African man’s request for coffee is slowly revealed, in flashback form, to be more than it seems.
Bob Hoskins portrays a likeable pervert trying to get lucky in a sleazy strip club - oh, how far one will go to keep love alive!
A backpacking tourist played by the always wide-eyed Elijah Wood finds the gothic side of Parisienne love.
Celebrity hunting in a Paris cemetery takes its toll on one’s sense of humour, and ultimately, on love.
A short cut shows that love is not always blind. Or is it?
Two old actors meet in a Paris café to finalize their divorce and discuss their young lovers in what is clearly meant to be a snappy, funny repartee, but falls way short of that. Gerard Depardieu makes his obligatory appearance in this scene that he co-directed.
Another sad-sack American tourist narrates her lonely Parisienne holiday in badly-accented French, wrapping up the film in a somewhat annoying but surprising affecting manner.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
The Secret Life of Words
The Secret Life of Words
A movie about the incredible damage that human beings can inflict on each other, and how the simple act of honest communication can apply a restorative, perhaps even curative, balm upon the psyche. Sarah Polley plays the lead role with convincing restraint. Her natural beauty is downplayed but cannot be completely suppressed. Her character, Hannah, is introduced as a hearing-impaired factory worker who lives an obviously dreary and severely regimented life. The clues to the underlying emotional damage mount up. She eats alone, the same monastic meal, chicken nuggets with white rice and a piece of apple, all the time. Her posture is slumped and defeated, she moves with an almost lifeless precision, she turns her hearing aid off to shut out the noise of the world.
The impetus to change comes via a complaint from her trade union colleagues that forces her to take an undesired vacation. She travels to a British seaside resort where she, by chance, overhears a phone conversation. The man on the phone needs to find a nurse to take care of an injured worker on an oil rig. Hannah, desperate to avoid her vacation time, volunteers to be that nurse.
Of course, it is a quite a leap to believe that this emotionally fractured woman would take this impetuous plunge into a world she knows nothing about. Indeed, the discrepancies that this film presents, both large and small, gradually eat into its believability. Hannah is hearing-impaired, yet never seems to have any problem hearing. She displays some form of obsessive-compulsive disorder related to a phobia of dirt and germs, yet seems to integrate into the world of oil rigs and patient care without a second thought. She is hired as a nurse and helicoptered off to the oil rig with nary a check on her nursing credentials - we later find out she was a nursing student. More importantly, considering what is later revealed about her past, Hannah is willing to jump into the isolated environment of an oil rig, to be the only women in a population of lonely men.
Tim Robbins plays the role of the patient (named Josef), an especially difficult one given his inability to see or move. For some reason (perhaps to give the actor more room to act), the patient’s eyes are not bandaged. However, in the scene near the end of the movie where he regains his sight, another nurse is shown removing the bandages...
Josef must form a connection with his recalcitrant nurse with words alone. He is portrayed as a charismatic person, a bit of a womanizer, though one who avoids commitments. His injuries are self-inflicted, both literally and figuratively. He tried to save his suicidal friend’s life by plucking him for a fire; he also feels responsible for the suicide - he had seduced his friend’s wife.
So Hannah tends to his wounds and listens to his secrets. Even though it is obvious where this is going, the scene where Hannah reveals her secrets to him was shocking, both visually and emotionally. It reveals a brutality of war that is seldom talked about. Torture and rape is used as a tactic to instill fear in the populace, and to strip away the fragile morality of the combatants. Her confession scene is powerful, it might have been better to end the film soon after. However, the film makers wanted more than that - they force a scene with Hannah’s therapist, a scene that preaches more than reveals.
One final note about the young voice that narrates occasionally. The accent is difficult to understand and leaves the viewer straining to listen. The narrator is Hannah’s friend that didn’t survive. It is symbolic of all victims of wartime rape and torture. The voice of Hannah’s friend is the voice of Hannah’s youthful innocence that’s been carved away and sacrificed to the gods of war.
A movie about the incredible damage that human beings can inflict on each other, and how the simple act of honest communication can apply a restorative, perhaps even curative, balm upon the psyche. Sarah Polley plays the lead role with convincing restraint. Her natural beauty is downplayed but cannot be completely suppressed. Her character, Hannah, is introduced as a hearing-impaired factory worker who lives an obviously dreary and severely regimented life. The clues to the underlying emotional damage mount up. She eats alone, the same monastic meal, chicken nuggets with white rice and a piece of apple, all the time. Her posture is slumped and defeated, she moves with an almost lifeless precision, she turns her hearing aid off to shut out the noise of the world.
The impetus to change comes via a complaint from her trade union colleagues that forces her to take an undesired vacation. She travels to a British seaside resort where she, by chance, overhears a phone conversation. The man on the phone needs to find a nurse to take care of an injured worker on an oil rig. Hannah, desperate to avoid her vacation time, volunteers to be that nurse.
Of course, it is a quite a leap to believe that this emotionally fractured woman would take this impetuous plunge into a world she knows nothing about. Indeed, the discrepancies that this film presents, both large and small, gradually eat into its believability. Hannah is hearing-impaired, yet never seems to have any problem hearing. She displays some form of obsessive-compulsive disorder related to a phobia of dirt and germs, yet seems to integrate into the world of oil rigs and patient care without a second thought. She is hired as a nurse and helicoptered off to the oil rig with nary a check on her nursing credentials - we later find out she was a nursing student. More importantly, considering what is later revealed about her past, Hannah is willing to jump into the isolated environment of an oil rig, to be the only women in a population of lonely men.
Tim Robbins plays the role of the patient (named Josef), an especially difficult one given his inability to see or move. For some reason (perhaps to give the actor more room to act), the patient’s eyes are not bandaged. However, in the scene near the end of the movie where he regains his sight, another nurse is shown removing the bandages...
Josef must form a connection with his recalcitrant nurse with words alone. He is portrayed as a charismatic person, a bit of a womanizer, though one who avoids commitments. His injuries are self-inflicted, both literally and figuratively. He tried to save his suicidal friend’s life by plucking him for a fire; he also feels responsible for the suicide - he had seduced his friend’s wife.
So Hannah tends to his wounds and listens to his secrets. Even though it is obvious where this is going, the scene where Hannah reveals her secrets to him was shocking, both visually and emotionally. It reveals a brutality of war that is seldom talked about. Torture and rape is used as a tactic to instill fear in the populace, and to strip away the fragile morality of the combatants. Her confession scene is powerful, it might have been better to end the film soon after. However, the film makers wanted more than that - they force a scene with Hannah’s therapist, a scene that preaches more than reveals.
One final note about the young voice that narrates occasionally. The accent is difficult to understand and leaves the viewer straining to listen. The narrator is Hannah’s friend that didn’t survive. It is symbolic of all victims of wartime rape and torture. The voice of Hannah’s friend is the voice of Hannah’s youthful innocence that’s been carved away and sacrificed to the gods of war.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Anthem of a Reluctant Prophet by Joanne Proulx
Anthem of a Reluctant Prophet by Joanne Proulx
A coming of age novel with a twist. The teenage narrator’s ability to foretell and somehow experience the death of others is used as a metaphor for the pain and loneliness of adolescence, as a symbol of the inner belief that one is alone in the world, naked and vulnerable, full of nasty faults and hidden deficiencies. The author does an excellent job, for the most part, of painting a believable picture of teen angst. The protagonist, Luke Hunter, sometimes appears wiser than his years, but perhaps those were just flashes of insight that everyone occasionally experiences.
The plot line of the novel moves along nicely, with just enough surprises to keep the reader interested and engaged. The author uses humour effectively to balance some of the meatier, emotion-laden scenes. Luke’s relationship with his best friend, the semi-mysterious character of Fang, provides the most pivotal and moving conflict. In contrast, Luke’s potential girlfriend is perhaps the most cliched character in the novel - maybe because she’s an enigma from the narrator’s point of view.
The one not-quite-right part of the novel was, in my opinion, the manner in which the character expresses his interest of music. Luke catalogues the music of the day in a way that felt too much like the author showing off her research skills. And of course, these references have already dated the novel. Like the Smashing Pumpkins are so late 90's, okay, even if they’re on tour again.
A coming of age novel with a twist. The teenage narrator’s ability to foretell and somehow experience the death of others is used as a metaphor for the pain and loneliness of adolescence, as a symbol of the inner belief that one is alone in the world, naked and vulnerable, full of nasty faults and hidden deficiencies. The author does an excellent job, for the most part, of painting a believable picture of teen angst. The protagonist, Luke Hunter, sometimes appears wiser than his years, but perhaps those were just flashes of insight that everyone occasionally experiences.
The plot line of the novel moves along nicely, with just enough surprises to keep the reader interested and engaged. The author uses humour effectively to balance some of the meatier, emotion-laden scenes. Luke’s relationship with his best friend, the semi-mysterious character of Fang, provides the most pivotal and moving conflict. In contrast, Luke’s potential girlfriend is perhaps the most cliched character in the novel - maybe because she’s an enigma from the narrator’s point of view.
The one not-quite-right part of the novel was, in my opinion, the manner in which the character expresses his interest of music. Luke catalogues the music of the day in a way that felt too much like the author showing off her research skills. And of course, these references have already dated the novel. Like the Smashing Pumpkins are so late 90's, okay, even if they’re on tour again.
Friday, August 17, 2007
The Bourne Ultimatum
The Bourne Ultimatum
The tale of a spy who can’t remember. Jason Bourne is on a quest to find out who he really is and how he became a cold-blooded assassin. This is the third and supposedly final installment of the Bourne saga, and it is the grittiest yet. The thrill of the chase dominates the movie, as highlighted by an adrenaline-pumping, heart-stopping dash across the rooftops of Tangiers. Indeed, this movie uses a sized-down globe effectively as its setting, as Bourne hops from continent to continent, oblivious of post-911 counter-terror restrictions. Bourne is played as a super-hero (actually more of a super-anti-hero), able to jump borders with a single unobstructed leap, a sort of Jack Bauer on steroids. His dark side trails him like a ex-lover bent on revenge, showing its face in the form of flashbacks that surface at inconvenient plot points, ratcheting up the suspense factor whenever Bourne has a moment to spare.
Bourne’s identity search is complicated by his former employer’s wish to eliminate all evidence of his existence. A super-secret division of the CIA had been formed with the mandate to wage the ‘war on terror’. And the head of this division is portrayed with the stereotypical ruthlessness of amoral evil. The message is that America needed the freedom to kill purported terrorists, to bypass the overly bureaucratic rule of law, in order to save ‘American lives.’ Of course, this power is ultimately corruptive - the CIA head practically froths at the mouth in his lust to kill and cover up the mess they’ve created. Bourne is the living symbol of the underlying fallacy, the need to create a pre-programmed killing machine to save the concept of freedom.
The Bourne novels were written in the 1980's by Robert Ludlum. The screenwriters have clearly updated its themes to modern-day concerns, such as the virtually omniscient surveillance capabilities provided by London’s ubiquitous close-circuit cameras. Cleverly, the CIA is able to monitor, and even control, these video-feeds live and in colour, no doubt contributing to the paranoia of the tinfoil-hat crowd. Matt Damon is appropriately buff and stoic as the amnesiac assassin Jason Bourne, while David Strathairn plays up the bloodthirsty CIA Director Noah Vosen. Julia Stiles does another turn as the damsel in distress, albeit with a surprising lack of dialogue as she repeatedly stares wide-eyed while Jason plots and kills with equal ease.
The film delivers on what it promised, a suspenseful thrill ride through the secret world of anti-terrorist spies and assassins. It is short on plot and character development, instead filling the screen with non-stop action. It makes the most of its exotic locales, while its hand-held camera style alternately annoys with excessive shaking and thrills by putting the audience directly into scenes of speeding vehicles and crashing fists.
The tale of a spy who can’t remember. Jason Bourne is on a quest to find out who he really is and how he became a cold-blooded assassin. This is the third and supposedly final installment of the Bourne saga, and it is the grittiest yet. The thrill of the chase dominates the movie, as highlighted by an adrenaline-pumping, heart-stopping dash across the rooftops of Tangiers. Indeed, this movie uses a sized-down globe effectively as its setting, as Bourne hops from continent to continent, oblivious of post-911 counter-terror restrictions. Bourne is played as a super-hero (actually more of a super-anti-hero), able to jump borders with a single unobstructed leap, a sort of Jack Bauer on steroids. His dark side trails him like a ex-lover bent on revenge, showing its face in the form of flashbacks that surface at inconvenient plot points, ratcheting up the suspense factor whenever Bourne has a moment to spare.
Bourne’s identity search is complicated by his former employer’s wish to eliminate all evidence of his existence. A super-secret division of the CIA had been formed with the mandate to wage the ‘war on terror’. And the head of this division is portrayed with the stereotypical ruthlessness of amoral evil. The message is that America needed the freedom to kill purported terrorists, to bypass the overly bureaucratic rule of law, in order to save ‘American lives.’ Of course, this power is ultimately corruptive - the CIA head practically froths at the mouth in his lust to kill and cover up the mess they’ve created. Bourne is the living symbol of the underlying fallacy, the need to create a pre-programmed killing machine to save the concept of freedom.
The Bourne novels were written in the 1980's by Robert Ludlum. The screenwriters have clearly updated its themes to modern-day concerns, such as the virtually omniscient surveillance capabilities provided by London’s ubiquitous close-circuit cameras. Cleverly, the CIA is able to monitor, and even control, these video-feeds live and in colour, no doubt contributing to the paranoia of the tinfoil-hat crowd. Matt Damon is appropriately buff and stoic as the amnesiac assassin Jason Bourne, while David Strathairn plays up the bloodthirsty CIA Director Noah Vosen. Julia Stiles does another turn as the damsel in distress, albeit with a surprising lack of dialogue as she repeatedly stares wide-eyed while Jason plots and kills with equal ease.
The film delivers on what it promised, a suspenseful thrill ride through the secret world of anti-terrorist spies and assassins. It is short on plot and character development, instead filling the screen with non-stop action. It makes the most of its exotic locales, while its hand-held camera style alternately annoys with excessive shaking and thrills by putting the audience directly into scenes of speeding vehicles and crashing fists.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
The Hand on Marcus Adler
My short story "The Hand on Marcus Adler" has been published in issue #77 of Matrix magazine.
Currently reading
Blowing Up Russia: Terror from Within.
Yuri Felshtinsky, Alexander Litvinenko
A Russian Diary: A Journalist's Final Account of Life, Corruption, and Death in Putin's Russia
Anna Politkovskaya
Why: I have this fascination with Russian politics and life, probably generated from reading too many cold war type spy novels. Of course, the reality that both authors (Litvinenko and Politkovskaya) were assassinated is interesting. And scary.
Update: The prose in both is very dense - i suppose it's the difference in language and culture, although I think the translations could have been better done. The books are also not written in the Western style of journalism - they're full of claims and opinions that are not really backed up with much evidence other than the authors' opinions. I'm not sure what I'll ultimately get out of the books.
Yuri Felshtinsky, Alexander Litvinenko
A Russian Diary: A Journalist's Final Account of Life, Corruption, and Death in Putin's Russia
Anna Politkovskaya
Why: I have this fascination with Russian politics and life, probably generated from reading too many cold war type spy novels. Of course, the reality that both authors (Litvinenko and Politkovskaya) were assassinated is interesting. And scary.
Update: The prose in both is very dense - i suppose it's the difference in language and culture, although I think the translations could have been better done. The books are also not written in the Western style of journalism - they're full of claims and opinions that are not really backed up with much evidence other than the authors' opinions. I'm not sure what I'll ultimately get out of the books.
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