Duck Season, The Hidden Blade, Once in a Lifetime, & Three Times

Duck Season was a movie made for my friend Matthew Barney Gumble (hey, I decided to use their pre-approved interwebs handle, if you don't have one already, get one, they're for all awesome people!). Two fourteen year old Mexican kids are left in their apartment with enough money for a pizza and two cokes, and they want to spend the entire day playing Halo. Unfortunately for them, a 16 year old female neighbor shows up wanting to use their oven to bake a cake, the power goes out, the pizza guy shows up 11 seconds late and refuses to leave when they say he showed up 11 seconds late for the 30 minute price guarantee. So one of the boys ends up challenging the pizza deliveryman to a game of Pro Evolution Soccer (Man U v Real Madrid) after the power comes back on. And then the cake burns, the next one is terrible, and some pot brownies are cooked and consumed. To get any more specific would be a shame, because it's a little film that works. It was produced by Alfonso Cuarón, so at least Cuarón's helping to improve Mexican cinema. Not that just by existing and making great movies he hasn't helped enough.

The Hidden Blade made me think at at least a few times in it that I'd seen it before. This was, of course, impossible, but I had déjà vu couple times. And then I realized why: it was directed by Yôji Yamada, who also directed The Twilight Samurai. And is also about a reluctant samurai having to fight someone he doesn't want to. I love that a guy who's made all of these rote films for so many years can make these two great meditations on samurai culture. This one isn't as good as The Twilight Samurai, but it's certainly a far happier ending. And really, when it makes total sense, I love that.

Once in a Lifetime: The Extraordinary Story of the New York Cosmos is a short little documentary about the New York Cosmos, the star team of the NASL, with Pelé, Franz Beckenbauer, Giorgio Chinaglia leading the way to titles and the ruination of soccer as a major sport in this country. Well, that and the overexpansion. But I do wish that more leagues used sudden death and shootouts, as those seem pretty awesome. Not awesome: Giorgio, who comes off as a complete ass. It's a flashy documentary with lots of edits, but the footage includes bits from the games, and you never really realize just how amazing they were until you see them doing those incredible things on a pitch. Interesting for those who want to see soccer footage and people arguing about their recollections of events.

Three Times starts with Qi Shu playing snooker in 60s fashion while Smoke Gets in Your Eyes plays in 1966. Well, in case you were wondering, that is all you have to have to make me interested in a film. That was also, by far, the best of the three sections in this film about love in 1966, 1911, and 2005 in Taiwan from Hsiao-hsien Hou, who also directed Qi Shu in Millenium Mambo, and again coaxes a multilayered performance from the former Category III actress. I think I wasn't familiar enough with the history of Taiwan to understand the backstory that probably was the basis for the timing of the earlier two segments. Well, it's quite possible (and likely, based on Wikipedia and a line about the Wuchang Uprising) that 1911 was picked due to its importance to Taiwanese history, but 1966 doesn't seem to have any relevance. And given the anachronistic use of Rain and Tears (a 1968 song from Aphrodite's Child, Vangelis's band (before going solo and scoring Chariots of Fire and Blade Runner among others)), it could have been set in 1968 and not had a problem. Or maybe there's a personal reason for it. But a soldier going off to be a soldier and then coming back to search for the pool hall girl he fell in love with in one day and then travelling all over Taiwan (I imagine, my knowledge of Taiwanese geography is even rougher than my knowledge of Taiwanese history) looking for her is right up my hopeless romantic alley. The other two, 1911's concubine trainer and the journalist and 2005's epileptic bisexual musician and photographer, just aren't as good. As an unrepentent lover of all things Wong Kar-Wai, the obvious parallels with his period pieces didn't hurt my appreciation for 1966.