Planet of the Apes III: Escape from the Planet of the Apes: Don Taylor

Don Taylor's Escape from the Planet of the Apes is both a good sequel to Planet of the Apes (1968) and an excellent stand-alone film. It's an almost ingenious solution to the problem of how Hollywood could make another Planet of the Apes film after the eponymous planet was annihilated at the end of Beneath the Planet of the Apes (1970): set it in earth's past. Of course, the film isn't a strict prequel because it follows three chimpanzee scientists who managed to escape from the fiery cataclysm from the last film. Stunned by the sight of a world ruled by men, the three chimpanzees, Cornelius, Zira, and Dr. Milo (the former two of which had appeared in the first two films), are captured and put into a zoo for further study. After Dr. Milo is accidentally killed by a gorilla in an adjacent cage, Cornelius and Zira reveal that they are from a future where mankind destroyed itself and apes came to rule the earth. Fearful of that possible future, government agents decide to exterminate them and their unborn child. I'm simplifying the plot, of course. But the plot is so well executed that it could legitimately work as a stand-alone film. I'm not kidding. If you showed somebody just this film and none of the other Planet of the Apes movies they would still have an enjoyable, rewarding experience. The screenplay by Paul Dehn brings a much more focused philosophical and scientific punch than Beneath the Planet of the Apes and confronts some truly fascinating ethical dilemmas. I know that some people may be disappointed that the film only has a handful of talking apes, but I still believe that Escape from the Planet of the Apes is both a worthy and entertaining follow-up to one of the most important sci-fi classics of the 60s.

7/10

Planet of the Apes II: Beneath the Planet of the Apes: Ted Post

As you may have noticed, I am labeling Ted Post's Beneath the Planet of the Apes as Planet of the Apes II: Beneath the Planet of the Apes. I am doing this because it makes it easier to organize the review in the bookmark column. But enough administrative jibber-jabber, what did I think of Beneath the Planet of the Apes? In short: I thought it was a good sequel but a mediocre stand-alone film. After the first film, a second spacecraft from the past crash-lands on the planet where apes evolved from men. The only survivor, an astronaut named John Brent, goes exploring to try and discover the whereabouts of George Taylor and the rest of his crew. Along the way, he meets Taylor's lover, the mute Nova, and discovers that he disappeared after the appearance of a wall of fire in the Forbidden Zone. Together they dutifully revisit the locations and characters of the first film in their search. Eventually, they stumble upon a group of mutated telepathic humans who worship an atomic bomb in the ancient remains of a New York City subway station. There they find Taylor, try to escape the mutants, and end up detonating the bomb (killing all life on earth) when an invading force of apes led by the gorilla General Ursus and the orangutan Dr. Zaius break into the station. Most of my problems concerning the film can be summarized in the character of John Brent. Why does he exist? Why is he necessary? I can understand wanting to replace Charlton Heston's character with another lead played by a much cheaper actor for the sequels. But his character is killed off at the end of the film! I know that Heston originally didn't want to reprise his role. But that still doesn't explain why they went through all the trouble of establishing a brand new lead if they were always planning to kill him off! Couldn't they have made an established character the primary lead? Imagine this: Dr. Zaius tricks General Ursus into exploring the Forbidden Zone in the hopes of finding more humans. Once he sees the General and his men ransack the station and kill the mutants, he realizes that his species is doomed to the same violent oblivion as the original humans. So, he either a) activates the bomb, freeing the apes from a pointless future, or b), activates the bomb after sending the mutants to their shelters so they can reclaim the earth and work for a peaceful future, having learned their lesson after two nuclear apocalypses. Or maybe he could have found a way to make the apes and humans accept each other! But that's neither here nor there. Beneath the Planet of the Apes is a good film...but it could have been even better.

6/10

Planet of the Apes: Franklin J. Schaffner

Recently, I decided to do a retrospective of the original Planet of the Apes series. I had already seen Franklin J. Schaffner's Planet of the Apes, but I had never gotten around to seeing its four sequels. So, in order to properly judge them, I decided to re-watch the film that started it all. The story of a group of astronauts led by George Taylor (Charlton Heston) who crash land on a planet ruled by apes after traveling almost 2,000 years into the future, the film has become a cultural touchstone and one of the most important sci-fi films of the 60s. Now, I had already seen the film once before when I was younger. But at the time I only saw it as a piece of Hollywood entertainment and was unable to appreciate its artistic merit. During this second viewing, I was blown away by the power and nuance of Leon Shamroy's anamorphic cinematography. The first 25 minutes where the astronauts explore the Forbidden Zone are heart-breakingly beautiful and prove that CGI will never match the magnificence of on-location shooting. The ape make-up and costumes still hold their ground against modern special effects. While much of the film's philosophical underpinnings seem forced, over-bearing, and quaint by today's standards, I can't imagine how a late 60s audience raised on benign, cheaply-made creature features would have reacted to a sci-fi film with such intellectual depth. In short, Planet of the Apes is even better than I remembered. Onwards to the rest of the series!

9/10

Sudden Fear: David Miller

David Miller's Sudden Fear is a tragic film noir misstep with honorable artistic intentions but a clumsy, fumbled execution. The film follows Myra Hudson, a wealthy Broadway playwright, as she marries Lester Blaine, a struggling actor, and discovers that he is plotting to murder her and inherit her vast fortune. Miller tries to wrench out every iota of psychological tension within this story, diving deep into Hudson's mind as she tries to cope with the discovery of the plot against her life. And the last 15 minutes or so are an excellent exercise in tension as she stalks Blaine on the night he has planned to do her in. However, despite all of this, the film trips over its own two feet in the character development department. At the beginning of the film, Myra is a strong, independent woman. However, after Blaine publicly humiliates and insults her after she fires him from one of her plays, she seems to instantly fall in love with him. And even more, he seems to genuinely love her, too. Then, once he discovers that he is destined to inherit her money, he seemingly transmogrifies into a would-be murderer. These developments are so jarring and sudden that they are impossible to believe. I know that in Hollywood films people fall in love almost instantaneously, but in Sudden Fear it seems even more unnatural and forced than usual. These aren't living, breathing characters; they're automatons who have been programmed to act out a traditional film noir narrative.

5/10

Razorback: Russell Mulcahy

Before he reached the big-time with Highlander (1986), director Russell Mulcahy was making films in his native Australia. One of these was Razorback, a "nature gone wild" movie about a giant wild boar (i.e. "razorback") that stalks the Outback, killing and eating humans. The film follows two men who swear to kill the elusive yet deadly razorback: Jake Cullen, an Australian hunter who was powerless to stop the beast from killing and eating his grandson, and Carl Winters, a Canadian whose wife, an investigative journalist, was attacked by Australians and abandoned to the mercy of the razorback. Spoiler: she gets eaten, too. Together, Jake and Carl wage war against the monster. But can they kill it without becoming pig food? Razorback has a solid plot, but it is occasionally muddied by Mulcahy's stylistic flourishes. As he got his start as a music video director, many sequences feel like they were shot for MTV instead of the silver screen. Mulcahy fails to blend horror and the bombastic stylization of late 80s media with the success that Sam Raimi had with the Evil Dead series. But Razorback is still a moderately entertaining, if somewhat flawed, monster flick.

6/10

Dead of Winter: Arthur Penn

I've always had a love of soft-spoken, restrained villains who don't wear their treachery on their sleeves. In Arthur Penn's Dead of Winter, we are confronted with Dr. Joseph Lewis, a villain who at first seems so genuine, kind, and gentle that the eventual revelation of his wickedness can only be met with incredulity. After botching an experimental therapy treatment that led to the death of his patient, he lures an actress named Katie McGovern to his isolated, snowy estate under the pretense of having her star in a movie. However, his true motivations are much more insidious: he intends to use Katie as blackmail bait against the party responsible for his patient's death since she looks almost identical to her. Unfortunately, this plan will eventually result in Katie's death. When Katie discovers the scheme, she must formulate a plan to escape from the terrible yet polite Dr. Lewis. My favorite scene in this film was when Katie managed to summon two policemen to Dr. Lewis' house only for him to convince them that she was a violent mental patient. There is some real horror in the idea of being falsely accused of mental illness. After all, who are the authorities going to believe? The doctor or the disheveled, crazed-looking woman? Overall, I liked this film. It was one of the few thrillers that I have seen recently that actually, y'know, thrilled me.

7/10

The Moment of Truth: Francesco Rosi

Ernest Hemingway once wrote, "Bull fighting is the only art in which the artist is in danger of death and in which the degree of brilliance in the performance is left to the fighter's honour." Francesco Rosi's magnificent The Moment of Truth is a glimpse into that world where beauty meets carnage and death is a constant companion. Disgusted by the possibility of inheriting his father's life as a poor country farmer, Miguel Romero 'Miguelín' leaves his home and journeys to the city where he takes up bullfighting as a means to quickly make money. Perhaps spurred on by thoughts of living a life of poverty, Miguel becomes a veritable over-night sensation with his extreme bravery and cool composure in the face of danger. But Miguel quickly comes to the realization that a life of fast success may not be worth the price demanded of bullfighters by the very nature of their bloody sport. Though the structure of the film's story is anything but revolutionary, Rosi injects a sense of energy and immediacy into it with the use of post-neorealist sensibilities and techniques: the bullfighting rings become universes unto themselves, crowded Catholic processions become mass waves of humanity, and each bull is transformed into a myth-like behemoth. And yet, Rosi refuses to shy away from the gore and brutality of the sport, lingering on the shivering bodies of bulls as the last few pints of blood spill from their necks and how their motionless bodies are dragged away through puddles of their own gore. The Moment of Truth is a film that exists midway between realism and fantastical imagination, much like the terrible sport of bullfighting itself.

8/10

Shark!: Samuel Fuller

Why is this movie entitled Shark!? This film is about a trio of Westerners searching for sunken treasure in the Red Sea. There are certainly shark attacks, but they only happen at the very beginning and the very end of the film. I think there may have been one more attack somewhere in the middle, but I can't be bothered to go back and check. That's because Shark! is an unwatchable, incoherent mess of a film. I feel terrible for Samuel Fuller, the original director. Apparently, Fuller quit the film after the production studio insisted on using the fact that a stuntman was accidentally killed during shooting as part of the advertising. Afterwards, Fuller demanded that his name be taken off the film. But his plea fell on deaf ears. And so, one of the greatest American filmmakers of the Twentieth century will forever be credited with this cinematic abomination. Every single aspect of this film is terrible. It seems that after Fuller left the film, the production studio hired a bunch of invalid monkeys to finish it. The sound quality is so bad that you could swear that a deaf-mute recorded the audio. The cinematography and editing is so confusing and disjointed that it feels like it was created and compiled while the production crew had their eyes closed. Gigantic swaths of the film are swallowed up in opaque day-for-night and murky underwater shots. In conclusion, Shark! is a film that never should have seen the light of day. And I'm not just saying that because it stands as a black mark on Fuller's filmography.

2/10

The Conformist: Bernardo Bertolucci

Bernardo Bertolucci's The Conformist is one of those blessed films where the camera becomes a character in and of itself. The story of Marcello Clerici, a young member of the Italian fascist secret police in the years leading up to World War Two, is fascinating enough on its own to carry an entire film. But the film's narrative is enhanced by cinematographer Vittorio Storaro's virtuoso camera-work and shot compositions. Every single frame is constructed with the skill of a master painter. In fact, the film is so visually striking that it occasionally draws your attention away from the plot. Looking back, I am flooded with memories of striking images: the sterile, empty lobbies of Fascist buildings, the (almost) empty cathedral, the damp Parisian countryside, the squashed yet mysteriously spacious insides of vehicles. Bertolucci's vision of Fascist-era Europe is a kind of lush fever dream. This adds a certain other-worldliness to Clerici's personal odyssey. Desperately seeking acceptance in the new social order, Clerici joins the Fascist police only to be assigned the job of assassinating one of his old college professors and good friends, Professor Quadri, in Paris. Clerici's decision to betray Quadri is a powerful statement on the nature of Fascism and how it can transform seemingly ordinary citizens into monsters. The film reminds me of a moment in Bret Easton Ellis' infamous novel American Psycho when the eponymous Wall Street businessman/serial killer is confronted with the question of why he goes through the hollow motions of living a high life of luxury and refinement even though he is incapable of gaining any pleasure from it. His answer: he wants to fit in. How apropos.

9/10

Scenes from a Marriage: Ingmar Bergman

In an age when filmmakers are increasingly favoring digital media, the cinematic dream-team of director Ingmar Bergman and cinematographer Sven Nykvist stand as one of the greatest testaments to the power and beauty of celluloid. From a formalistic standpoint, Scenes from a Marriage is one of their most stylistically controlled and hyper-realistic films. The film follows the gradual disintegration and eventual reconciliation of the marriage between two wealthy Swedes: Marianne (Liv Ullmann) and Erland (Josephson). As can be expected of Bergman, the film delves deeply into their respective psychologies, explaining their motives for tearing the marriage apart and then tentatively limping back to each other. Originally made as a six-episode, 281-minute TV miniseries, the film is certainly fatiguing to watch in one single sitting. Still, Nykvist's cinematography and use of lighting transforms this domestic drama into a spectacle of heart-breaking beauty. Scenes from a Marriage is a veritable painting with film stock as the canvas, Nykvist's camera as the brush, and Bergman's artistic vision and direction as the painter.

8/10

Don’t Go in the House: Joseph Ellison

Can slasher films be regarded as works of art? Can there be artistic merit in a genre specifically designed to fill the screen with exploitative content like sex and gore? Personally, I think that they can. Films like Bob Clark's Black Christmas (1974), Tobe Hooper's The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974), and William Lustig's Maniac (1980) are fascinating cinematic texts worthy of study and admiration. I would like to offer up another little-known slasher for consideration: Joseph Ellison's Don't Go in the House. Heavily borrowing from Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho (1960), the film tells the story of a deeply disturbed young man named Donald Kohler who has lived his life under the control of his cruel, abusive mother. When he finds her dead one evening, he goes on a killing spree directed against women who resemble her, luring them into his house and brutally murdering them with a flamethrower. The film certainly contains a fair amount of stomach-churning violence, but it is far more interested in Donald's tortured, rapidly-deteriorating mind. With the exception of the scene where Donald kills his first victim (which when compared with the heavily psychological tone of the rest of the film seems out of place with its overt objectification of the female body and its destruction), the violence seems like an after-thought. This is Donald's story. We, as the audience, are here merely to bare witness to his self-destruction.

7/10

Fatal Attraction: Adrian Lyne

Every now and then I come across a film that hits me like a cattle prod to the neck. If you watch hundreds of movies a year (like I do), then it becomes easy to forget how effective truly expertly crafted suspense films can be. Case in point: Adrian Lyne's Fatal Attraction. A now infamous film that depicts a married attorney being stalked and terrorized by a mentally unbalanced woman he had an affair with, Fatal Attraction shocked late 80s audiences and reportedly made many men reconsider cheating on their spouses. Glenn Close's performance as the psychotic Alexandra "Alex" Forrest is the stuff of legend. At first, she seems like a normal person with attachment issues. But then she evolves into a full-fledged monster, incessantly calling his house, killing his daughter's pet bunny, and then, in one of the most unsettling sequences in the entire film, kidnapping his daughter for an afternoon. I must have held my breath the entire time Alex had the girl, waiting for a sudden moment of violence that I knew was coming...but didn't. If I had to levy one major criticism, it would be how by the end of the film Alex seemingly develops slasher villain powers: she can break into buildings without being noticed, can survive being drowned for an extended period of time, and can even shrug off otherwise debilitating wounds. But these aren't deal-breakers in my opinion. By the time these scenes arrive, the audience has become so terrified of Alex that these violations of time and space are readily accepted. I've heard that this film sparked off major criticism from feminist critics who believed that the film suggested that all sexually liberated women were mentally unbalanced. But I don't buy it. Nobody thought that Hannibal Lector was anything other than a monster. Why can't Alex just be crazy? Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar and an unstoppable maniac is just an unstoppable maniac.

8/10

The English Patient: Anthony Minghella

I once heard somebody say that Anthony Minghella's The English Patient was the single most boring film they had ever seen in a theater. This told me two very important things. First, it meant that I needed to cancel that Béla Tarr Fan Club membership that I got him for his upcoming birthday. Second, it revealed that he did not have much patience when it comes to the cinema. I've seen action movies with less action than The English Patient. And, yes, I know that it has developed a reputation over the years as one of the weaker films to ever win the Academy Award for Best Picture. But I don't care. I thought that The English Patient was a very good film. Told largely in flashback, the film tells the story of the whirlwind romance between a Hungarian cartographer and an English aristocrat on the eve of World War Two. After a tragic accident leaves the woman dead and the Hungarian badly burned, he recounts his story to a French-Canadian nurse in an abandoned Italian monastery during the last days of the war. While I found the film very entertaining and effective, I can easily understand the frustration that it could have caused for many viewers. I don't really understand the necessity of framing the entire central romance as a series of flashbacks, thereby leaving the film vulnerable to countless side plots, supporting characters, and other distractions. The film is easily an hour longer then it should have been and the narrative occasionally loses its focus and direction. But is it boring? I don't think so. Long-winded? Sure. But not boring.

8/10

Cavalcade: Frank Lloyd

Yeesh. This is the film that won the Academy Award for Best Picture in 1933? Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't 1933 the year of Cooper and Schoedsack's King Kong, Mervyn LeRoy's Gold Diggers of 1933, and Bacon and Berkeley's 42nd Street? How could Cavalcade have possibly beaten those films out for Best Picture? The film is stilted, top-heavy, and with the exception of a fantastic montage depicting the horrors of World War One, completely uninteresting. It depicts the first three decades of the Twentieth century through the eyes of the Marryot family of London, England. We watch as various members of the family fight in the Second Boer War, die on the Titanic (during a honeymoon, no less), march in Queen Victoria's funeral procession, and get embroiled in World War One. Cavalcade actually reminds me of another Best Picture winner that depicted a regular London family during wartime: Mrs. Miniver (1942). But whereas that film featured fantastic performances, genuine emotion, and director William Wyler's impeccable mise en scène, Cavalcade is a generally unpleasant experience. I guess it isn't a coincidence that Cavalcade is the only Best Picture winner that hasn't received a solitary Region 1 DVD release.

5/10

Burial Ground: The Nights of Terror: Andrea Bianchi

Andrea Bianchi's Burial Ground: The Nights of Terror is essentially a stag film of gory death scenes and softcore sex. After a professor accidentally releases a curse while working in a crypt next to a giant mansion, hordes of undead zombies arise and attack. Much like Night of the Living Dead (1968), the film follows a group of survivors (three couples, a 10 year old boy, and two servants) as they try to keep the zombie hoards out of the house. Unfortunately, these zombies are a tier above Romero-zombies in that they seem to have retained rudimentary problem-solving skills like climbing walls and using tools to bash in doors. Therefore, we watch as the survivors are picked off one-by-one in the traditional Italian exploitation manner. The death scene that sticks the most in my mind was when the zombified 10-year old boy (who is actually played by a full-grown dwarf) attacks his mother by literally biting one of her breasts off. Of course, it's difficult to root for the survivors when they're so insanely stupid. Their stupidity isn't even limited to the old stereotype where people waste shots of ammo on zombie arms and torsos even after they learn that they have to be shot in the head. These survivors have a bad habit of freezing and NOT fleeing when confronted by zombies, much like a deer in headlights. The constant repetition of running, getting killed, running, and getting killed makes Burial Ground: The Nights of Terror unforgivably boring. It's a shame, too, because the film boasts some impressively ambitious zombie costumes and effects. Look for the one scene where a zombie sits up through a layer of grass like a robot. It's chilling stuff.

4/10

Marathon Man: John Schlesinger

At first, I feared that John Schlesinger's Marathon Man would lose me with its labyrinthine plot concerning secret agents, Nazi doctors, and stolen diamonds. For the first half hour, I was so confused about what was going on that I felt that I would have to appreciate it solely for its craftsmanship, tone, and atmosphere, much like Howard Hawks' The Big Sleep (1946). But then the plot began to fall into place and I found myself absolutely mesmerized by this terrific thriller. I loved the film's pacing, red herrings, and performances by Dustin Hoffman and Laurence Olivier. The infamous "Is it safe?" interrogation was particularly brutal. I haven't squirmed in my seat like that in a long time. It just confirms my theory that when it comes to unnerving an audience, less is more. Also, I enjoyed how this film had the guts to truly punish its lead villain instead of abruptly killing him off at the end. I know that statement might make me seem like a sociopath...but I don't care. Too many despicable villains don't get their true comeuppances these days. But I'm rambling now. Marathon Man is easily one of the best thrillers of the 70s. It may start off a bit murky, but it leaves you more than satisfied at the end.

9/10

The Children of Times Square: Curtis Hanson

Curtis Hanson's The Children of Times Square is a made-for-TV movie about runaways living in New York City. The film centers on two young boys in particular: Eric, a young boy who runs away from his neglectful step-father, and Luis, an inner city boy who takes up drug-dealing to support his mother and two young sisters. They both fall into a gang called the Leopards which controls the drug trade of a large chunk of Times Square. They are led by an older man named Otis, a Fagin-like hustler. Of course, this being a made-for-TV movie, it is a cautionary tale. Therefore, much of the movie involves Eric's mother traveling to New York to try and find him. It's inevitable that Eric will be found, but that doesn't distract from the fact that The Children of Times Square is one of the grittier made-for-TV movies that I have ever seen. It explicitly deals with child prostitution, pedophilia, and the drug business. In fact, one minor character that weaves in and out of the central narrative is a 15-year old prostitute on the run from her sexually abusive father. And don't get me started on the scene where Eric is sexually assaulted by an older gentleman. The Children of Times Square feels like a grindhouse movie with all the especially naughty bits edited out. But it still packs a sizable emotional wallop.

7/10

Shakedown: James Glickenhaus

I had heard of the legendary exploitation director James Glickenhaus before, but I had never seen one of his films until now. After seeing Shakedown, I feel confident in saying that Mr. Glickenhaus has a new convert. The film follows Manhattan public defender Ronald Dalton (Peter Weller) and NYPD narcotics agent Richie Marks (Sam Elliott) as they try to take down a ring of corrupt police officers and free the name of a crack dealer who killed an undercover cop in self-defense. I've seen this kind of story many, many times, but where Glickenhaus sets himself apart from other filmmakers is his intimacy with New York City and his ability to incorporate it into the actual story instead of simply using it as an exotic backdrop. Take one scene near the end where a magnet crane helps a taxi escape from a group of corrupt policemen. Or what about the shootout on 42nd Street centered around the infamous Deuce? Or the fight between Marks and a criminal on a roller coaster? Glickenhaus has an intuitive ability to block and choreograph actions scenes that are thrilling, original, and most importantly, memorable. This movie should be shown in Action Filmmaking 101.

7/10

SSSSSSS: Bernard L. Kowalski

Look at that title: SSSSSSS. Just thinking about it makes my skin crawl. In the history of gimmicky movie titles, this 1973 film by Bernard L. Kowalski might take the cake as the most ludicrous and ridiculous. And you know what the most outrageous part is? SSSSSSS is actually a good movie! As far as nature horror films go, SSSSSSS is easily one of the very best. Go figure, am I right? The film follows the brilliant ophiologist Doctor Stoner (Strother Martin) as he tries to transform his student assistant, David Blake (Dirk Benedict), into a King Cobra through a series of injections. However, the corniness of this plot is off-set by a series of fantastic performances by both Martin and Benedict. Martin could have easily made Doctor Stoner an over-the-top madman, but instead he plays him as a very old, very sad man who has nothing left in life other than his daughter and his work. Much of the horror in the last third of the film comes from the revelation of just how sick and twisted Stoner truly is. And yet he never loses that quiet, somber, slightly detached demeanor. It's also a testament to the quality of the film that when terrible things start to happen to David, you honestly feel terrified for his well-being. I've seen more horror films and shocking death scenes than I can possibly remember. And yet, few have gotten under my skin as well as what eventually happens to David. Points also go to SSSSSSS for using real poisonous snakes that could have easily killed the cast and crew during filming. But this film's true greatness is in its ability to make us emphasize with the characters...even when they start to do terrible things.

7/10

Life of Pi: Ang Lee

With Life of Pi, director Ang Lee continues his reputation as a cinematic chameleon, proving himself capable of making engaging, entertaining films in any genre, culture, or time period that he chooses. After his mediocre Taking Woodstock (2009), it was good to see Lee back in top form in Life of Pi. Based off the novel of the same name by Tann Martel, the film follows Piscine Molitor "Pi" Patel, a young Indian man who is shipwrecked and forced to spend over 270 days aboard a life-raft with a full grown Bengal tiger named Richard Parker. I was originally bothered by the film's blatant abuse of CGI (apparently every shot of Richard Parker was created with CGI). But soon I settled into the same mindset that I had during Robert Zemeckis' Who Framed Roger Rabbit? (1988) where I became more interested in how the live-action characters and props interacted with the obviously animated creations. In that respect, Life of Pi is a dazzling accomplishment. Within the film, Lee creates some of the most striking images to grace American cinema in years: the doomed ship sinking underneath the waves of a storm, a school of jellyfish illuminating the sea at night, a tropical island full of meerkats, even a simple scene of an Indian religious festival becomes a rapturous celebration of shapes and colors. I also like the ambiguity introduced near the end concerning the validity of the story as it had been presented to us for nearly two hours. Life of Pi is one of those rare films that is both thought-provoking and heart-breakingly beautiful to behold.

9/10