Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today I write to you in the midst of a furious productivity burst, as I charge through my last outstanding Current Projects while also working on various independent creative endeavors. Having broken through the anxiety of doing right by Evangelion’s most legendary episodes, I’ve been savoring my return to the series that first sparked my love of anime, and learning I do indeed have a whole lot to say about the show that made me who I am. And with my house now steadily marching through their third DnD campaign, I’ve been balancing independent writing between whittling journal entries describing that campaign’s progress and plotting out postgame adventures for our previous campaign.
There’s little more satisfying than hearing your players demand they get to spend more time in your world, and I’m doing my best to honor that request with suitably harrowing new adventures. Anyway, I might share some of my in-character diary entries or design documents soon, but for now, we’ve also got a pile of fresh films to talk about. Let’s get to it!
First up this week was Ugetsu, an acclaimed feature by Sansho the Bailiff director Kenji Mizoguchi. Adapting two stories from Ueda Akinari and a third from Guy de Maupassant, the film concerns two Sengoku-era brother-in-laws, Genjuro and Tobei. These two humble farmers dream of acquiring wealth and riches through their pottery side business; Genjuro sees himself as a would-be noble in temporary disarray, while Tobei wishes to become a gallant samurai. In spite of the rightful caution of their wives, the two set off to realize their fantasies, while their families end up suffering the cost of their hubris.
Like Sansho the Bailiff, Ugetsu is a poignant and beautiful production, each camera setup chosen with the care of a painter setting his easel. Unlike Sansho, the film is also frequently lighthearted and energetic; there is a clear vitality in the life these brothers share with their loved ones, which only makes their undoing all the more tragic. Life is brimming with opportunities, but opportunities always imply consequences; as their village elder warns them, rapid wealth acquired during wartime is fickle, and our ambitions need always be tempered by a grounded understanding of our circumstances, values, and potential.
The film serves as a natural companion piece to Sansho; both concern themselves with finding purpose and joy in the least equitable of circumstances, both are highly suspicious of wealth and power, and both ultimately understand that the most important lessons are the hardest won, full understanding frequently coming at the cost of all we were fighting for. But in Mizoguchi’s hands, even the cruelty of the world is rendered alluring and poetic; tragedy is a sonorous lament of what could have been, and the peaceful rhythm of everyday labor possesses a dignified vitality of its own. I wouldn’t want a Mizoguchi film to happen to me, but I’m sure I’d appreciate the scenery on my own road to ruin.
Our next viewing was Undisputed, a boxing drama starring Ving Rhames as a heavyweight champion thrown in prison following a conviction for rape, and Wesley Snipes as the champion of his prison’s underground fighting ring. The two butt heads from the start, but an underground title match organized by the prison’s mafia don ringleader (a much-welcome Peter Falk) just might provide the opportunity both are looking for.
To be honest, we only watched Undisputed because my eyes were already focused on its sequel, wherein Rhames is replaced by Michael Jae White, who is pitted against a fresh-faced Scott Adkins in a Russian prison. That direct-to-video sequel was allegedly a secret early gem of Adkins career, but the original Undisputed was widely and deservingly panned. Snipes and Falk do their best here, and I appreciated the film’s ripped-from-the-headlines grittiness and Natural Born Killers-esque news interludes, but the film cannot escape the emotional void at its center. Ving Rhames’ character is simply a monster – he’s clearly guilty of that rape he keeps denying, and his behavior in prison is that of a feral beast, constantly responding to offers of help or alliance with overwhelming violence. There is nothing complex, sympathetic, or interesting about Rhames’ character, and thus nothing compelling to be drawn from his journey through the film. I did quite enjoy the energetic and well-shot fight sequences, but Undisputed is on the whole a frustrating and frankly somewhat uncomfortable watch.
Fortunately, the rumors about Undisputed 2 proved true, as the film offers a generous assortment of sequences with Adkins kicking outrageous amounts of ass. Literally, as any Adkins fans would surely know – the man’s high kicks are legendary, and with this film landing so early in his career, his speed and agility have never been more impressive. In a more just world, Adkins would have been discovered early and elevated immediately, enjoying a Jackie Chan-style maturation through his own cinematic action empire. As is, he might have had to spend decades slumming it in the direct-to-video market, but at least that thankless trek has left us unbalanced gems like Undisputed 2.
We then checked out 27 Dresses, a romantic comedy starring Katherine Heigl as your classic ever-the-bridesmaid, never-the-bride gorgeous wealthy successful twenty-something who just can’t find the right man. Heigl has a serious crush on her boss and a bone to pick with a cynical wedding columnist played by James Marsden (apparently he’s seeking the top spot on the New York Times highly contested wedding beat). However, several wacky meet-cute scenarios later, she might just realize there’s more to Marsden than meets the eye.
27 Dresses is unfortunately an entirely rote execution of an exceedingly familiar story, possessing none of the wit or personality needed to really sell two people as disastrous alone but delightful together. It’s a shame, because Heigl and Marsden are both fine comedic actors, but nothing in the script is capable of selling them as genuinely falling in love. The film offers precisely one earnest, endearing scene: the two of them drunkenly faking the words to “Benny and the Jets,” a convincingly romantic scene that fundamentally feels distinct, like something out of a couple’s scrapbook rather than a screenwriter’s notebook. But one scene alone is not enough to save this altogether exhausted feature.
Last up for the week was The Gunfighter, a Henry King western starring Gregory Peck as the famed gunfighter Jimmy Ringo. Once, Ringo dreamed of achieving wealth and infamy as the fastest gun in the west; these days, he’s happy just to finish a glass of whiskey without some upstart kid saying “he doesn’t look so tough to me,” and instigating one more pointless shootout. Fatigued and lonely, he seeks to reunite with his lover Peggy (Helen Wescott) and young son – but legends die hard, and with a squad of avengers on his heels, it may already be too late to leave this life behind.
The Gunfighter is a delightful potboiler of a feature, taking place largely in and around one saloon, and effectively ratcheting tension as more and more citizens of the town realize they’re playing host to a “murderous” celebrity. In its countdown-to-execution structure and general fatigue with the alleged values of the old west, the film quite reminded me of High Noon, though more centered on aging and personal regrets than the moral character of the nation. And Peck is of course fantastic as Ringo, capturing the exhaustion of an old soldier, the coiled threat of a lifelong gunslinger, and the idealistic longing of a man who discovered too late what is most precious in life. A phenomenal little feature in all regards.
