Watched Little Man last night. The film is a typical Wayans Brothers’ standard; therefore, you should know what to expect. You just have to leave your senses at the door before walking into the theater. It’s not a bad thing to do when you just need some mindless chuckles. Especially after a long and hard day at work, you just want to laugh away without having to think much. As tasteless as the jokes are—when Vanessa (Kerry Washington) kisses “Little Man” Calvin (Marlon Wayans) on his tummy, he pushes her head down further—they speaks out what most men think but never share. On a parenting note, I am not sure how the film is passed for PG-13 rating, when the content is filled with sexual comics.

Robert Altman’s A Prairie Home Companion takes us inside the final performance of a live radio show that lasted for thirty years. The Fitzgerald Theater, in which the musical show takes place, will be demolished and turn into a parking garage. With emotion, joy, and a bit of mysteriousness, the strength of the film is in its subtlety. The camera gives us enough time to get to know the characters without slowing down the paste. Many big stars are in the film including Vassar’s alumni Meryl Streep (an oldie but goodie), Virginia Madsen, Woody Harrelson, Kevin Kline, John C. Reilly, and Tommy Lee Jones, and they all done a fantastic job of not only acting but singing as well. I enjoy both the heartfelt performances as well as the whimsical comedies they brought to the production.

I was planning on writing a review for Paul Greengrass’s United 93, but I didn’t get to watch the entire film. I had to walk out of the theater halfway into the movie or else I would have thrown up. The jerky camera work was torturing. The subject matter alone is sensitive, and the unprofessional, homegrown filming style makes it impossible to bear. Do we really need a poor-quality motion picture to remind us the darkest day of America? Here is what Manohla Dargris, film critic of the New York Times, has to say:

Sept. 11 has shaped our political discourse and even infiltrated our popular culture, though as usual Hollywood has been awfully late to that table. Yet five years after the fact and all the books, newspaper and magazine articles, committees and scandals later, I think we need something more from our film artists than another thrill ride and an emotional pummeling. “United 93” inspires pity and terror, no doubt. But catharsis? I’m still waiting for that.

Mia Goldman who is a Vassar alumna presented a preview screening of her debut Open Window to the Vassar community last Wednesday. Goldman wrote the script, directed, and edited her own work. The film, which will hit the theaters in September, is based on Goldman’s personal tale regarding to a woman’s struggling to recuperate after being raped and beaten. The sweet life with her fiancé and everyone around her turns sour after the incident as the victim tries to deal with her drama.

Although the subject is heavily intense, Goldman throws in a few appropriate jokes to lighten up the atmosphere. The chemistry between the actors—Robin Tunny, Joel Edgerton, Cybill Shepherd, and Elliot Gould—is wonderful, but the storyline is not so moving. The pace is 97 minutes long, but it seems much longer. The problem is that the film tries to get a message across instead of delve into the art. A great example is when Izzy (the victim) explained to the psychiatrist why she didn’t report to the police. Her reasoning was that she made a promise to him not to tell anyone so that he wouldn’t kill her. She went on and explained that she saw some humanness in his eyes when they exchanged a few lines, even though he slapped her, threatened to stick a screwdriver into her head, made her blew him, and raped her. If I could remember correctly, the psychiatrist responded with something like Izzy had begun a relationship with the rapist. Now that is something interesting. Unfortunately, the film never came back to that topic again.

Other then that, I don’t see Open Window as being distinctive from other sexual-assaulted films. Victims were raped, humiliated, and remained silence trying to deal with it. From a male and a foreigner viewpoint, I find it ironic because America is one of the most voiced countries in the world. We express ourselves freely and blatantly from politic to sex to anything else. Yet when it comes to rape, we’re having a hard time fronting it. If Open Window is based on a true story, I am sure the guy who raped her would be watching it, patting himself, and saying, “Damn! I did her good.”

Video artist Nguyen Tan Hoang spoke and showed eight of his experimental short films at Vassar yesterday. His works are ranging from four to eighteen minutes addressing various topics such as gay Asian American, Vietnamese pop cultures, and sex stereotype of Asian male in mainstream America media. Hoang received his Studio Art’s MFA at the UC Irvine, and is working on his PhD in Rhetoric/Film Studies at UC Berkeley.

From the visual aesthetic sense, Hoang needs tremendous improvements. His amateur productions bring down his messages, way down. I don’t expect Hollywood quality from him, but decent shooting and editing will enhance his works. For instance, Forever Jimmy! is a slideshow featured Asian pop pretty boys including familiar faces of Andy Lau, Jackie Cheung, Aaron Kwok, and Leon Lai. Of course, he also threw in gay pornography to complete the sticky homoeroticism. The way he made the transitions from one image to the next were so bad (too jerky and too many cheesy effects) that I almost began to get seasick. Thankfully, it was only six minutes long or else I have to walk out of the auditorium.

His concept in Pirated! shares some similarities with my “A Few Gifts For My Homeland.” He also used “Mot Chut Qua Cho Que Huong,” but a Khanh Ly’s rendition. The main difference between our works is that I tell mine from the women’s and children’s view while he tells his from a gay man’s standpoint. The video starts off with clips of fleeing boat people then progresses into homosexual pirates. Even though the piece relates to the Vietnamese people, he hesitates to show it to them because he concerns about the homosexual context. With the political issues I had faced with my own work, I understand where he’s coming from. Been there and done that, but I have also learned and met many open-minded individuals through the entire controversy. I feel that the Vietnamese-American community is not so conservative anymore. My negative reaction to Pirated! is not the homosexuality (I don’t have a homophobic problem) but the way he presented it. The experience is pretty disgusting when listening to Dalena singing “Lan va Diep” while watching two guys fucking, especially when we understand the lyrics. “Lan va Diep” is not a lovemaking tune. A couple has to be real tasteless to be humping to that song. He should have just incorporated some Chinese-translated songs, and the scene would have worked fine. Maybe a Vietnamese campy version of ABBA’s “Voulez Vous” would be better.

Speaking of Dalena, Cover Girl: A Gift From God is an eighteen-minute documentary on the talented American female who sings perfect Vietnamese. Hoang pulled together clips from Thuy Nga’s Paris By Night video, and he did a horrendous editing job. The film fails badly because it gives viewers the wrong impression about Dalena (she did look horrible on some of the Thuy Nga’s clips). The audiences were giggling and laughing at her. So the video comes across as an exploitation of Dalena, but I am glad that wasn’t Hoang’s intention. He reemphasized at the end of the lecture that he respects her talent and the film was not meant to be ridicule.

I give Hoang props for his openness about his cultural and sexual identities. In Forever Bottom!, he wants to give viewers the feeling of fucking an Asian guy by putting us, the audiences, in the top position. The four-minute clip shows the pleasure of the bottomhood as the guy being slammed in the anal in various public places including in the car, on the beach, and on the bench. Hoang gets his point across well with the in-your-face, hardcore style, but he should have done it a professional and classy manner. I also hope that he reaches deeper into Vietnamese music around the world rather than just relying on Thuy Nga’s production for his research on Vietnamese pop culture. His perception on Vietnamese music is the recycling of same old songs. That is what he gets when he only looks at Thuy Nga’s products. The music scene has been evolving drastically and many new, original works are from independent musicians around the world and especially in Viet Nam. And for art’s sake, learn the aesthetics of filmmaking. I highly recommend Hillman Curtis on Creating Short Films for the Web.

The remaking of the classic opera Nua Doi Huong Phan is another artless piece of shit from Thuy Nga Production. The actors’ performances are passable (with the exception of Manh Quynh whose acting skill is equal to none and whose face always has that chicken-swallowing-rubber-band paleness to it), but the editing is horrendous.

Who are they trying to fool by incorporating shots of Viet Nam sceneries into the actual production outside of Viet Nam? The differences between the two are significance. A typical scene would start out with a shot of a ghetto part of Sai Gon then cut into a half-assed setting of a broken home somewhere in the States. For the sake of art, if Thuy Nga wanted to capture the visual aesthetics of Viet Nam, film the entire show in Viet Nam. If they don’t want to deal with the politics, just do it in the States. Mixing and mashing the two places together is disorienting and annoying.

The worse element of the film is the sloppy sound editing. A dialogue is loud and noisy but when the actors are about to do an opera soaring, the sound switches to a studio recording, which is quieter and clearer. In one act, Hoai Linh was doing a superb job of conveying an angry dad and he yelled real loud, but suddenly the studio sound cued in and dropped his voice. I know right away, he is about to sing.

What is up with the make-up artists? They tried to make Huong Lan looks older by drawing lines on her face. As she stepped into in scene, my first reaction was like, “What the heck is a cat woman doing in Nua Doi Huong Phan?” So when she sobbed, her face was a big mess. Looking at her face reminded me of my own back in 1991 when I needed a trick-or-treat makeup, and my sister did a much better job than Thuy Nga’s artists.

So if you’ve been caught up into the whole Thuy Nga’s buzz about Nua Doi Huong Phan, save yourself twenty bucks. If you want to cry a river, try to look for the infamous rendition with Thanh Nga in it. Did I purchase the DVD? You’re crazy!

Like I haven’t had enough of politic on my own works already. I wanted to see V for Vendetta for some mind-blowing special effects or something along the line of Sin City’s comic style, yet I am in for another political treat.

The whole time, I kept guessing that the director, James McTeigue, is using the technique of covering up the main character with a mask, and eventually revealing his face in the end. But that is not the case; V is a Phantom-of-the-Opera terrorist from start to finish. V is not just a dangerous terrorist but also a powerful killer without having to use guns, and he’s a hero. Since when does a terrorist is considered to be a hero? At the end of the film, people worship him by dressing in black and wear his mask marching down the street. For a minute, I thought I was watching Eminem’s “Mosh” video.

Politic has definitely killed the film, and the computer-generated animation from Wachowski’s brothers was also disappointing—nothing new, same old shtick. So after watching the film, I feel that V is more appropriate for Venti Latte then Vendetta. The English accents combined with the diplomatic talks were given me a hard time staying awake.

Pedro Almodovar’s Bad Education is one rough, raw, and wicked motion picture. Priest molests boy; boy ejaculates boy; queer blows man; man fucks man. As provocative as it sounds, the film is breathtaking because of the imaginative storyline, lurid cinematography, and ingenious performances, noticeably Gael García Bernal whose acting is superb in both gay and queer roles. Furthermore, the soundtrack and musical score added tremendous enhancements to the work. The way the plot reveals itself is both clever and original while the script, which involves sex, lust, crack, revenge, and murder, keeps us engaging from beginning to end.

Ang Lee, a versatile director, is always up for new challenges. In his latest film, Brokeback Mountain, he struck a bisexual chord. Two cowboys, Ennis Del Mar (Heath Ledger) and Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal), work together as sheepherders. While on the job they have anal sex after profound drinking and smoking during a cold night up in the mountain. The special bond between the two grows stronger even after they went off on their own ways. Despite being married with children, the two would arrange to go “fishing” several times a year, and their relationship gets deeper over the decades.

Even though the film is a complete turn from what Lee has directed before, one thing still remains the same, and that is his sensitivity for the beauty of nature. The landscapes are gorgeous thanks to cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto; however, the heart and soul of the film is the breathtaking performances from Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal. The kisses are passionate; the tears are convincing; and the emotional expressions come through. These two guys deserve the recognition for their unbelievable work. I am not a homophobic, but it takes guts to kiss another man on screen.

Focus Features has created one of the most striking films of the year. The script, which is written by Larry McMurtry and Diana Ossana based on Annie Proulx’s short story, is tight. The acting is superb (Anne Hathaway added some visual aesthetics to the film while Michelle Williams is fantastic in her supporting role). The soundtrack is soul steaming (especially the finger-picking guitar of the folk songs). The story is heartrending. Brokeback Mountain makes a comeback for Lee after the flopping of Hulk.

With Kung Fu Hustle, Stephen Chow churns out yet another brilliant work with the fusion of martial arts, special effects, and his sense of humor. Chow not only directs, writes, and performs, but he also does whatever it takes to entertain us. So before entering the theater, leave your common sense at the door, and enjoy the show – remember to silence your cell phone too. My cell phone joke might not work, but Chow’s pop-culture references work like a charm, especially the Buddha’s Palm and the Roadrunner commercial. The hair on fire is not another stab at Michael Jackson, I hope.

Of course, Chow’s comedy plays an important role in the film, but the kung fu sequences are also gorgeously choreographed, thanks to Yuen Wo Ping whose works include Kill Bill, Matrix and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Despite the lack of blood spills all over the screen like Kill Bill, Kung Fu Hustle illustrates Chow’s violent and brutal comic style. If the fighting, the axing, the flying, the screaming, or nothing in the film is convincing, the little romance between the sweet but muted girl (Huang Sheng Yi) and Sing (Stephen Chow) might be.

The plot of Kung Fu Hustle might not be compelling, but it serves Chow well, and allows him to go nuts with other aspects. Sing started the trouble between the ruthless Axe Gang and poor group in the Pig Sty Alley. The Axe thugs are tough, but the kung fu fighters in Pig Sty are tougher. After losing the battle, the Axe gangleader seeks professional killers for revenge. The fighting scenes take off from there. In between the chaos, Chow cleverly sneaks in a few flashbacks for a romantic story, and some quiet moments from the beautiful Huang Sheng Yi.

Kung Fu Hustle is a type of film that can be enjoyed by paying attention to the aesthetic experience. Leave your personal judgment behind and just focus on the work of art itself. That way, you’ll get Chow’s jokes and appreciate the film more.