Our World is Secret... Our Story is Legend...

Making his Hollywood début in the Wachowskis' 2008 pop art spectacular, Speed Racer, Korean superstar Rain re-teams with the Dudes de la Matrix - this time with Jimmy McTeigue in the director's chair, and the Wachowskis relegating themselves to blocking the action scenes - in this year's Thanksgiving blood fest, Ninja Assassin: due out November 25th in the U.S. and November 27th in the U.K.

I'm sorry. I can't help it. But I'm actually more pumped for this than I am for Avatar. Yes, I know Avatar will be yet another amazing Jim Cameron film...but this film has ninjas! And lots and lots of blood!

I'm sure the script will be thinner than the Olsen twins, but that doesn't change the fact that this looks like absolutely great, mindless, B-movie entertainment. I doubt it'll score above three stars on this blog, but that won't stop it from being a fun time at the movies.

If you haven't already done so (or even if you have), I suggest you click the vid below and bask in the bloody brilliance of Ninja Assassin:

'The Animatrix' (Wachowski, 2003)

Deeper Down the Rabbit Hole...

The Wachowskis take The Matrix back to its animated roots, handing their mythology over to the very masters who inspired its aesthetic inception.

After the Wachowskis redefined expectations for Hollywood action cinema with their seminal 1999 movie The Matrix, a wave of admiration and professional jealousy soon set in with artists all vying to find a way to create something as distinctive, intelligent and entertaining as the virtuoso masterpiece. So when the Wachowskis decided to make 2003 'The Year of The Matrix' by releasing two feature films, a video game and a comics line, they also decided that they would release nine animated shorts by masters of animation, both East and West. They would give these animators the opportunity to take the world they had created and to build upon established concepts to create dynamic new works.

For these respective artists, there was no challenge they were more eager to take on.


TITLE: Final Flight of the Osiris
DIRECTOR: Andy Jones
WRITER: Andy Wachowski, Larry Wachowski
ANIMATION: Square USA


The first short feeds straight into the events of The Matrix Reloaded as the crew of the Osiris stumble across a Machine army, hundreds of thousands strong, digging their way into Zion.

It opens with a construct training scene, two characters engaging in an erotically-charged sparring session. Blindfolded. With swords. It is fetishistic to the extreme as seams are sliced and cloth slides sensuously off the characters' firmly toned physiques. The animation is sumptuous, reveling in the slow motion that permeated first movie to suggest superhuman strength and agility. The scene ends abruptly and we are hauled into the real world where the crew spot the Machine army and decide to warn Zion no matter the cost.

The sentinels closing in on a ship as a character on board races to achieve a specific objective in the Matrix is a premise lifted from the first film's final sequence and is recycled to good effect. The end result is visually spectacular with Square USA re-employing their animation technology previously seen on Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within (Sakaguchi, 2001). Interestingly, to prove that they could pull it off, the staff at Square put together a proof of concept using their protagonist from Final Fantasy. And it's a good thing they did, because skin textures are more realistic, movements are more fluid, the design is rich, and the story is entertaining and devastatingly tragic.

*****


TITLE: The Second Renaissance (Parts 1 & 2)
DIRECTOR: Mahiro Maeda
WRITER: Andy Wachowski, Larry Wachowski
ANIMATION: Studio 4°C


Taking its cue from Bits and Pieces of Information, the comic strip written by the Wachowskis, The Second Renaissance chronicles the events that lead up to the creation of the Matrix.

Like all good science fiction, The Second Renaissance is not necessarily talking about the future. It is talking about the present. And it is projecting humanity's future mistakes via its follies of the past.

"Science fiction writers foresee the inevitable, and although problems and catastrophes may be inevitable, solutions are not."
-- Isaac Asimov

Maida shows us images that appear eerily reminiscent of our not-too-distant history, and Man's treatment of Machines is equated to Man's treatment of his fellow Man. Drawing lines of distinction between one another and using hatred of the 'other' to destroy them. The piece seems to be telling us that violence simply begets more violence - a lesson humanity still appears to be getting a failing grade at today. Thus the commentary is a contemporary one. A pertinent one. An important one.

With regards to its impact upon The Matrix Trilogy, this is the first major indication that the unquestioned benevolence of human beings and undisputed malevolence of sentient machines is not as clear cut as initially conceived. The Wachowskis inject shades of grey into what initially appeared as a very simplistic story of good versus evil, foreshadowing the resolution of the trilogy and undercutting Morpheus' religious rantings in the first film.

The animation is superlative, combining 3-D and 2-D techniques to dazzling effect, and the Instructor - our narrator - tells the story with empassioned words that belie her disturbingly passionless voice. The disparity between voice and content is unsettling in the most perfect way, efficiently complementing the disconcerting events that are unraveling before our eyes.

*****


TITLE: Kid's Story
DIRECTOR: Shinichirô Watanabe
WRITER: Andy Wachowski, Larry Wachowski, Shinichirô Watanabe
ANIMATION: Studio 4°C


Moreso than any other short in the series, this is the one that taps most directly into teenage insecurities regarding identity, self-esteem, escapism and self-determination. It is a resolutely immature and revels in the 'disillusioned youth' aspect that permeated the first film as it follows the story of a teenage boy trying to escape from the Matrix while being pursued by Agents. The ending is truly disturbing, showing liberation through suicide.

In terms of its visual style, it is the most radical with elements being reduced to sketch-like detail that renders an appropriately dreamlike feel to the proceedings. The style can jar at times, but it is generally quite effective in achieving its ends.

As with the previous three shorts, this feeds directly into the overall scheme of The Matrix Trilogy, introducing a new character who is re-introduced and his backstory restated in Reloaded. As always, it is not necessary to see the extra material in order to understand the film, but it does exist as a compelling expanded universe tale if one is so inclined.

*****


TITLE: Program
DIRECTOR: Yoshiaki Kawajiri
WRITER: Yoshiaki Kawajiri
ANIMATION: Mad House


From the maker of Ninja Scroll comes a story of two lovers trapped in a construct training program. Taking its cue from Cypher's betrayal, Yoshiaki Kawajiri gives the 'evil' point of view some air time, but without ever really committing to a categorically contrarian moral stance.

Kawajiri uses the unlimited possibilities of the blank white construct to create a Samurai setting from Japan's feudal period. And he milks it for all its worth. He combines reality bending visuals with a hyper-traditional woodblock aesthetic to phenomenal effect. But at the centre of all the visual virtuosity is a compelling moral predicament for the piece's protagonist, Cis, who must choose between leaving with the man she loves to live in a perfect paradise, or to continue fighting with the resistance. Action packed from start to finished, it is held together by an exciting existential discussion that delivers on all the promises one would expect from The Matrix. As a result, this ends up being one of the strongest pieces in the pack.

*****


TITLE: World Record
DIRECTOR: Takeshi Koike
WRITER: Yoshiaki Kawajiri
ANIMATION: Mad House


Another 'waking up' story, this one plays with the idea in a different way. It asks what would happen if someone were to wake up through their physical abilities as opposed to their mental faculties, and it asks what would happen if the waking up process failed. It is a terribly tragic piece, and beautifully so.

It is the story of an athlete, a runner, who attempts to set a new world record after coming back from a doping scandal. The animation takes real risks, distorting and exaggerating the physicality of the world through deliberately disproportionately drawn characters as well as super-surreal sound effects.

Kawajiri's second effort, this isn't as tight as his first piece, but it is certainly emotionally effective, very imaginative, and highly accomplished in its own right.

*****


TITLE: Beyond
DIRECTOR: Kôji Morimoto
WRITER: Kôji Morimoto
ANIMATION: Studio 4°C


Morimoto's style of working is apparently to write the whole thing through from start to finish in one go. He doesn't work in bits and pieces and doesn't add or subtract or alter elements at later stages. If he makes a mistake, he screws it up and starts again. And it shows.

What Morimoto has created here is a mini-masterpiece. A psychedelic journey into a dreamworld where distorted realities aren't a nightmare but a playground of innocence. Riffing on the idea of glitches in the Matrix, Morimoto weaves a tale of wonder, excitement and pathos, all on the most subtle of levels. A piece about discovering joy and having it stolen from you.

In a word, it's marvellous.

*****


TITLE: A Detective Story
DIRECTOR: Shinichirô Watanabe
WRITER: Ellen Moore, Manjiro Ooshio, Shinichirô Watanabe
ANIMATION: Studio 4°C


Honing in on the noir influences of the first film, Watanabe creates a hardboiled detective thriller that centres around a private investigator hired by a mysterious client to track down a hacker known as 'Trinity'...

One of the things that made The Matrix charming was it use of older, analogue technology, suggestive of the Rub Goldberg type contraptions seen during the middle of the 20th Century, and Watanabe really takes that to heart by showing the protagonist's office cluttered with unruly machines.

It's clear that the detective is in way over his head, but that doesn't stop him from putting up an enthralling fight after a good, long build-up of street prowling and gritty investigation. It is a charming little tale, its black and white style only adding to that sentiment, and it contains a cameo from Carrie-Anne Moss who probably looks cooler in this than she does in any of the live action films.

*****


TITLE: Matriculated
DIRECTOR: Peter Chung
WRITER: Peter Chung
ANIMATION: DNA


Easily the most abstract and the most challenging of the nine entries, Peter Chung of Aeon Flux fame attempts to reverse the idea of humans being controlled by machines in virtual constructs, and asks if it would be possible to present a machine with a virtual world and 'convert' it to the human cause. It is visually interesting, and the great accomplishment of the piece is that in the process of humanising the machine for the purposes of the story, it also humanises the machine in the heart of the viewer. Along with The Second Renaissance, it is the only short that attempts to paint the machines with a different colour. To show them in a different light. It is the most predictive of where the sequels will go and commands respect if only for that reason alone.

But, fortunately, there are other reasons to love it. The design work is great. The characters are memorable. And the story itself is emotionally stirring, succeeding in actually eliciting sympathy for the machine at the centre of the story.

A difficult job well done.

*****

'The Matrix' (Wachowski, 1999)

Keanu Reeves stops bullets and redefines cinema in what is arguably the greatest film of all time.

It is difficult to discuss truly seminal cinema outside the context of what came before it and what came after it. It is difficult not to address what has influenced it and what it has influenced. Indeed, it is difficult to add any truly meaningful commentary to a film that has been as scrutinised, as analysed, and as criticised as this. And so I will open with a quote from Darren Aronofsky describing his first viewing of the film with actor Jared Leto:

"I walked out of The Matrix with Jared and I was thinking, 'What kind of science fiction movie can people make now?' The Wachowskis basically took all the great sci-fi ideas of the 20th century and rolled them into a delicious pop culture sandwich that everyone on the planet devoured. Suddenly Philip K. Dick's ideas no longer seemed that fresh. Cyberpunk? Done."

Indeed, Aronofsky cites The Matrix as a direct influence on his 2006 experimental sci-fi masterwork, The Fountain - a beautiful meditation on the nature of death and peoples' relationship with it inspired by a real life trauma in Aronofsky's life when he was concerned for the life of his parents. He describes his film as "a post-Matrix, metaphysical Sci-Fi movie, and it's very different to anything you've seen. I call it post-Matrix because Matrix reinvented sci-fi in the same way Star Wars did, or 2001." Darren Aronofsky isn't the only respected artist to commend the quality of the Wachowskis' modern masterpiece. The prince of cyberpunk himself, William Gibson - the author of seminal works such as 'Neuromancer', 'Count Zero' and 'Mona Lisa Overdrive' (also referred to as the 'Matrix' trilogy) - has claimed that The Matrix is "the ultimate cyberpunk artifact." And Quentin Tarantino recently revealed that The Matrix used to be his second favourite film since he started making movies. Until the controversial sequels were released, that is. More on them later.

So what of this praise? Where has it come from? What about The Matrix has provoked such fervor, envy and admiration from fans and fellow artists? The film itself is the story of a lowly computer hacker, Thomas Anderson, who is played by a suitably confused-looking Keanu Reeves. Under his hacker handle of 'Neo', the film's hero quickly becomes embroiled in a group of alleged terrorists who show him that reality is not reality at all, but rather a digitally constructed illusion designed to keep human minds in a dream state while their bodies' bio-energies are harnessed by artificially intelligent machines hundreds of years in the future. Neo goes on a path of discovery, deeper down the proverbial rabbit hole, attempting to grapple with the prospect that he may be 'the One' - a messianic figure prophecised to lead humanity to freedom. As Aronofsky said, while the concepts of virtual realities and artificially intelligent machines are not new, they are executed with a style, skill and intelligence that ensured The Matrix would become one of the most highly respected films in cinema history.

On a fundamental level, the film's story takes the form of the classic Campbellian monomyth. But not since Star Wars (Lucas, 1977) has it been applied with such originality and such energy. Stylistically, it takes its cue from the films of John Woo, his signature slow motion, double-gun bullet ballet, and characters dressed in sunglasses and long, flowing trenchcoats dominate the now-iconic 'lobby scene' at the beginning of the film's third act. Other visual influences include Japanese animé, whose anticipatory action beats and manipulation of the subject find their way into the 'bullet time' shots, whose technology was pioneered specifically for the purposes of achieving the shots envisioned for the film. From an intellectual standpoint, the film provides a socio-political critique and commentary on the nature of self in relation to society, the loss of individual identity, and the temptations of conformity and obedience in exchange for 'the easy life'. Thematically, the sequels The Matrix Reloaded and The Matrix Revolutions (2003) are far more mature and challenging works, but they are not as instantly relatable as the central idea of the first film that understandably talks directly to teenagers and young adults still struggling to understand who they are and what their place is in the wider world.

Trying to restrict a review of something as deep and dense as The Matrix to a reasonable length is something of a challenge. And that is testament to the fact that the film demands more from its viewer than most films. A seamless union of arthouse intelligence and sensitivity with mainstream razzle-dazzle and fanfare, The Matrix manages to be all things to all people while also maintaining a distinctive identity of its own. It is one of the last masterpieces of the 20th century, and one whose impact will no doubt continue to be felt long into the future.

*****

'The Matrix Reloaded' (Wachowski, 2003)

Clash of the titans. The Wachowskis explore challenging, cosmic themes in their subversive middle chapter of The Matrix Trilogy.

There's a charmingly chucklesome moment during the making-of documentary, The Burlyman Chronicles, in which the Wachowskis are standing in the middle of a vast, hangar-like building with cast members Keanu Reeves, Carrie-Anne Moss and Lawrence Fishburne, training at the very beginning of the pre-production period on the highly anticipated sequels to the 1999 cultural phenomenon, The Matrix. A cross-legged Lawrence Fishburne insists, "You wanna start out on a high. You wanna start out with high expectations. Gotta reach for something." Referencing producer Joel Silver's public proclamation that "in terms of trying to raise the bar, there is no bar," Andy Wachowski replies, "Where the ambition is on this movie? Day two: Uh, can we lower the bar a little bit?" At which point everyone bursts out in unanimous laughter.

And therein lies the heart of the challenge. How do you deliver a sequel to one of the greatest films of all time and not disappoint your audience? Clearly, this is a huge ask. Great sequels to great films can be counted on one hand. By contrast, sequels that are inferior or that disappoint make a much larger, much deeper pile. So which category would this fall into? Would it enter the elite pantheon of high quality sequels? If you listen to the current public consensus, the answer is a resounding, "No."

Fortunately or unfortunately, I do not agree with the public consensus.

When Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey was released in 1968, and when Ridley Scott's Blade Runner was released in 1982, many critics accused their respective creators of being pretentious. Of creating ponderous, boring works that prioritised spectacle over story. Style over substance. They were dismissed with vitriol as being self-indulgent nonsenses whose authors had gone mad with money and had lost the discipline necessary to make a 'proper' film. To quote Morpheus from the first film, "Fate, it seems, is not without a sense of irony." An irony that I hope will repeat itself, for just as those aforementioned masterpieces were far too ahead of their time, far too ambitious in their scope for contemporary audiences to fully understand, so too is The Matrix Reloaded - together with its sequel, The Matrix Revolutions - one half of a monumentally misunderstood modern masterpiece.

"We think the most important sort of fiction attempts to answer some of the big questions."
-- The Wachowski Brothers

Not only would the Wachowskis go on to challenge "some of the big questions", they would take it upon themselves to the biggest question - specifically, "What is the nature of the universe and what is my place in it?" Indeed, Larry Wachowski once described The Matrix Trilogy as "an exploration of consciousness" - an ambitious goal if ever there was one. Whereas some may despise the Wachowskis attempting this and look down upon their ambition as little more than raving, egotistical pretentiousness, I personally find their artistic zeal thoroughly laudable. Not since Stanley Kubrick have we had filmmakers who appear to harbour such lofty cinematic ideals of where the medium could and should go.

But what of their execution? Does their skill live up to their clear ambition? The answer is a resounding, "Yes." The Matrix Reloaded bravely subverts many of the elements set up in the first film. In this sense, the plot twists and turns, albeit mostly in the second half of the film. Reloaded does not have the dizzying first act of its predecessor, instead choosing to backload its more heady narrative gymnastics until later. While this structural choice appeared to bore some audience members, I found it compelling to be so firmly rooted in the world of Zion, its people, its hopes and dreams, only to have all those things ripped away one at a time. Combined with an opening that confers perpetual curiosity upon its audience until the film's climax, the film really is an elegant construction unto itself, despite being only half of a four-hour extravaganza.

I am reluctant to expand this review too far beyond the usual length, and so I will address more substantial aspects of theme, character and narrative in my review for The Matrix Revolutions. That said, The Matrix Reloaded is a jaw-dropping spectacle, whose visual virtuosity is matched by its intelligent, well-crafted story and expertly painted themes.

*****

'The Matrix Revolutions' (Wachowski, 2003)

Buried beneath the blockbuster blanch is a towering achievement of cinematic experimentation and literary excellence.

The second half of a four-hour narrative, or the third act of a trilogy, The Matrix Revolutions is the conclusion to the most commercially successful science fiction franchise outside of Star Wars. But what does it set out to achieve as a work of art? And does it succeed?

"Our films were never intended for a passive audience. There are enough of those kinds of films being made. We wanted our audience to have to work, to have to think, to have to actually participate in order to enjoy them."
-- The Wachowski Brothers

The Matrix Revolutions is the ultimate payoff for every story strand, every thematic thread, and every character arc in the trilogy. To pinch Ken Wilber's use of the idiom, it is the Rosetta Stone of the overall piece; the thing that defines the meaning of everything that has gone before it. Some mistakenly believe that the third film offers no answers, that it supplies only rhymes and riddles that are lacking in logic. This, however, is not the case. Like 2001: A Space Odyssey (Kubrick, 1968) or Blade Runner (Scott, 1982), this is not a film that gives up its secrets with ease. But that doesn't mean they aren't lying in wait, eager to be discovered. This review-come-analysis will attempt to unearth some of these secrets and to shed light on the retrospectively obvious aspects of the third and final installment of The Matrix Trilogy.

There were three primary obstacles that prevented people from properly engaging with, and thus becoming frustrated and dissatisfied with The Matrix Revolutions:

1. A lack of understanding of the film's payoff-oriented NARRATIVE STRUCTURE;
2. A lack of understanding of the film's PLOT POINTS; and
3. A lack of understanding of what the film was trying to say (i.e. its THEME).

No-one likes to be told they don't understand something. They believe it calls into question their intelligence, their integrity, their sincerity. Ironically, the truth is that those who didn't understand aspects of The Matrix Trilogy are probably the smart ones - smart enough to not waste so much time decoding a silly little movie. Of course, those of us who do decide to spend so much time digging into the darkness that is The Matrix Revolutions do so out of a genuine passion for the material and an arguably misguided belief that it is important enough to scrutinise and analyse with such sincere effort. What I hope to share with more sane-minded cinéphiles are the discoveries of myself and other Matrix fans who have spent so many years in the company of what we believe to be a modern masterpiece.


1. NARRATIVE STRUCTURE:

In order to fully appreciate the nature and narrative of The Matrix Revolutions, one must first understand its place in the overall scheme of the story. The Matrix Reloaded and The Matrix Revolutions are two halves of a single, four-hour narrative. Consequently, Reloaded contains Act I and the first half of Act II (Act II.1), whilst Revolutions contains the latter half of Act II (Act II.2) as well as Act III. I've included an explanatory diagram below (something I refer to as 'The Reloaded-Revolutions Superstructure') to clarify the point:


Here is an overview of what each act contains and what its purpose is:

ACT I (Reloaded, Hour 1):
This sets up the politics and geography of Zion, which will be paid off in Act III. It also sets up the need to save Zion from an impending army. Neo is told that in order to save Zion he must reach the Source (a.k.a. 'the Machine mainframe') and in order to do that he must first retrieve a program called the Key Maker. She also tells Neo that programs can only be deleted at the Source - something else to be paid off in Act III. The saga's primary antagonist, Smith, is also shown to have become an endlessly multiplying virus who copies himself onto other programs and people, and even copies himself onto Bane - a Zion warrior - who then carries the psyche of Smith within the real world and who then becomes obsessed with killing Neo. Once again, this will be paid off later in the story.

ACT II.1 (Reloaded, Hour 2):
Neo and company race to reach the Source, capturing the Key Maker and then making their way to what they think is the end of their journey. Unfortunately for them, there is a big reversal in store - Neo is merely part of a larger control system and must return to the Source in order to restart the Matrix. He refuses and soon discovers he has abilities outside the Matrix to destroy Sentinels...but he falls into a mysterious coma in the process.

ACT II.2 (Revolutions, Hour 1):
Neo's friends discover that Neo's mind is no comatose, but is actually trapped in a world between worlds - a place used to smuggle obsolete programs out of the Machine world and into the Matrix. They succeed in breaking him out and Neo marches into the Oracle's apartment to ask for answers. She reveals that Neo has a connection to the Source (the Machine mainframe) and can consequently broadcast his own signal into the Matrix without the need for jacking in, and can interfere with the Machine frequency thus allowing him to destroy sentinels. Meanwhile, the Machine army is almost upon Zion and the remaining rebels must decide what to do...when Neo suddenly comes in and asks to take one of the ships to the Machine City. He manages to secure a ship to the anger of some, but before he and Trinity can leave, they are ambushed by Bane - who is now operating as Smith - and Neo's eyes are gouged out.

ACT III (Revolutions, Hour 2):
The Machine army breach Zion's dock walls and an enormous battle occurs using the geography of Zion as set up in Act I as a basis for the audience's orientation of the scene. Morpheus races against time to make it back to Zion with their last remaining EMP to wipe out the Machine army and succeeds...only to be met with a second wave of Sentinels even bigger than the first. Neo and Trinity make it to the Machine City and Neo, connecting Smith to the Source and using his body as a sacrificial conduit, destroys Smith after brokering a truce with the Machines in exchange for Smith's head. The Matrix is reborn anew and in balance and a new era of peace begins.

Although this is just the tip of a very large iceberg, you can still see that much of what occurs in the Revolutions portion of the story is directly dependent upon what was set up in Reloaded. Indeed, this is why advise people not to watch one without the other, particularly Revolutions, which enjoys the least narrative autonomy of all three installments.


2. PLOT POINTS:

There seem to be three main sources of confusion with regards to the plot of The Matrix Revolutions. The first is the nature of Neo's expanded powers outside the Matrix. The second is the nature of Mobil Ave; the train station Neo finds himself stuck in. And the third is how Neo destroyed Smith.

With regards to Neo's powers, it is important to understand that Neo, by simple definition, is a cyborg. His central nervous system has been cybernetically augmented to send and receive computer signals, hence why he can jack into the Matrix. But the powers he exhibits in the real world are of an electromagnetic nature. This is suggested when (a) the visual vocabulary that has already been established during deployment of EMPs is used again to show Neo stopping the oncoming Sentinels at the end of Reloaded, as well as when (b) Neo is able to broadcast his own electromagnetic signal into the Matrix without the help of hardware. He is therefore a cyborg who is equipped with electromagnetic capabilities, and - according to the Oracle - he is connected to the Source, the Machine mainframe. Animé and cyberpunk fans would do well to think of this as Major Motoko Kusanagi from Mamoru Oshii's Ghost in the Shell being hooked into a wireless computer network. It is fundamentally the same principle.

With regards to Mobil Ave, the Oracle explicitly states that it is "a place between [the Matrix] and the Machine world". The character of Rama-Kandra even explains that he is in charge of recycling the humans who die, feeding them to the humans who are still alive. Thus the 'Machine world' is literally a reference to the pod fields, the Machine City, etc. And Mobil Ave is a path that connects that world with the Matrix - a forum for free (albeit exiled) existence for programs who are on the run for one reason or another.

And finally, with regards to Neo being able to destroy Smith, the Oracle establishes that programs can only be deleted at the Source, and Neo defeats Smith by connecting him to the Source. It's quite simple, really.


3. THEME:

I will be as clear as the film is supposedly cryptic. The theme of the film and, indeed, of the entire trilogy is that of unity. Balance. The integration of opposites. It is a theme that is made manifest in every fiber of the trilogy's being. Neo and Smith merging. The Oracle and the Architect co-operating. Man and Machine co-existing. The constant Yin-Yang symbols, the symmetrical shot compositions, repetitions of Buddhist quotes that "everything that has a beginning has an end", the fact that Neo is an anagram for 'ONE' and that 'Trinity' represents the meeting point between two opposites... The list goes on and on and on and on. Even the overarching ethos behind the aesthetic of the film's creation (i.e. the bringing together of disparate disciplines of film genres, cultures, philosophies, theologies, mythologies, etc) reflects the theme of unity and balance and oneness that pervades any perspective that one may wish to approach this piece from.

The idea that difference is a delusion, and that unity is illumination.

If anyone wishes to contend this interpretation, I'd be only too happy to oblige. Thus I give you my personal assurance that this is indeed the theme of The Matrix Trilogy. This is what it's about. All those symbols, all those analogies, all those esoteric external references...they all had a purpose. A reason. A "Why?". And anyone who says that these elements were merely thrown together as a haphazard assortment of random references is just plain wrong.

And, as with any well-constructed film, its theme is made manifest through its characters. Neo, who started off in the first film complaining, "I don't like the idea that I'm not in control of my life," ends up in the second film understanding that, "It was inevitable." That the universe is unified. That it can only happen one way, and that true peace doesn't come from denying your destiny, but from accepting that you are but a small cog in the cosmic wheel. To "know thyself" and to consequently know your place in the universe. Trinity is already at peace with her place in the universe - as her name suggests, she is the 'third way'. The path between paths. The place where opposing forces resolve, dissolve, and only peace remains. And her peace comes through her love for Neo. And finally, we have Morpheus becoming a more integrated, more holistic human being. For so many years he has shut off his humanity in favour of an intangible myth. An escapist abstraction. Something that kept him from truly connecting with his fellow humans on a personal level, as represented by his initially failed relationship with Niobe. A relationship he gets a second shot at now that he is fully present. Now that he is whole. Now that he has become unified.


...BUT INTELLECTUALISM DOESN'T MEAN ENJOYMENT:

Not in a million years. Just because you understand the inner workings of a story, its characters and its themes, that doesn't necessarily mean you're going to suddenly get a visceral kick out of watching the film. But, like explaining a joke after the moment has passed, those who initially berated the it with unabashed vitriol may just take a moment to stop and smile with a wave of realisation, thinking, "Ah, yeah... Okay... I get it now..." So even though you may not 'enjoy' it, you may at least gain a sense of appreciation for it. And when you see it again in a few months, you may even get a little giggle out of it.

Like Michael Jackson's Invincible album, The Matrix Revolutions is something of a 'grower' - the more you play it and the more time you spend with it, the more you are convinced that you are experiencing a work of unrecognised genius that was simply too ahead of its time to be appreciated by its contemporaries. And then you sit slack-jawed in awe of its greatness, unable to get enough of it.

The mystery and danger of Neo's first act predicament, the thrilling gun battles Morpheus and Trinity stage in order to secure his escape, the tension of Smith in human form scurrying about the ships waiting to strike and the inexorable midpoint confrontation between him and Neo, the spectacularly staged siege sequence whose equivalence may never come, the final battle in which the directors employ all their action acumen to deliver one of the greatest scenes of lyricised violence known to humanity, and all the ideas, all the visuals, all the story turns, all the concepts the Wachowskis roll into this massive monument to moviemaking - all these things are the reasons why I love this film and why I think that it is not just the superlative sci-fi or cyberpunk experience, but also the ultimate cinematic experience.

No other film delivers so much craft and content in so fickle a frame.

*****

'Mission: Impossible' (De Palma, 1996)

Cruise at his charismatic best in Brian De Palma's crisply crafted Hitchcockian suspense thriller.

Brian De Palma is quoted as saying that he wanted the screenplay of Mission: Impossible to "constantly surprise the audience". If nothing else, De Palma succeeds entirely in accomplishing this target. There are two major twists in the first act alone. The second act has a light twist and another more moderate twist. Heck, it even has time for a false twist, and climaxes with a double-twist. Then finally, the third act twists twice more, and even has time to send the audience on its way with another amusing twist in the film's coda. And when it's not twisting, it's holding you in a tight death grip of superlatively suspenseful scenes and sequences that grab you and refuse to let go. Of all the Summer 'thrillers' we are lumbered with, this is one that truly earns the title.

Within the confines of this labyrinthine story lie a series of solid performances, not least from the film's lead, producer and key creative mind, superstar Tom Cruise. He looks sharp as a toothpick in this movie. Its a look he doesn't manage to get back in the other two films, which may well be by design - unlike the Bond movies, Cruise wanted each installment in the Mission: Impossible series to have a distinctly different feel, which was a goal he decided would best be achieved by hiring a different director for each one (we'll get to those in the following reviews). Emmanuelle Beart's sultry presence only enhances the power of an underrated performance. And Jon Voight is on predictably reliable form as Cruise's mentor and TV series protagonist, Jim Phelps.

De Palma has often been attributed as being something of a Hitchcock wannabe. This is sometimes said in a negative light, but De Palma has enough class, style and uniqueness to create his own unique twist on the suspense genre. Certainly, De Palma goes all-out noir with Dutch angles, shadowy alleys, rain soaked streets and femme fatales. His compositions are crisp, clean and highly communicative. His command of the medium feels effortless. Despite reports of a troubled production and creative clashes with Tom Cruise, De Palma looks like he's enjoying himself behind the camera as he creates one of the most deftly crafted films of his career. As much as I love his 1983 film Scarface, I can't deny that its slightly tatty edges force it to come in second place behind Mission: Impossible, which I proudly rank as my favourite film by Brian De Palma.

This film is one of the highest pedigree. With De Palma behind the camera, Cruise in front of it being accompanied by a great ensemble cast, and Robert Towne of Chinatown (Polanski, 1974) fame with a pen in his hand, the end result is a neo-noir mini-masterwork of the 90s that rarely gets the recognition it deserves.

*****

'Mission: Impossible 2' (Woo, 2000)

A disappointing sequel with a lackluster story and disappointing set pieces. But on the upside, at least Tom Cruise's hair looks great.

To quote Tom Cruise's super-spy Ethan Hunt when sitting down to be told his impossible mission by boss Anthony Hopkins: "You gotta be kidding." If, like me, you were completely intoxicated by the incredible trailer that promised Matrix-like quality and style, then your first viewing of the film was no doubt an experience equivalent to having John Woo carving your heart out of your chest and playing basket ball with it before slam dunking it into the nearest dustbin.

Following Brian De Palma's perfectly crafted cinematic treat, Mission: Impossible (1996), John Woo falls far short of the mark in creating a compelling spy thriller. While ostensibly basing the central plot idea on Alfred Hitchcock's Notorious (1946) with regards to the female lead sent to infiltrate the enemy, Woo is unable to generate even a fraction of the tension or sense of sympathy for the plight of the central characters that the classic masterpiece was able to achieve.

When you hire John Woo for a movie, you do it for one primary purpose - action. Unfortunately, the action in this film feels shoddy. Abortive. Some have commended Woo's invisible use of stunt doubles, but this is rendered irrelevant when considering the rigid, staccato cutting that impedes so many of the scenes. Granted, this may not all have been Woo's fault. The studio was pushing for a PG-13 rating, and anyone who's seen a John Woo movie knows that this is not exactly what he's known for. Last minute cuts no doubt contributed the lost elegance in staging some action scenes, and this must be acknowledged. However, it must be equally acknowledged that the final result is not satisfactory.

In recent years, I have managed to make my peace with the fact that the film is indeed function on the most basic level. It has a discernible plot, solid performances, and a smidgen of emotional development. Insofar as big, brainless blockbusters go, it ticks the necessary boxes. But it doesn't excel. Considering the pedigree of the screenwriters on this movie, this sad fact is also a bewildering one. Robert Towne, whose past screen credits include the script for the seminal Chinatown (Polanski, 1974) and the original Mission: Impossible, drops the ball in a big way. The tight, taught, intelligence with which he wrote the first entry in the series is gone, traded in for broad plot strokes and cliché devices. It is a fall from grace so steep in severity that I am still having a hard time understanding the terrible scale of it.

I will say quite bluntly that this the most disappointing film of my moviegoing life. That's not to say that it is a terrible film, since it is certainly no worse than the solid but safe Summer fare that has always circulated the larger pipelines of the Hollywood machine. But it is a massive step down from the craft and creativity of De Palma's original. If you want to watch a good Hollywood John Woo movie, look no further than 1997's Face/Off.

*****

'Mission: Impossible 3' (Abrams, 2006)

Cruise is back in action in a sequel that's better than its predecessor, but nowhere near the quality of the original.

As seems to be symptomatic of most modern movies, Abram's visual style is a little too brutal to be truly great, unlike the confidence displayed by De Palma in the 1996 original. Nevertheless, his storytelling is sufficiently stylish to ensure an enjoyable energy pervades the film, making it a fun entertainment experience, albeit not a terribly significant or lasting one. However, the one place where Abrams' script and direction exceed themselves is in the film's obligatory pre-title sequence in which Ethan is in the most vulnerable and powerless position we have ever seen him in. It is a shock to the system, it is perfectly performed by all involved, and it marks the film's highest point, a point that eludes Abrams throughout the rest of the movie. Talk about peaking early.

Mission: Impossible 3 is one of those films that appears to get everything right, but leaves the viewer feeling flat. Emotionless. As if two hours of high octane spectacle ultimately amounted to nothing. As deficient as Mission: Impossible 2 was, it at least understood that its emotional core was rooted in the relationship between Ethan and Nyah, and Ethan's desire to protect the woman he cared for. But in Mission: Impossible 3, the writers appear to lose sight of what the emotional core of their story is. At first glance, one may think it's the relationship between Ethan and Julia. And while this certainly is an important part of the film's central theme, the real emotional core is Ethan's guilt and responsibility over the character of Lindsey Farris - Ethan's ex-student whom he had approved as being ready for field duty. The tragic irony is that there isn't much work that needs to be done. Merely a passing glance at Lindsey's empty desk during the film's coda would have been sufficient acknolwedgement of the reasons for the journey, since Julia becomes Ethan's emotional surrogate for Lindsey anyway. It's a small blip, but it makes all the difference.

I like the idea of Ethan as the older, wiser character. The mentor forced back into service due to his guilt over a captured student. The family man who doesn't want to lose everything he holds dear. The old dog being called back for one final mission. I like all that. Unfortunately, the concept is taken as far as it could have been. A further symptom of its lack of adventurousness is the fact that the second half of the movie basically has the same plot as the whole of the first movie. It is a lackluster retread of past exploits. Now, whereas this is to be expected in a Bond franchise that has lasted nearly half a century, there is no reason for such regressive storytelling when you are only on the third film in the series. It smacks of laziness, and frustratingly so. Instead of exploring the idea of a troubled family man conflicted about his life in the field, it's reduced to a dimensionless 'save the girl and save the world' plot. Disappointing.

While both this and Mission: Impossible 2 receive three star ratings, it is important to note that they are not of identical quality. M:I-2 is in the lower half of this category whereas M:I-3 is in the upper half. They are both solid Summer blockbusters, neither one attempting anything particularly grand nor are they ingeniously executed, but there is a notable difference in the quality of their execution, which I hereby acknowledge.

*****

'J.C.V.D.' (Mechri, 2008)

Van Damme at his ass-kicking best. WARNING: Casualties may include terrorists, robbers, and the fourth wall.

Caught in the nexus between a fictional, flawless, idealised dream of himself, and the rough, raw, rugged reality of his actual life and his actual surroundings, Jean-Claude Van Damme is pushed to the limit in the performance of a lifetime.

The film not only deals with Van Damme's conflicted perception of himself, but also the perception that his fans have of him. A combination of admiration and loathing that is a recurring paradoxical sentiment in both himself and his fans who constantly feed off each other to create a mutated idea of a man known as 'J.C.V.D.' Indeed, this is an idea re-iterated in the style of the film, itself breaking the fourth wall in that it is about the very actor who is playing himself onscreen, not to mention a lengthy soliloquy at the end of the second act in which Van Damme turns to the audience and pours his heart out in what ranks as one of the single most arresting experiences of my filmgoing life.

The story starts with Van Damme in his late 40s struggling to keep abreast as an action star for low budget B-movies while fighting for custody of his daughter in court. Van Damme becomes embroiled in a hostage situation in which he himself appears to be the hostage taker demanding money to pay for his court fees. Like much of the film, this is an amusing reversal on how we generally perceive Van Damme as the square-jawed hero. The first act is a phenomenal exercise in narrative, suspense and efficiency. The second act is equally compelling in not only twisting the narrative, but also providing deeper insights into Van Damme struggling to be the stoic hero despite the reality of his environs and his all-too-human shortcomings. And the third act climaxes with one of the biggest fist-pumping moments I've ever had watching a movie.

The nature of the film forces one to revisit Van Damme's filmography as a matter of necessity. My favourites include: Kickboxer (DiSalle, 1989), which is a great revenge story with a killer climax; Universal Soldier (Emmerich, 1992), a Terminator-esque sci-fi action adventure film in which Van Damme plays a dead Vietnam soldier resurrected as a super soldier for a secret government program - the film is basically a massive metaphor for Vietnam veterans suffering from post-traumatic stress, and Van Damme's character represents their struggle to let go of the past and build a new future with whatever time they have left; and Timecop (Hyams, 1994), which is a smart and slick sci-fi flick about a man whose job it is to enforce time travel for the U.S. government. Other significant mentions include A.W.O.L., which shows Van Damme as a French Legionnaire who abandons his military brethren to rush to the aid of his real and dying brother in the United States.

Upon reviewing these films and J.C.V.D. it becomes clear very quickly that Van Damme's most compelling characters are generally the quiet, introverted, sensitive hero types. Indeed, if there's one thing Van Damme has that other classic action starts like Arnold Schwarzenegger lack, it's sensitivity. Unfortunately, where Van Damme begins to flag is when he encroaches into Arnie territory, attempting to be the witty warrior with a one-liner on standby for those times when bad guys need to be dispatched with style (hey, we've all been there). And so it would make sense for Van Damme to stick to this niche. And hey, it's not a bad niche. If anything, it will allow him to further explore the intense thespian aspect of his persona, and if J.C.V.D. is anything to go by, we can hope to expect some grand stuff from him further in the future.

*****

'Pratidwandi' a.k.a. 'The Adversary' (Ray, 1972)

"This isn't a matter of technology. It's just plain, human courage."

Ray's beloved Calcutta is a wonderland of dark discoveries for its troubled protagonist, Siddhartha, who has given up his medical education and trawls through the city in order to find a job to provide for his family after his father's death.

The Adversary is one of the most compelling urban studies ever committed to screen. The city itself presents a medium of almost fetishist fascination with and simultaneous repulsion of the urban sprawl, seen earlier in the form of Isaac Asimov's literary epic Foundation (1951), and was later canonised by Ridley Scott's Blade Runner (1982) as the pinnacle of the urban jungle sub-genre. There is a small but memorable moment - of which this film is full - in which a group of White hippies rest under a solitary tree amid the urban chaos and rejoice that they have "found the place where life began". There is a yearning for nature throughout the film, which is hauntingly represented through the recurring image and sound of a rare bird with a beautiful song taken from Siddhartha's childhood memories of him and his sister. And therein lies the link of the protagonist's sense of love and duty towards his family with a greater sense of innocence lost. Between his extremist brother with far left leanings, his ailing mother, and a sister who is becoming more and more used to the idea of using her sexuality (even if only in the most subtly suggestive sense) to get ahead in life, we see what the city has done to corrupt the family unit, which appears to be a literal incarnation of human bliss and perfection, as well as being the stage of its fall from grace. It would seem that it is no coincidence that the main character is named after the birth name of the Buddha.

In a truly mesmerising scene, Siddhartha is brought to a brothel by a friend who tries to help him relax. Staying true to the character and the overriding theme of the film, Siddhartha stays true to his virtuous nature and flees as if running from a burning building. It's little wonder that the one potential source of relief from this forebodingly decadent world arrives in the form of love. Siddhartha gets to touch the innocence and purity of his youth when in her presence, which makes the ending all the more tragic, and makes the hero all the more heroic for remaining uncorrupted despite all the advances of his environs.

At its heart, The Adversary is about the inner yearning for innocence and reconnection, which conflicts with the outer compulsion and pragmatic need to obtain tangible wealth in order to survive the harshness of the modern world. It's a struggle that no-one but Ray could portray in a manner as haunting and as visceral as this.

*****

'The Taking of Pelham 123' (Scott, 2009)

Travolta hams it up as the villain. But should he have been cast as the hero?

It's a sort of standard operating procedure with hijack/hostage thrillers such as this to have a big reveal in the final reel. A shocking twist that miraculously transforms the cliché characters and mediocre story of the past ninety plus minutes into a film you might actually remember the next morning. Unfortunately, The Taking of Pelham 123 is not one of those films.

Lead actors Denzel Washington and John Travolta contribute to a relatively watchable hundred minutes, but one can't help but feel that they were cast in the wrong roles. I suspect that Washington as the charismatic terrorist and Travolta as the burned out transport operative would no doubt have made for a far more satisfying viewing experience than the final product. That said, they are both highly capable actors whose interaction with one another electrifies, and lifts the film from DTV tosh to cinema-worthy fare.

Tony Scott has always been the kind of guy who loves tinkering with visuals. His use and manipulation of hand cranked cameras in 2004's Man on Fire created an energy and vibrancy that thrilled, terrified and emotionalised in equal measure. Sadly, none of that flare is on display in Pelham, whose misjudged time lapse shots and interspersion of thrash metal superimposed over inserts of ransom money being raced across the city creates the wrong breed of unease and awkwardness.

Somewhere within the the depths of the film, there seems to be an abortive attempt to initiate some sort of critique of Wall Street but, like much of the film, this element is not explored to any compelling degree. It is merely paid lip service before the filmmakers cower from committing to a concrete message of one description or another. Whatever commentary on class warfare was inherent in the story being told simply never comes to any notable fruition.

So this is a film of missed opportunities. Miscast leads. Underdeveloped themes. Underwritten scenes. Underwhelming plot. Misjudged aesthetic. And yet...it is not a complete waste of time. There is some entertainment value to be had here, there is some joy to be gleaned from the performances, and there are moments of high tension that will grip an audience, even if it isn't the best at doing what it does.

*****

'G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra' (Sommers, 2009)

Between this, Isaac Florentine's Ninja, and the Wachowski-McTeigue film Ninja Assassin, it appears the silent star-throwers are making a big screen comeback this year.

Effective ensemble pieces about a team or group of people with a common dramatic purpose are generally quite difficult to get right. Recent success stories include the likes of Soderbergh's Ocean's Eleven (2001) while classics like The Seven Samurai (Kurosawa, 1954) continue to be held up as prime examples of the genre. And so it should come as little surprise that G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra, brought to you from the director of The Mummy (1999), The Mummy Returns (2001), and Van Helsing (2004), is no Seven Samurai. But then again, it's not Van Helsing either. And that is never a bad thing.

The film centers around two groups, one being a super-secret, super-elite, super-duper task force known as G.I. Joe (referred to colloquially as "The Joes"), and the other being their evil counterparts who will eventually come to be known as Cobra. Through the fiery flames of constant explosive activity lies a feint visage of military moralising - the idea that the soldier is and will forever be the backbone of the military, which is represented by the G.I. Joe unit placing an emphasis on empowering its soldiers, and cannot be mere mindless, moralless killing machines as represented by the brainwashed beta version of the Cobra team. The two teams are constantly set up as being mirror images of each other with equivalent character-types on both sides and even a defection or two taking place as the film progresses. Heck, you only have to look at the layout of the film's promotional poster to see the page split in two, depicting the two sides in connected opposition to one another.

But that's about as deep as it goes. The rest of the film is spent blowing the shit out of anything that seems even remotely combustible in the wake of several rocket-propelled grenades going off inside and around it. And, for the most part, these explosive scenes are suitably entertaining. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for the male lead, Duke, played by an almost completely charmless Channing Tatum. His inability to emote leaves underwritten scenes all the more distant from hitting their mark, and it's clear that his wooden presence takes its toll on fellow cast members who engage in an uphill battle to elicit some sense of life and vitality from an actor who is barely deserving of the title. Luckily, Sienna Miller's performance as a conflicted seductress goes some way to remedying her male counterpart's insurmountable flaws, and a host of supporting actors including Dennis Quaid, Arnold Vosloo and Jonathan Pryce enable the material to float a notch or two above its pay grade. Even Marlon Wayans as Funny Black Guy...uh, I mean Ripcord...provides a welcome source of character-based entertainment in a film that is otherwise almost completely overwhelmed by its scale.

Ultimately, Stephen Sommers is a director who generally understands the balance between story and spectacle. While there are moments in G.I. Joe in which he struggles to hold onto the reigns of his story and the characters who populate it, he never lets it slip his grip entirely. There is an undeniable boyish charm to the film. It is not the best of its breed, but it is not entirely valueless as a piece of energetic entertainment. Certainly, if I have to choose between seeing an average but actionless thriller like The Taking of Pelham 123 and an average but action packed blockbuster like G.I. Joe, I'd roll with the Joes any day of the week.

*****