Stop-motion animation has always been an underrated part of animation history. Though many of the earliest examples of animation have their roots in this specific sub-category, it never seems to garner much attention outside of the obvious forays from Aardman. I have nothing but the deepest of admiration for stop-motion. The amount of meticulous work that goes into, quite literally, crafting something for so many years is never not admirable. Having had to make this sort of project in my college days, I completely sympathize with the animators that have to spend full days going frame by frame, making sure everything looks even close to being decent looking. As such, I’ve become more and more drawn to this specific artform.
I initially wanted to include this in a grander animation article, one that wasn’t strictly limited to such a specific style, but as I began thinking about the types of stop-motion films, my mind gravitated to many different choices. I’ve primarily decided to talk about films that I feel are more geared towards older audiences. With this, I’ll be able to show just how variable stop-motion is outside of the rubbery look of the typical Aardman style. I can’t think of a better movie to start talking about than the one that inspired me to make this a separate thing: The House.
Our House, One That’s Very Much Discreet
When this film turned up on Netflix, it was one that I grew increasingly interested in the more I read into it. Netflix originals tend to follow a rather similar, Indie vibe structure, so to have a stop-motion, anthology film make its way onto the front page came as a pleasant surprise. Do know that I’m not simply including this to apply something relevant to the post, (though it does help) I also found myself mesmerized enough that I simply couldn’t skip past it.
Three short stories make up this unsettling film, all with the commonality of a single, titular house. The first story sees a poverty-stricken family, a husband, wife and their two daughters, suddenly given a strange and imposing house by a mysterious craftsman. The married couple find themselves fully taken by the house, but the elder daughter senses a more sinister atmosphere looming over it. The second tale sees an anthropomorphic rat trying to sell the house to possible tenants, hopefully dragging him out of the homeless rut he’s led himself into. Two possible buyers decide to take advantage of his desperate nature, and begin living there with the promise that they will eventually buy it, driving our protagonist crazy. The third story focuses on an anthropomorphic cat who is looking to fix up the house, but can’t quite gather the money, due to her two tenants who consistently avoid paying her rent. Eventually, she finds her life thrown into disarray as a meditative guru begins changing things, pulling her two friends into alternative lifestyles that could see them leaving, a realization of what she truly values: money or friendship.
Many have often looked at stop-motion animation is inherently creepy looking. I suppose it comes from these stylized mannequins in motion, warping the way we look at inanimate objects. The House is a film that utilizes this discomfort perfectly. All three shorts contribute to this haunting feeling that flows over the house. The first story, especially, makes use of Edwardian imagery and doll-like caricatures, underlined by the unsure tone of the story. The second and third shorts don’t quite have that same effect, but there are elements of that fear of the unknown.
What I think makes this film, in particular, worth watching is it’s darker sense of humor. The first short is treated much more seriously, but there’s a lot of comedy poured into the other two. Their issues that most people can relate to, with animal protagonists that also behave like their real life counterparts. The rat character lives within the walls of his own house and scrounges for whatever he can get. The cat character is obsessed with staying put, refusing to change up that comfort zone. There’s a subtle intelligence to the writing that I could write about all day, but that would be better served as its own review. Since it’s brand new, and a Netflix original, you have no excuse not to check it out.
Wes Anderson’s Fantastic Canine Capers
I have spoken about Wes Anderson on more than couple of occasions. A while back, I did a ranking list of my top five favorites to come from the indie-popular director, but one of the films that didn’t quite make the list was the Roald Dahl book adaptation, Fantastic Mr. Fox. Not only is it the most popular of the two animated films he’s directed, but is considered by many fans to be one of his best pieces of work, period. While it never made my list, I do have a great admiration for it. I grew up surrounded by the works of Roald Dahl, and as I was getting into Wes Anderson’s films, I was excited to see this one. Regardless of my slight differing with the general public, I still adore this film.
Centered around the titular Mr. Fox, we watch as he, his family and friends fight vigilantly against the humans that are looking to destroy his home. The anthropomorphic cast of characters slowly begin to formulate a plan to take down their operation. During all this, we get a rather poignant story of Mr. Fox’s son feeling neglected, overshadowed by his naturally talented cousin, beginning an internal rivalry that seems rather one sided. It’s a story of accepting your family, no matter their flaws; a simple message delicately expressed.
Don’t let the childish exterior deter you from looking into this further. Though it may be based on a children’s book, and presented in a way that invites younger audiences, this is very much a Wes Anderson film with a new coat of paint. Anderson’s style is so distinct, with it’s quirky charm and symmetrical visual style, it creates a feeling of warmth that anyone can appreciate. Anderson balances this childlike wonder with plenty of darker elements that spreads across his entire body of work.
The stop-motion in this film feels more stick-like than the more elastic look of something like Aardman. It’s a style that feels literally artistic, like watching a painting come to life. It’s only enhanced by that cinematography that makes Anderson’s style so special. It also makes great use of its medium, utilizing slapstick to the best of its limitation, with extra materials to represent smoke clouds and other such cartoony effects. Like any other Anderson film, it’s a charmingly pleasant film, perked up with a macabre sense of humor. But where Fantastic Mr Fox excels, I feel the next film of his does twice as much.
Wes Anderson’s second foray into the realm of stop-motion (not counting the small moments in Life Aquatic) comes from the much more glanced over, Isle of Dogs. Having seen this before the prior film, I really didn’t know how an Anderson-led animated film would fare. Isle of Dogs was one I absolutely fell in love with upon the first watch. I understand that ‘Mr Fox’ is far more beloved, but the creativity and Eastern-influenced location and dirtier art-style, amongst other things, led me to pick this as my number two Anderson movie in general.
The tale is of a young Japanese boy traveling to an island where dogs have been banished by the country’s leader, supposedly due to a deadly flu that the canines carry. This boy has come to find his own pet dog through sheer defiance and perseverance. Upon the island, we focus on a small group of dogs led by a cautious leader. He has doubts about helping the child, but is strung along thanks the optimism of his peers. As the boy and the dogs make their journey round the junk-laden island, a young student back in Japan becomes enthralled in a conspiracy that could expose the leader’s true intentions.
There’s so much more to the story of this film than a simple premise of a ‘human/animal adventure’ that can often feel childish. If anything, this film is geared more towards adults. It’s a little grittier and violent, being more akin to Anderson’s other films. There’s a great message of perseverance that speaks to anyone, especially those who find companionship in pets. While I can’t exactly attest to that love of dogs, I do understand the idea of not letting anything stand in your way to maintaining that friendship, or any relationship for that matter, even to those who greatly oppose it.
While Anderson’s comfortable style is still very much here, I do feel as though the film is his most distinct. The brighter oranges that overlayed Fantastic Mr Fox is switched out for muted grays. There’s a lot more realism in the style, but is nicely complimented by the distinct designs of each individual character. The animation feels very real, much less stick-like than ‘Mr Fox’ did. The way Japan is portrayed with a delicate balance of bright, beautiful colors and the dark, imposing atmosphere is nothing short of ingenious.
The Nightmare Before C…oraline
I don’t want to spend as much time with this one as the others, mainly due to the fact that it’s fairly more recognized. Coraline is still a film that needs as much publicity as possible, because it truly is one of the best films in this format. Directed by Henry Selick, whom actually directed the hit film, The Nightmare Before Christmas, brings us a Burton-esque, twisted tale of a young girl who feels neglected by her parents and finds herself venturing into an alternate reality where doppelgangers, with button eyes, of said parents wait for her. Initially, they seem to be better alternatives to Coraline’s parents, but more sinister things begin to emerge as the film progresses. In one of the darkest and most unsettling children’s animation, Coraline is one that deserves to be so much more than a cult classic.
There’s almost an immediate comfort with how this film looks. Those who adore the art-deco, gothic style that Tim Burton has made prominent will feel right at home here. But unlike Burton’s more recent movies, Selick manages to deliver a product that is genuinely unique and darkly fascinating. It emphasizes the creepiness of the world around it, presenting a mad, colorful alternate reality that contrasts the desolate view of Coraline’s home world. It’s a film that takes full advantage of its model-designed world by turning its characters into literal dolls. Compared to the other films that make up this obscure animation studio, none have ever compared to Coraline.
The Anomaly of Loneliness
Anomalisa has been a film that fails to leave my mind since I watched it at the beginning of last year. Co-directed by Charlie Kaufman and Duke Johnson, it’s a story that provides us with an almost pessimistic of the real world we’re all living in. Our main character is a high-earner within the retail industry and is presenting his new book to a crowd of aspiring retail workers. Tired of his miserable life and seeing indistinguishable faces, he finds himself head over heels for a woman who is visually distinct. A woman that is enamored by our disheveled protagonist, the two begin an overnight relationship that allows our retail manager to escape from the monotony of the world.
There is no screen-writer that has felt more important to me, nor as entirely relatable as Charlie Kaufman. He’s someone that has always explored mundane life through his own self-projection, and Anomalisa is no different. It’s a film that taps into that desire for new and spontaneous experiences that our minds naturally yearn for, never satisfied with what we have. How a person of their own destruction can finally find happiness in a fleeting moment. The film runs with this pseudo-romance angle til a significant moment in the final act. It’s rare to find a film that feels so natural, all the while, being completely animated.
The style of this film speaks to the pessimistic view of life that the protagonist has. It took some time for me to notice, but you slowly realize that every side character outside of our two main characters all have the same face and voice. Each character model has seams that connect the upper and lower parts of the face that seem like a stylistic choice at first, until a dream sequence does much more with it that I dare not spoil here. There’s a constant shadowed filter over the movie that serve to highlight the main characters, as if the audience is being tempted in to ignore the others around them. Even aside from all this, this film has some of my favorite cinematography, even in comparison to some of the greatest live action films.
I could rant and rave about Anomalisa all day. It’s simply a beautiful, if entirely depressing film that I feel more people need to see. Whenever I see detractors of animation on the internet, or those who look at the medium as being strictly for kids, Anomalisa is one that I point towards. Want to be left with an existential crisis, but also with a life-changing experience, then PLEASE check this one out.
Paul Thomas Anderson is a director I’ve had very little history with. Slyly cruising by my excessive film foraging, PTA was never a director I felt compelled to go out of my way for. Last year, I finally sat down and watched a handful of his library; how wrong I was to ignore such a phenomenal film maker. With films like Boogie Nights, Punch-Drunk Love and Phantom Thread, I felt so disappointed in my past self. Much like a certain other Anderson-named director, PTA has a solid ‘no-miss’ track record. When Licorice Pizza came across my radar, my first reaction was a slight wince at the ridiculous title, but I soon became fascinated with its Boogie Nights vibe, like a return to PTA’s roots. Heavily inspired by the acclaimed director’s teen years, Licorice Pizza is a coming-of-age story that both dares to tackle an uncomfortable dynamic, while also capturing a nostalgic picture of the radically evolving seventies. It almost feels redundant to state this, but it looks we have another knockout. This is Paul Thomas Anderson’s Licorice Pizza.
This retro love tale, placed in the seventies, focuses on two age-distant lovers, Gary (Cooper Hoffman) and Alana (Alana Haim.) Gary is a fifteen year-old child actor who becomes infatuated by the twenty-five year-old Alana. Obviously, Alana doesn’t want to date a literal child, but she finds herself cosmically tied to the over-ambitious teen. The two begin to formulate plans that could see themselves becoming entrepreneurs, selling water mattresses. During this time, Gary helps Alana pursue a career in acting. Both begin to find success in their own rights and begin relationships with others, but that yearning for Alana that Gary has persists, all the while, Alana begins to question her own feeling towards the young businessman. What runs throughout is this constant psychological warfare between the two, as well as a constant tug-of-war between childish behavior and maturity.
One thing that I’ve come to enjoy most about PTA’s films is his ability to bring psychological issues into a physical form. Licorice Pizza is full of allegorical genius that had me looking more and more for clues to this greater implication. The idea of this struggle to mature, leaving behind the idea of immaturity altogether is personified in all the side characters that make up this movie. Gary acts like an anchor for Alana to remain childish, even though she is desperate to live up to this social standard of maturing. The noticeable age difference can certainly feel off-putting, I was quite uncomfortable at several moments, but it’s more what these characters represent that makes it so endearing. The movie is posing the idea that maturity is subjective, that you can’t just let go of that younger self. It’s even shown in the adults that come in Alana’s life. Older men that feel the need to keep part of themselves secret.
One of the main issues I had did come from this relationship dynamic. There’s a fine line between trying to get your allegorical message through to people, while also alienating said audience by portraying an adult-minor romance story. The film does make it apparent how illegal the romance is, with Alana having to aggressively shout this idea back at Gary whenever he makes advances, but the film is very supportive of this being a thing. I suppose what makes me, and others, root for these two to become a couple comes from how excellent the writing is. The dialogue speaks more to the mental maturity of the characters. Every time one of the leads tries so hard to be mature, both of them become subject to constant name-calling and loud bursts of anger. If you’re not like myself and don’t go into movies actively looking for what the hidden context is, then you might be put off by this extremely taboo relationship, but I do believe the film eases you into the implication, being something that anyone can catch onto. By the end, my view on these characters was completely flipped.
There are so many memorable side characters that make up this film that it was hard to fit them into the plot synopsis. We get a sort of revolving door of characters, but the most noticeable ones are the likes of the insane movie actor that threatens the leads. Bradley Cooper shines in this cameo role, being both entertaining and a great example of that spoiled, childish allegory. Sean Penn plays this seedy movie producer that immediately comes onto Alana, playing into her young and ambitious personality, then moving onto an insane motorcycle stunt for the public to awe at. There’s a business man that works with the two leads to help finalize their water bed company, who is also dating a string of Japanese women, all the while speaking to them in overtly racist accents because he thinks that will make him more coherent. There’s this immature madness the purveys the film, and it’s never not hilarious.
This film is brimming in atmosphere. If you’re not too partial towards Romance films, I’m not too favorable myself, there is so much more that goes into this. Subtlety hidden in the film appears to be this scathing commentary on the rich and wealthy. There’s quite a lot of representation that goes into Hollywood. Every-time we see someone in this recognized industry, their often portrayed with some sense of elitism. Whether it’s a drug-fueled actor that threatens to kill a group of teenagers, an aged actress that hates when her limelight is stolen or a middle-aged movie producer that tries to groom a young actress there’s clearly something more to the film than one simple message of maturity. This film really knows how to play with the audience’s emotions, as these uncomfortable scenes often follow the comedic, light-hearted moments; something that PTA has perfected across his entire career.
If you’re like me, you might find yourself lost in the seventies aesthetic. Similar to Boogie Nights, PTA manages to make you feel nostalgic for an era that you weren’t even around for (or maybe you were.) The cinematography captures this psychedelic era with scenes adorned in bright colors and distinct outfits. The soundtrack uses some of the greatest songs to come out of this era, many instances had me smiling a dumb grin all throughout. The editing is often very slow and melodic, with specific dialogue being heightened by this drug-like state. The dialogue is just one of the stronger elements of the movie, mixing childish bickering with desperate attempts to sound more adult, wonderfully performed by every actor involved, including the first-time actors that are the two leads. This film everything about the seventies in all the best ways; not overly pandering, but with an atmosphere that can drag anyone in, no matter the period.
I’ve been sitting on how highly I would rank this film for quite some time. It’s too soon to figure out where I’d place it amongst the other films in PTA’s library, but I can easily say it’s another solid final product. It’s something I desperately needed after seeing the theaters overwhelmed with meaningless block-busters. The fact this even got a cinematic release is shocking in its own right. It is something that I struggle to see resonating with a casual audience, but there isn’t anything too stand-offish about it. It’s mostly dialogue-driven and has that questionable romance angle that can definitely split an unknowing viewer, but I do think it’s something worth watching. We need more films like this in cinemas; something that actually tries to challenge audiences and not just deliver exactly what they expect. With excellent performances, cinematography, editing, music and just about everything else, this is definitely one you need to check out.
Side note: When Wings’ ‘Let Me Roll It’ popped up, I went nuts. I just can’t seem to get away from anything Beatles related lately.
As if I hadn’t already spoken at an excessive amount about the genius that is The Beatles, I’m here to talk about the one thing surrounding the band I haven’t done before: their actual music. I’m a huge movie buff, but my musical knowledge and interest is very limited. I have previously covered the John Lennon, biopic, Nowhere Boy, I reviewed the animated acid trip that was Yellow Submarine, I gave tips and pointers on how the film, Yesterday could’ve been marginally improved and I obsessed over the recent Get Back documentary. This fascination with such an iconic band can be traced back to my childhood, surrounded by their music, my mum played mostly music from the classic era of rock n’ roll. The Beatles were so ingrained in pop culture that it was only natural that I would become over-exposed to their works. But it wasn’t until a few years ago that I became a certified fan.
Doing what I like doing best, I’ve scoured every little morsel of information about the band I can and this short time, I can easily say there is no band I like more. Being one of the only millennials that can make that statement, I understand that what I’m about to talk about is not exactly going to grab the attention of my peers. That being said, I decided to take a crack at going through the largest album in the band’s catalog: the White Album (or simply ‘The Beatles’ as it’s actually called.) While not being my favorite album, it’s hard to deny the importance of such a giant piece of history. So here are my personal rankings of all thirty of this inconsistently structured venture from the most iconic band in history.
30. Revolution 9
Off to a completely unsurprising start to anyone who is familiar with the album. To even classify Revolution 9 as a song would be incorrect. An extremely experimental attempt from John Lennon, with the assistance of his wife Yoko and minimal collaboration from Harrison, sees a collage of random noises and the only “lyrics” being the repeating of the words, ‘number nine’ over and over for the first fifteen seconds. Eight minutes of pure insanity and unsettle, it’s become infamous amongst Beatles fans for how sorely it sticks out in their entire library.
This “song” does have its fans, admittedly, heralded for its artistic avant-garde nature, but I’m afraid I don’t fit into that group. Perhaps its my limited taste in music, but I tend to look for songs that have some sort of melody to them. I definitely find this “song” intriguing and unnerving, but it’s not exactly one that I ever go back to. Perhaps one of the things influencing my dismay towards this is my issues with John’s later ‘artsy’ approach to music in its early stages. I have mixed opinions on Lennon’s music overall, but I feel this has more to do with how little this sound collage did for me. Almost unfair to even count this, Revolution 9 fits undoubtedly at the bottom of my list.
29. Wild Honey Pie
If it isn’t Revolution 9, then Wild Honey Pie typically reaches the bottom of most people’s lists. More often than not, I see nothing but vitriol towards this obvious riff on the more pleasant “Honey Pie” that appears later in the album that Paul McCartney composed solely on his own. An insufferable minute of hellish instrumentation mixed with Paul repeating the words “honey pie” over and over again, it’s hardly considered a song.
When listening to the White Album, trying to marathon the entire thing can be considered something of a gamble. Thirty songs means that not every track is going to be even considered good. Wild Honey Pie is one of those songs that I easily skip past. It’s only a minute long and adds absolutely nothing to the overall atmosphere of the album. It’s oddly placed on the first disc, way before the original Honey Pie song and follows after a song I personally really enjoy. One can easily look at this song as harmless, but the terrible instrumentation, intentional or not, still makes for a jarring turn from the joyous Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da.
28. Piggies
An underhanded jab at authoritarianism written by George Harrison, Piggies definitely feels unique in its portrayal of those in power, with childish instrumentation and nursery rhyme-like vocalization. It’s filled with pig grunts and other types of euphemisms that serve to further that political jabbing, but it feels far too obnoxious for me to place it any higher than in the bottom tier.
Perhaps there is some sort of child-like joy to Piggies that I just couldn’t find myself attracted to. The Beatles have made more childish songs before and after this album, but Piggies feels as though it’s pushing too far in that direction. The frequent pig squeals are nauseating to listen to, reinforcing that childish distaste I have. George Harrison, especially, is what I consider to be the most talented of the Fab Four, so I feel a strange sense of disappointment to put one of his songs so low. His other contributions, however are much higher.
27. Good Night
One of the rare instances of John trying to comfort his first son, Julien, Lennon wrote this song as a soothing lullaby for the young boy. With Ringo Starr taking up the lead vocals, as he has done for various happier, child-like songs, we get a nice, if entirely forgettable closer song for the entire album. Following right after the eight minute sanity test that is Revolution 9, Good Night is your reward. Beloved by a small margin of fans, my placement shouldn’t offend too many.
Good Night certainly isn’t awful, but, as mentioned before, it’s very forgettable. The song is pushed to the wayside, with most listeners inadvertently skipping over it due to how closely placed it is to Revolution 9. I often forget it’s there myself, but that’s not to say this is the only reason I don’t care much for it. While the intention behind the song is certainly heartfelt, the melody is far too dull and monotone. It’s slightly elevated due to Ringo’s slow, comforting voice, but that doesn’t distract from the lack of impact. As a closer for the album, it’s fine, but on its own, it’s one that I could easily throw away. A song that is forgettable can be far more insulting than one that is terrible.
26. The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill
John recalls basing this jaunty little tune about a hunter going on his daily adventures around a situation he witnessed while in India. Supposedly, an American resident of their meditation retreat shot a tiger to death after it tried to maul the elephants that group were riding on. Lennon saw this as hypocritical of the peaceful ways the retreat promoted and wrote this mocking song in response. Yoko Ono provides her first contribution to one of John’s songs, with additional backing vocals and a comedic, child-like voice at one point. It’s a goofy, satirical story-led song, but it obviously didn’t quite find its way into my tastes.
While I appreciate the tongue-in-cheek nature of the song, mixed with the scathing lyrics, I just can’t find myself enjoying it. It just comes across as rather dull; one that I too often skip past upon revisiting the album. The repeated chorus of “hey, Bungalow Bill” feels quite obnoxious and I could never quite gel with the high-pitched vocals from both John and Yoko. It’s not all terrible, and I’ve even found myself humming this tune from time to time. The only thing elevating it from previous songs is that very fact. The comical tone of the song definitely helps, but I can’t think of much else that would save this song for me.
25. Sexy Sadie
Yet another John Lennon song makes it into the lower pantheon of the album. Another sarcastic recounting of a specific event in India, Sexy Sadie is based around the Maharishi’s repeated sexual advances towards Mia Farrow. A slow and monotonous song, it’s certainly one that many fans would consider to be one of the higher tier entries on the album. It’s slow melodic tune hides the severity of the situation that inspired it, being something that screams “John Lennon,” but I with all that said, I have to be on the opposite side of the spectrum.
Sexy Sadie is another song that I can best summarize as “dull.” John certainly excels at the slower and gentler songs, but this one feels rather monotonous. Much like Bungalow Bill, I do appreciate the sly jabbing that runs throughout, but to look at it from a melodic perspective, it failed to connect with me. I obviously don’t hate the song, it’s higher than the others for a reason, but it does come across as rather forgettable, being one I often skip. (John just isn’t catching a break here.)
24. Don’t Pass Me By
The first song Ringo, himself, wrote for the band, Don’t Pass Me By was written by Starr way back in ’62. A loving tribute to Ringo’s passion for Country music, it’s a song that invokes that of the classic era of Country-Rock. A song that almost feels prophetic to Ringo’s later solo work, it’s a song that just screams Ringo Starr; jaunty and childish with the sense that Ringo was thrilled to finally have a song all to his own. So why have I put it this low?
Something that becomes apparent with the White Album is how many “filler” songs make up the crux of the album’s skeleton. The first album where it became apparent that the band was starting to drift apart, it feels as though they’re throwing whatever they can to fill up this monster-sized record. Don’t Pass Me By almost feels like the definition of this “filler” idea. Rather repetitive and lacking in from a catchy beat, in the grand scheme of Ringo songs, it’s simply bland. The main saving grace comes from the cheery instrumental segment that happens midway through. It’s not a terrible song, evident by how I placed it above more loved songs like Sexy Sadie, but it does feel like THE song that would highlight Ringo’s status as the “weakest member.” (I love Octopus’ Garden, as well as Ringo himself. I will defend him with peace and love right to my grave.)
23. Yer Blues
I promise there are more John songs further up the list. John has written many songs describing his mental state or about the specific situations that were causing him strife. “Help!” is easily the most infamous example of this, being a literal cry for help, but none have felt more on the nose or as invasive as Yer Blues. This song reflected the deep sense of depression John was experiencing during his time in India. With lyrics like “Yes, I’m lonely” and “Want to die,” there is no subtlety in John’s overall message. An intense song that feels like a precursor Heavy Metal (a suitable companion to Paul’s “Helter Skelter”) this song goes in hard in every aspect of the word.
For a lot of fans, Yer Blues is one of the main highlights of the album. I certainly like how raw and unfiltered Lennon is throughout the song, but that I’ve put it as low as it is comes from my mixed feelings about rock this heavy. The instrumentation is impressive and can illicit some truly deep emotions, but John’s screeching doesn’t do much for me. I also tend to lean more towards either the upbeat or slow, melancholy songs. This is definitely more a case of the specific style lacking in resonance for me, but I can at least acknowledge the impressiveness that comes from John being so “in-your-face” about how he feels.
22. Honey Pie
Paul’s love letter to the Vaudevillian style music of the golden age can be best described as one of his “granniest” songs ever written. One of four songs that hearken to his love of charming sensibility, it tells a story of a famous actress whose previous lover yearns to reunite with her. A memorable, if entirely corny, opening hears Paul announcing the success of said actress through the speakers of an old-timey radio. charming, if overly sappy song that has left many Beatles fans in a state of complete dismissal. Much like it’s “wild” riff, this seems to be entirely composed by Paul himself.
Honey Pie is always a difficult one for me to nail down. Paul is often heavily criticized for his schmaltzy love ballads and Honey Pie seems to be one of his most reviled. I found myself batting back and forth where I’d put this, especially in relation to the three similar songs that make up the album, but upon repeated listening, this song really got on my nerves. I enjoy Paul’s “granny” songs. They often provide charming little breaks from the deeper more introspective songs, but Honey Pie is far too corny for my liking. Mild indifference soon turned to flat-out cringing. It isn’t as low as the other songs previously mentioned due to it largely feeling harmless. I don’t mind listening to it when it crosses my path, but it’s not one that I go out of my way to listen to. Fun, if entirely corny.
21. Why Don’t We Do It in the Road?
While the Beatles were travelling through India on the roads, a single moment in time saw Paul witnessing two monkeys going at it in the middle of one. Paul found humor in the contrast of raw animal instinct with the peaceful style of the Maharishi and decided to write this aptly named song from this. With a little help from Ringo, Paul managed to create another comical song to go along some of the previously mentioned additions. Paul delivers some grizzly vocals accompanied by Starr’s simple drum beats and fast-paced clapping to create one of the most blunt songs the band has composed.
This appears another song where I find myself disconnected from the fanbase. Many would put this song much further down the list, but I find myself in the higher places of the lower tier. I don’t love this song; it feels a little too basic and feels awkwardly placed on the album, not really fitting anywhere specific. The lack of the other two Beatles also makes the song stand out, as it could’ve used a backing guitar. All that said, it is a funny song. The origin alone makes for a humorous story and the passion that Paul puts into his vocal performance only strengthens the overall tune. It’s also rare that the Beatles were ever this adult with the subject matter. The title is not some sort of euphemism, it’s exactly what it says. I would put this higher, but the songs going forward are just that much better. It’s not bad, it’s just okay.
20. Everybody’s Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey
John wrote this song in reference to the various saying the Maharishi, with the title alone being a nod to his constant saying of “everybody’s got something to hide.” Clearly gaining the most cynicism from the trip to India, John writes yet another scathing song, while also lovingly paying tribute to the man’s personality. It’s a fast-paced song with a continuous beat that feels fun and energetic, ironic considering it’s inspiration of peace-loving guru. With George providing much of the heavier instrumentation, including that amazing guitar solo, and backing vocals, “My Monkey” is loudly memorable.
For the longest time, I was pretty dead-set in putting this much further down on the list. I initially felt as though the song sounded too loud and obnoxious, with the chorus lacking in some sort of comfortable flourish. Aside from my criticism of the chorus, my opinion shifted quite substantially for this list. I love the intensity of the song, it’s so in your face and contrasts the peacefulness of the muse for the song. The instrumentation is the best thing about it, with that guitar riff being the nice bow that ties it all together. I do feel as though the song is rather lacking in its lyrics, being nothing more than quotes, and that chorus I mentioned before is in need of a serious flourish to maintain that intensity, but it’s otherwise a fun and entertaining entry from John.
19. I Will
A rather standard love melody from Paul, I Will isn’t particularly noteworthy other than it was one of the many songs that Paul wrote in India. Another sappy song from Paul, he mostly handles it on his own, with some melodic backing instruments and a consistently somber tone. Often overlooked by many fans, this one could easily be brushed off as just another silly love song written by Paul.
I really struggled to find a place to put I Will on the list. It is by no means a bad song, but it does feel very forgettable. It’s a largely inoffensive song, something that Paul could excel at, but it lacks the ability to stand out from the similar songs that Paul himself composed on the album. I do enjoy the soothing melody and Paul’s softer voice in this one. The acoustic guitar is pleasant to listen to and the additional beats add a nice rhythm to the overall song. It’s just not all that special. Charming, pleasant to listen to, just not all that memorable.
18. Savoy Truffle
George Harrison was gaining the most confidence in himself than he had ever felt around this time and wanted to be known for his overall abilities, rather than being known simply for his transcendental, Eastern influences. Collaborating much with Eric Clapton, George decided to write a song with no meaning whatsoever, gearing Savoy Truffle towards Clapton’s love of sweet foods. Savoy Truffle is quite literally about a savoy truffle. The other foods listed like “creme tangerine” and “coconut fudge” are exactly that: sweets listed on a box of others. Clapton provides a backing guitar to this loving tribute to all those with a sweet tooth. This shows just how amazing the band, or specifically George, could be: turning a meaningless joke song into something genuinely great.
I have a lot of love for George’s compositions. My favorite song from the band is “Here Comes the Sun” and I’ve continued to love almost every piece he’s made. I already mentioned my disliking of Piggies, but that was several songs ago. Savoy Truffle, as unpopular as it appears to be, is one of those examples of how ingenious I find George to be. It’s entirely pointless and just acts as a comical observation by George, and yet it’s incredibly catchy with some phenomenal instrumentation from both Harrison and Clapton. The reason I haven’t placed it any higher is for two reasons: the song is particularly stand-out and it’s buried down below by other greater songs that litter the album. Some songs you’ll see in the list might have more criticisms, but the positives elevate them far above those gripes. Savoy Truffle is a good song, but it’s lacking in the punch that Harrison usually delivers with his smoother compositions or his Indian-influenced pieces.
17. Birthday
A song that was entirely improvised on the spot by both Paul and John. With that apparent laziness, it comes as no surprise that the song’s meaning is about as obvious as you can expect. This upbeat and celebratory ballad is here to make you feel ecstatic over you turning another year older. Loud and boisterous, it isn’t exactly the most popular song among fans. It was intended, by Paul, to be another slow and charming song, but John shifted it into what we have now.
Dipping my toes into the pool of controversy once again, I’ve put a mostly disliked song quite a bit higher than most people would. While I agree that the song certainly FEELS made up on the spot, that doesn’t distract from how ferociously catchy it is. I have criticized other songs on the album for being too in-your-face, but Birthday just feels consistently exciting that I can’t help but put it here. Regardless, I still placed it quite a bit further down than most songs, mainly due to how much of a throwaway it feels. It’s quite literally that. (I’d rather have this sung at me on my birthday than the typical song. Just people screaming at me for two minutes.)
16. I’m So Tired
One of the many songs John wrote about Yoko Ono, I’m So Tired comes from a genuine place. Just before a trip to India, John and met Yoko and began a relationship with her…while still being married to Cynthia. Suffering deeply from insomnia, the letters that Yoko wrote to him were the reason he was able to keep going. In a very similar vein to Yer Blues, this song provides us with an open window into John’s mind and his overall mental state. A slow and melancholy song that occasionally bursts into an explosive shout from Lennon, this one is everything I could’ve wanted from previously mentioned Yer Blues; subtler and slower.
Of the many songs John littered with references to Yoko, I’m So Tired may be my favorite. While it’s certainly exhausting hearing John prattle on and on about Yoko, it’s hard to deny his passion for the artist. Anyone who has suffered with actual insomnia can understand the literal and mental pain that John is going through, but the message is also layered with allegory, also referencing that general feeling of exhaustion that comes from dealing with the struggles of day-to-day life. The instrumentation is parallel to John’s emotions all the way through. It’s only this low on the list because it’s rarely one that I revisit. It work’s perfectly as a one-and-done song and he has, in my opinion, a much better melancholic song later down the list. (Good Night works as a great companion piece to this song.)
15. Martha My Dear
Another sole McCartney contribution, Martha My Dear was a song, oddly enough, written about Paul’s beloved dog. Paul didn’t reveal this til much later and the more you listen to the lyrics, it becomes very obvious. Paul flexes his granny-style song writing yet again with a jaunty little tune that can easily be applied to actual, human love. Technically, Paul is only Beatle that performed on the song, but a full orchestra was bought on to handle the percussion. Despite it’s happy-go-lucky nature, there’s a certain gravity that comes from the prominent brass instruments.
One can easily brush this song off as another one of Paul’s overly-sappy love songs, but as far as that overt sappiness goes, it’s one of the most pleasant ones. Whenever Paul decides to completely helm the ship on his own, it’s always a pleasant experience. While maybe lacking the deep emotional soul of something like Yesterday, Martha My Dear is a loving song that speaks to the idea of endless devotion. Many of the lyrics are a little undermined by the fact that this was inspired by Paul’s dog, but the words are strong no matter the target. That gorgeous climb in the instrumentation from whimsical to celebratory trumpets is simply wonderful. The only reason that I haven’t placed it any higher is due to how it sometimes dips too far into over-sentimentality and it doesn’t quite compare to a later song on this list.
14. Cry Baby Cry
Another slow, melodic song from John, supposedly pulling the title from an advertisement he saw. The song tells a story of a royal family preparing for an arrival. Though never fully elaborated on, the song’s connotative message is one of reassurance and that everything will be okay. Rarely ever climbing out of its somber tone, it’s a rather consistent song with Lennon’s soft voice narrating this nursery rhyme-like melody alongside some fantastic instrumentation.
Cry Baby Cry was possibly the hardest song for me to place. I’ve always liked this song, really taken by that slower pace that John had perfected, but I’ve always brushed it off as more of a filler song. With how little is known about the origins of it, and by how lazily John came up with the title, it almost feels like this was the purpose. If it is to be considered “filler,” then it’s easily one of my favorites. It’s almost on the verge of sounding like a McCartney composition with how nursery rhyme-esque it is. A hard song for me to criticize or even have much of an opinion on, it’s just solid.
13. Long, Long, Long
Stepping away from his sitar-led songs that decorated the last few albums for the first time in a while, George returned to his roots with this slow, emotional song that came to him while meditating in India. Fitting to Harrison’s entire history in the band, he was left alone much of time while there, leaving him feeling a sense of disconnect. Playing in to his religious beliefs, Harrison wrote this song as a message to God. With a beautiful, progressive guitar being accompanied by subtle backing instruments, this one of George’s most honest, pre-solo, song he’s ever composed.
Though I’ll often tout Paul as my favorite member of the band, which will become apparent going forward, I’ve always acknowledged George as an underrated genius. Long, Long, Long was a song I wrestled with for quite some time. Initially, I felt very indifferent towards it, largely skipping over it upon repeated listening of the album, but as time has gone on, and I’ve grown to appreciate George more and more, I can’t help but love the song. George’s gentle voice does a lot to encompass that feeling of sadness and is only strengthened by that mystical guitar. The occasional moments of drums bursting out, but never too loud, add a lot to that idea of desperation. Beautiful and serene, the only reason it’s not any higher is due to how much I enjoy the rest of the album. In the upper-echelon of George songs, it’s one of his best.
12. Glass Onion
Frustrated with the hardcore fanatics looking too much into the lyrics of every song the band has composed, John wrote Glass Onion as a dig at those very fans. A nonsensical song that only serves to reference a handful of the previous songs: Strawberry Fields Forever, I Am the Walrus, Lady Madonna, The Fool on the Hill and Fixing a Hole. It’s slow and almost unsettling tone is like John taunting everyone, as if to encourage the idea of over-analyzing, only to laugh directly in their face. The titular glass onion is the embodiment of John’s intentions: to be able to look through the layers and find nothing. John’s vocals are heavy and the drums and violins have a haunting feel that adds to that atmosphere of unsettle.
Glass Onion felt like a difficult one to place. There are deeper and more intrinsic songs that John alone wrote for the album that I’ve pushed further down the list, and I think the reason for this is just how perfect the satire is. John was a very critical person, often having a careless attitude to his music. I mean that in a completely admirable sense. Glass Onion works both in a comedic, entertaining way as well as a nice reference song that unintentionally celebrates the newer direction the band went in after 1966. The references are well-integrated and have a more cynical tone to them. The line “here’s another clue for you all,” is one of the most direct interactions I’ve heard a musician make to their fans. It’s a great blend of fun cynicism and that Beatles magic that worked so perfectly. (The line is not a reference to Paul being dead.)
11. Mother Nature’s Son
Yet another song that was inspired by their time in India, Paul wrote this song in direct reference to the Maharishi. Naturally, Mother Nature’s Son is possibly the most direct of all this titles. Light on lyrics, it’s a calming acoustic song that encapsulates Paul’s views of the flower-riddled guru. Even aside from the direct references to the Maharishi, one could simply look at this as a love ballad to all things natural. With mesmerizing descriptions of flowery fields and mountain streams, it acts as a window into the things that Paul observed. Coupled with the occasional burst of drums, it’s one of Paul’s most sincere songs across the album.
Never have I felt more conflicted when making this list than the mental struggle that was trying to pick a number ten. Mother Nature’s Son is one that I desperately wanted to make it in that top ten, but the choices I had were just too good that they barely shoved it to the number eleven spot. It’s a gorgeous song that makes great use of Paul’s softer singing voice. With my own love of nature fighting for that attention, Paul’s encapsulation of the natural world is something that spoke to me. It’s just a perfect description of how I look at nature. While it may have been directly inspired by the Maharishi, the man exuded the embodiment of nature. A fantastic, calming song that’s perfect for walks through a sunny forest, I’ll forever be kicking myself for not putting it higher.
10. Helter Skelter
No, it’s not my number one. You’d think it’d be even higher than this. Inspired by an interview with Pete Townshend of The Who fame, Paul was immediately envious of the fact that he was promoting what he considered to be the most intense song ever written. Feeling challenged, Paul came up with this legendary song. Frequently sited as being the first Heavy Metal song ever composed, Helter Skelter is a ferocious song that retools Paul’s typical love ballad into an unbridled and impassioned rock number that uses a fairground slide as an analogy for the whirlwind that is romance. With the most intense vocal, guitar chords and drumming that the band has ever produced, it’s easy to see why this song is so beloved by Rock fans in general.
I admit that Helter Skelter was not a song I was initially favorable towards. I’ve always admired how monumental this song is for essentially crafting an entire sub-genre, but it’s this sub-genre that I’ve struggled to get into. I like Rock music on a very basic level, or as slow melodic tunes, so Helter Skelter took some time to grow on me. The fact that it made my top ten should be indicative of how much I love the song. The most intense the band has ever been, this song is so unapologetically loud and disruptive. Paul flexes his vast range of vocals by absolutely tearing his vocal chords up. To see him take the typical love songs that he’s known for in go in the complete opposite direction with it’s execution is endlessly fun. The biggest highlight comes from the infamous drumming that Ringo is pouring his lateral blood, sweat and tears into. That iconic scream of “I’ve got blister on my fingers” is like a war cry that encapsulates the insanity of the song. It may not fit my specific tastes, but it fully deserves it’s spot on my list.
9. Back in the U.S.S.R.
Paul combined two major song to make this comedic take on the typical American celebratory songs, Chuck Berry’s “Back in the U.S.A.” and the Beach Boys’ “California Girls.” Paul begins this entire album with this strange but incredibly fun song that sees him yearning to return to the prosperous U.S.S.R. With satirical nods to the overly patriotic tunes of the time, it employs lyrics that could be seen as communist propaganda to the unsuspecting listener. With a Beach Boys themed tone that runs throughout and a fast-paced energy that’s easy for anyone to enjoy, it’s an easy pick for the top ten. It begins with a plane landing and ends brilliant with it taking off into Dear Prudence in one of the smoothest transitions between songs that hearken back to the Sgt. Pepper transition.
The Beatles’ albums always seem to follow a trend in which the first song on the album is always a great one, and Back in the U.S.S.R. is no different. As it’s the first, I’ve heard this one too many times to count. It’s two biggest inspirations were initially lost on me, mainly due to my lack of interest in the Beach Boys and my lack knowledge of Chuck Berry, but learning more about the song allowed me to go out and compare. The Beach Boys influence is peppered all over this song, like an alternate universe take where the bands ended up switching places. The constant energy that runs throughout the song is infectious with that wonderful build-up in the very beginning that feels like it’s preparing you for this monster of an album. Paul’s shaky vocals create a sense of excitement and only get more intense as it goes on. Explosive and fun, it’s something that’s never left me head.
8. Rocky Raccoon
Everything that “Bungalow Bill” should’ve been, Rocky Raccoon is another song that tells a story. Written by Paul as a tribute to the classic Westerns of the Golden Age of cinema, it tells of a love triangle between two cowboys, Rocky and Dan, who love a woman named Lil. Dipping into the Country genre, Paul and Ringo collaborated to make a genuinely entertaining and suspenseful story, full of bustling piano pieces and Ringo imitating the sounds of gunshots with his drums, there’s a childish joy that comes from this cowboy love letter. Paul jumps between spoken narration to joyous singing to Country-infused scatting. Just a wonderfully corny song.
Some may find this placement to be far too high compared to some of the songs I’ve already talked about. While I can fully acknowledge to Rocky Raccoon is not even close to being as fascinating as some of the more beloved songs I put lower on the list, there’s just something I find so ridiculously fun about this that it has me rushing back frequently. It stands out on the album, feeling less like a song and more a story, but that isn’t to take away from the genuinely fantastic rhythm. The way the song builds on each moment until it turns into a saloon jig with some amazing piano work is truly brilliant. Paul’s knack for vocal range and impressions is pushed far here as well, making for a rather wholesome experience. (The name is no coincidence, Marvel’s Rocket Raccoon was heavily inspired by this song.)
7. Dear Prudence
During the retreat to India, The Beatles were accompanied by the Farrow sisters. I mentioned Mia being the inspiration for Sexy Sadie, but far more influential to one of their songs was her younger sister, Prudence. The young Farrow became obsessed with the teachings of the Maharishi, being stuck in deep state of meditation for hours on end. Her gurus, concerned about the frequency of her meditation convinced John and George to come up with a song that would convince her to come out. Dear Prudence is the result of this. Mentioning her directly while also creating several analogies around her, this song can be applied to anyone who has become disillusioned with the world. To those who prefer to withdraw into themselves, Dear Prudence begs you come out and play.
For a lot of people, this would probably reach the number one spot, or at least in the top three. I do adore this song, it’s gorgeous in it’s vocals as well as with its soothing instrumentation. As it followed the much louder Back in the U.S.S.R., it acts as something of a come down. I love how gentle it starts, only to turning into something more celebratory. I also found a lot of personal resonance with it, being someone who used to shut himself away from people, it took me a while to venture outside of my comfort zone. Having someone there that knows how to navigate your mind so that they can pull you out of a stupor is something that is often overlooked. This song acts as that warm friend who knows exactly how to bring you out. It’s simply beautiful.
6. Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da
John Lennon once, quite infamously, described this song as being “more of Paul’s granny shit,” hence my repeated use of the phrase. Reportedly despised by both John and George, this song gained a reputation for being the worst song in the band’s entire history, as well as one of the most hated songs in general (according to Wikipedia.) As time has moved on, it seems that the song has grown a massive fanbase, with countless people putting it high on their own lists, and I’m here to be one of those people. Ob-la-di, ob-la-da may be a granny song, but it’s easily Paul’s best in this surprisingly vast sub-category. Inspired by a phrase he heard a fellow visitor in India use on repeat, Paul found the idea of “life goes on” to be a great way to look at life. Heavily inspired by various Ska artists, Paul created this song with heavy Jamaican vibes. A cheery piano-led song that starts with an insane piece a the beginning from an acid-stoned John makes for an infamous, yet polarizing, song.
I love this song. Is it overly cheesy? Yes. Does it sound like another filler song that pads out the album? Slightly. But does it also make for a great, catchy song that’s perfect for social events? Absolutely. It’s hard to find any kind of malice towards a song with such good intent. It’s a song that so perfect to Paul’s mantra in life, with the idea of carelessly going about your day, free of worry. It isn’t substantial and certainly doesn’t compare to the greatest songs in Paul’s history, but it’s just so fun and energetic. Too many times have I hummed this song while working pr doing some menial task. It’s a background song in all the best possible ways.
5. Happiness is a Warm Gun
A song that is so heavily layered in euphemism that most probably wouldn’t have noticed they fooled into enjoying a song about Yoko Ono. Another desperate song for Yoko’s affection, Happiness is a Warm Gun was, at first, inspired by a NRA magazine that road manager, Mal Evans was reading. Finding humor in the idea of a magazine celebrating guns, John wrote another satirical jab at a social norm. He also decided to use this gun-crazed nuts as a basis for the way he viewed Yoko. With a phrase like “when I feel my finger on your trigger” it becomes obvious just how bathed in double meaning this entire song is. Add all this to the darker implications of the title and you get a song that’s layered in all kinds of connotation. And if all that wasn’t enough, the instrumentation is brilliantly executed with some heavy guitar and drum playing that contrasts the slow start. John’s vocals go from soft into a progressive rawness.
I think most would put this song at the top. I admire this song a lo with how much thought went into crafted what easily could’ve been another meaningless satire song, but John’s passion is absorbing. Whatever you may think of Yoko, her mere existence allowed John to make some truly phenomenal music. The entire song is also nicely segmented by different characters that make up this analogy. Even aside from all this, the song is purely masterful in it’s execution. The instrumentation, especially the drums, are the core that elevates this song into into something masterful. While I do admire this song, it just barely made the top five because of how much I love the next four. (This song isn’t about heroin. Stop telling these lies!)
4. Revolution 1
Something that the Beatles object to doing back in the day was placing singles onto albums. Paul felt it was like they were ripping off the fans that bought the separate vinyls, but with the song Revolution, the band felt as though this song was important enough to make it onto the White Album, but in a different tone. The original song was a hard rock song about standing against those who campaigned for a war, but not wanting to fight these people with violence and instead using peace; a precursor to what would shortly follow. The “1” variation that made the album is a slower, jazzier tune that speaks more to the overall message of using peace. John, apparently, intended this to be the original vision for the song.
Unpopular opinion here, but I like this version more than the original. While the hard-delivered vocals and instruments certainly act as a great way to deliver that protesting message, it almost feels contradictory to that idea of a peaceful protest. Revolution 1 is so much stronger in this regard. Even aside from the message, it’s just a great soothing song. The instrumentation is light and John’s high-pitched voice adds a lot to that background. Even the odd bit of deep exhaling creates this feeling of tiredness that feels strangely vital to elevating the song. Putting this higher than “Warm Gun” might be a point of contention for most, but I just find this song too good not to place it any lower.
3. While My Guitar Gently Weeps
Taken inspiration from Eastern Asia for once, George wrote this song as a call for the unrealized love that is buried in the world. Heavily inspired by the Chinese texts of I Ching, the song allowed George to finally let out that untapped music potential he’d been holding back on. Obviously, the themes of tapping into that love we all have is something that ran throughout the band as a whole, but it’s George that was always able to describe the exact feelings that makes love so endearing. The lyrics are beautifully describing this yearn and the addition of the unaccredited Eric Clapton on backing guitar makes one of the greatest songs that the band as ever produced, let alone George. With it being a Harrison-Clapton collaboration, this feels more akin to something you hear on George’s All Things Must Pass album.
These top three songs were next to impossible to narrow down for which would gain that top spot. I knew which three were up there from the start, but I couldn’t picture which one would get the crown. “Gently Weeps” was very close to getting it. As mentioned before, I have nothing but love for Harrison’s distinct identity, but it just couldn’t outdo the other two songs. It’s still a phenomenal piece that highlights George’s genius, with spectacular lyrics, brilliant harmonies and a soaring guitar riff in the middle. George’s soft-spoken voice adds to the idea of finding that untapped love of life. There is never a single moment where it falters. It’s about as perfect a Harrison song can get, but Paul and John have narrowly beat him out.
2. Blackbird
You can easily look at this song as a companion piece to Yesterday. Does it compare to that? Not entirely, by the bone structure is still there. Paul has shifted about in what his intentions were with this song, but something that definitively inspired its inception was hearing the calls of literal blackbirds while meditating in India. Conversely, he has stated the song was heavily inspired by the Civil Rights acts that were going on at the time. The “Blackbird” in the title is quite literally about a black woman. It speaks of the bird flying free, learning to find its own way with the problems that weigh it down. It’s just Paul and an acoustic guitar this time around, but those are often the best Paul songs.
You may have notice that the top four songs on my list follow this pattern of slowing down as we get higher. Blackbird is probably the most calming song in the entire album, and it’s one that everyone has heard. It may not be the most shocking revelation to put it this high on the list, but it’s hard to deny why exactly it makes it there. It’s so perfect in execution. It’s simplistic in all the right ways. There isn’t a lot more I can say about the song, it’s just one that I adore to no end. If I’m feeling down on stressed out, it’s my go-to song to mellow myself out. I was pretty sure when writing this list that Blackbird was going to be my number one. It sat there with the number poised for the entirety of this article, but as I searched my head for why I loved the next so much, I had to bump it right up. Even I’m shocked.
1. Julia
John displays his inner turmoil once again with this somber tribute to his beloved mother. Those who know the history of John’s relationship with his mother are familiar with just how complicated the entire thing was. When she died during his teenage years, it left John in a complicated state of understanding his emotions. In this Lennon-solo song that feels similar to Paul’s “Yesterday,” Lennon writes of the experiences he never had with his late mother, creating images of an ideal life he wanted to experience. Such a simple-sounding song is laden with deep meaning and “what if” scenarios.
Julia is not a song that I see many Beatles fans talk about. It’s certainly not disliked, but it often goes unnoticed, pushed to the second disc of the album with a lot of the more disliked entries. At first, I mostly just forgot about, brushing it off as a slow and uninteresting song. The more I’ve listened to this one, the more I find myself falling in love with it. The way John balances heartfelt honesty with complete fantasy is endearing. Knowing that he was estranged from his mother for years for his life, then having her come into it again when he was a teenager, only for her to die in a car crash adds so much more to that desperate struggle to understand his emotions towards her. As someone who has dealt with a very similar estrangement, I can understand that difficulty to make sense of everything, and how you can forgive that person despite everything. Even aside from this connection, the song is simply masterful. I started and ended this list with a John song. What a twist.
Musicals. A genre I have so sparsely dipped into in my own personal time, but have never really reviewed on account of my noticeable lack of knowledge. I previously reviewed The Blues Brothers, but I always viewed that as more of a comedy. With an article that I am currently writing alongside this one, it’s left me thinking about what film within this almost foreign genre I could cover. No film feels more appropriate to me than the dark and depressing tale of Dancer in the Dark. In a bold attempt at turning Bjork from a transcendental pop singer into a small-time actor, Dancer in the Dark is more than just a simple vehicle. A film that presents this idealistic view of America as more of a hellish struggle to live even the slightest bit luxury. This isn’t a glamorous, picturesque fantasy that most musicals would try to convince you of; it’s the escape the main character needs to get away from the ferocious onslaught of mental anguish that comes her way. With all this happiness that I’m promoting to you, allow me to dive into one man’s cynical view of Western society with Lars von Trier’s Dancer in the Dark.
Bjork stars as factory worker, Selma, a Czech immigrant who came to America to live the life of a stage performer, fascinated by the famous musicals that presented the country as a glamorous fantasy-world. While spends time performing a the local theater, she works at a manufacturing company so that she can raise money for an operation that will prevent her son from going blind, a hereditary illness that she is slowly succumbing to herself. Living a small house in the back garden of her landlords, Linda (Cara Seymour) and Bill (David Morse), she finds herself put in a predicament when Bill asks her for money due to financial woes. The good-natured Selma agrees to do this as long as they keep each other’s secrets. But as if things couldn’t be more strenuous, Linda begins to catch on to the two, believing they are having an affair, all the while, Bill begins to manipulate Selma into giving him more money. With all the pain and stress that infects her life, Selma’s only escape is to imagine the world as an elaborate musical.
As mentioned before, musicals are not exactly my forte, but above all, it’s the drama and conflict that drives this film forward. The story of an immigrant coming to America and struggling to get anywhere in the world is one that has been told a thousand times over, but what makes “Dancer”so unique is this almost pessimistic view. As apathetic as it sounds, I find a lot of fascination from a character being thrown through the worst conditions. This saddened direction is a reflection of capitalistic society and how it treats those who are of the lower class. Selma, performed quite organically by Bjork who give a shockingly great first-time performance, is entirely sympathetic, someone who isn’t cruel and simply desires the need to survive and doesn’t want her son to struggle the way she has. Any other film would find a turning point for the lead character to finally get what they want, a hard-earned journey for both them and the viewer, but this film doesn’t want you to believe in this idea. If things begin to turn around, know that it will not last long.
Selma’s waning eyesight adds so much more than just a simple narrative device. If it wasn’t hard enough watching such a kind and selfless person suffer from financial struggle, having her slowly succumb to a debilitating illness is all the more gut-wrenching. Every action she performs is all for the sake of her son, adding to this depressed reality of how the poverty-stricken masses are left fallen over the American anvil. It’s a struggle that I feel anyone who has endured the strife of being a single parent can relate to, universal from the immigrant background Selma has.
Selma’s landlords provide an extra crutch to this tale of woe. Bill is essentially the villain of the story. He starts almost as sympathetic as Selma herself, but as the movie progresses, his methods in trying to exploit Selma’s good nature become more and more heartless. I found myself internally conflicted with Bill’s situation. In a sense, you understand where he’s coming from: a man who wants to provide for his wife but is always on the verge of financial collapse, but on the other hand, his knowledge of Selma’s eventual blindness makes his exploitation far more callous. There’s this idea that those who are born and bred in America are victim to this money-driven society as well.
Perhaps it’s time to talk about the musical aspect of this film. With how I described the film’s overall tone, it really doesn’t speak to the typicality of the genre. Musicals are often presented as these idealistic views of the world, and Dancer goes in the complete opposite direction, or so it would appear to be. The musical numbers stretch out to specific moments, much like the conventional structure. Unlike those, however, the numbers here are contextualized to Selma’s moments of daydreaming. Frequently, when the stress and boredom of the world weigh down on her, Selma creates these elaborate musical numbers in her head. The moodier lighting that runs throughout turn into a saturated world of energy and colorfulness. Characters burst out into overly-choreographed dance numbers and reality shifts into something far more wild. All of this is punctuated by Bjork’s oddly soothing voice.
How much you enjoy the music of this film can be entirely dependent on how much you enjoy Bjork’s music. As someone who is not that musically knowledgeable, I haven’t ventured too far into the Icelandic singer’s catalog, but I did find myself slowly falling in love with the soundtrack. ‘I’ve Seen It All’ is a song about Selma’s acceptance towards her blindness, only wanting her son to see the world through her eyes and ‘107 Steps’ is a beautiful ballad that sends the character off on her next step in life that feels overwhelming in emotion. These two songs are the most notable ones for myself, but the entire soundtrack is something to listen to, even if you’re indifferent towards Bjork’s style.
What is immediately apparent with the technical aspects of this film is how incredibly low-budget everything feels. The camera quality is noticeably ‘amateurish’ and looks like something anyone could’ve recorded in their spare time. The acting, camerawork and editing all reflect this raw style that could easily throw the average person off. It’s this specific aesthetic, however, that I feel strengthens the tone and narrative of the film. It makes it feel so much more real, as if to be placed side by side with all these characters. It’s not unnatural for film directors to do this for their first films, but this was a little later on down Trier’s filmography. Lars von Trier did have a certain mentality about making films with the bare essentials, and while this film wasn’t purposely approached with that direction, it’s a much needed approach.
Dancer in the Dark is one of those independent films that may be hard to recommend to just anyone. Lars von Trier has made some truly experimental and controversial films like Antichrist and Nymphomaniac, so Dancer feels more pulled back from those. It’s a depressing spin on the conventional musical tropes and doesn’t hold back on its political message. I’m always cautious about the types of musicals I tend to watch, so I wasn’t sure how I would feel about this one. The first half has a very slow and awkward build, but turns into something so much more intense in the second half. That is not to say that the first half is lacking, but that second half really convinced me that there was something special to it. To those looking for a pleasant and idyllic view of the world, this is definitely not it, but for those who are looking for something entirely unique, Dancer in the Dark is a must see. The ending left me feeling haunted for weeks on end, and it’s something that pops up in my mind more than I would like. If that doesn’t sell you, then I don’t know what will. Check it out.
Side note: Add this to the small list of films that actually made me cry. That scene will never leave.
When I started this blog more than two years ago, one of main intentions was to place a cerebral lens on the way I view films and the beauty that comes from such a celebrated art-form, primarily for someone who is much more casually into it. I’m not even remotely close to being an actual film maker myself, and I’m certainly no “expertise critic”, but there’s nothing that has shaped my passion more than being able to convince others to seek out films that they would’ve never otherwise entertained the idea of watching. Which brings me to the point of this entirely new segment. Films can be so much more than an two-hour excuse to waste some time. Outside of the comfortable “safe” bets that is mainstream cinema, lies films that stand on the wayside, overlooked by the average cinema-goer. As time has gone on, I’ve found myself reviewing obscurer and obscurer movies that sift between the more recognized big budget blockbusters, with an occasional trip outside of our far-west map placement. It’s through this little article that I wanted to give these more unsuspecting readers a little insight into the foreign movies that have fiercely resonated with me and can act as starting points for those looking to be more adventurous. Trying to step away from the more well-known ones, here are some that I implore even the slightly curious to venture out for.
The Handmaiden That Grew Minari
There’s been a rampant increase in Korean media making its way to the west in the more recent years with the K-Pop explosion and the mass popularity of ‘Squid Game’. The seeds of the film fanaticism, specifically, were carefully planted by Park Chan-Wook’s masterful craftsmanship that spawned the infamous ‘Oldboy’, but really exploded with the best picture winner, ‘Parasite.’ I reviewed both of these films with a deep, running theme of complete admiration. There was one other Korean film I reviewed, however, that had flown under the radar for many people. The Handmaiden was another foray from the iconic Chan-Wook that delved into both the deconstruction of the oversexualization of women while also telling a poignant tale of lesbian romance. A never-ending treasure trove of shock revelations make up the backbone of a story about a Korean handmaiden who intends to swindle a Japanese heiress out of her fortune, only to find a new love.
Admittedly, this film can be rather intense for a casual viewer. Park Chan-Wook has always managed to balance surprised entertainment with deep, introspect, but it’s this latter element that can throw many off. Sexual perversion is a constant theme throughout the film, but it also finds time to show the beautiful eroticism of such a mainstay cinematic taboo. I have sparsely visited the variable work of Chan-Wook, and I have grown to understand his style. If you found yourself enamored by the genius that is Oldboy, you should feel right at home here. With the way the general consensus towards the LGBT+ community has turned, this film fits perfectly within that social stigma. Never is there a moment where I wasn’t fascinated by what the film presents; it’s a near-perfect, if slightly risky, venture into Korean cinema.
Describing this film as “foreign” leaves me in a bit of logistical bind. Technically, Minari is not Korean, as all of it was filmed in America, but considering how heavily bathed in Korean culture and how important it seems to be to the director, Lee Isaac Chung, I am willing to at least consider it THE perfect gateway film into Korean cinema. Focusing on a Korean family that has migrated to Arkansas to start a farming business, we watch as the father of the family struggles to keep a sustainable career while the mother finds herself losing faith in him, all the while, their son is suffering from a physical illness that may be shortening his life. It’s a tale of strife and places a magnifying glass on the struggles that immigrant families will often go through when coming to ‘the land of opportunity.’
Not exactly a pleasant, happy-go-lucky story of a prosperous family, I found myself comparing it to Ken Loach’s ‘Sorry We Missed You.’ Possibly the most accessible way to introduce yourself to more alternative cinema is to find a film that has a constant running theme of hope buried beneath sadness. We humans are strangely attracted to tales of woe, and I feel that Minari captures a universal strife that anyone can relate to. Not a single moment goes by where you don’t sympathize with this family. There’s also a refreshing stance on how the family is treated by Americans in the movie. Many other films would portray them as racist bigots, with some minor exceptions, but likely due to the director’s Korean background, racism is never truly a theme. So much of the narrative is reliant on the internal strife of the family. In so many ways, this film speaks volumes to everyone. By the end of the film, I was left in tears with how hard this family struggles, it’s just that level of raw and emotional story-telling that never feels over-indulgent.
There are many other Korean movies that stand above the higher echelon of foreign cinema, but it’s these two that I feel anyone can jump into without that fear of overseas disconnect. I’ve been fascinated with Korean cinema since my college days, and it’s great to see this country’s output becoming so well-integrated into Western culture. ‘Train to Busan’ is another Korean movie that I could consider recommending if you’re looking for a wild and unique horror movie experience, and Parasite is an obvious highlight with how it demolishes social perception of the rich and wealthy.
If you’re feeling unsure on the idea that Minari is truly a Korean film, then perhaps you’d be interested in something deeply sown in its country of origin. ‘Burning’ is a recent watch for myself. I batted back and forth as to whether include this, due to its slow pacing and confusing plot, but there is something truly special that I think can appeal to anyone. Centered around a young and aspiring writer, our main character finds love in a former schoolmate. Just as the two are starting to build a relationship, the love interest in question ventures to Africa for a few weeks. Upon returning, she brings a friend that could potentially place a wedge in this love-strung pair up. Just when you think we’re going to be faced with a cliched love triangle, the secrets that this rival character has begin to unravel and it turns into a mystery thriller where everything we were led to believe starts to become questionable.
I mentioned the slow pacing, and I think that’s important to make note off due to how it very commonly deters the average viewer. With the film being two and a half hours, there’s definitely an intimidating aura. This is a film that rewards the viewer’s patience, however. If you have any love of mystery novels or narratives of the kind, this film is a perfect extension of that fascination that is buried in all of us; that of the unknown. It’s difficult to fully explain what makes this film feel so perfect without heavily spoiling major plot points, so I think it’s best that you simply seek this one out for yourself. It’s one that needs a lot of dedication and attention, but you won’t regret making it to the end.
A Revolution Revelation
For those of you that have, like myself, a great adoration for animation, I present a film that acts daringly in both its message and with how far it pushes the envelope that defines the genre. Persepolis is an adaptation of factual graphic novel written by Marjane Satrapi, who also co-directs the film. It recounts her life growing up in Iran during the revolution and follows her time as a university student in France. A fascinating into one person’s perspective of one the most infamous moments in Iranian history, told with an artistic brush stroke. Shattering the idea that animation is limited to children’s entertainment, Persepolis captures the feeling of freedom in such a restricted society.
Persepolis can be seen as a double-edged sword, as it captures both Iranian and French culture during the seventies and eighties. It is considered a French film, however, so it fits nicely in this country by country structure I have. I have no experience with the graphic novel, and only had the most basic knowledge of the real Iranian revolution, so I was able to judge this based on how well it paints a picture of such a troubled time. Having Satrapi directly involved creates a more personal atmosphere; it’s not just a formal piece of text recounting events. The art-style is unique, capturing the look of the original graphic novel with superb accuracy. Even if you’re not too partial towards animation, there is a fascinating story to be told. To continue my double-edged analogy, this works as both a gateway to foreign language films and more adult-oriented animation.
Somewhat piggy-backing off of my comments on The Handmaiden, A poignant, but very controversial, tale of lesbian romance comes from Abdellatif Kechiche’s ‘La vie d’Adele’ (‘Blue is the Warmest Color’.) A wholly relatable story for those trying to discover their sexuality, Blue is the Warmest Color is the tale of a teenager finding love with an older, blue-haired fascination. We watch their lives digress from an impassioned romance to a struggled effort to maintain the slightest bit of happiness. More of a degradation of a relationship than one that revels in the genre tropes, it’s more of a coming-of-age story than a overly sentimental romance flick.
I heavily debated even alluding to this film. The message towards finding oneself, sexuality or not, is strongly portrayed and for someone who is struggling with their sexuality, they may find some parallels. It’s hard for me to gauge that exact thing. Being a heterosexual man, I don’t fall into the target audience, but from the people I have known, there were many first-hand experiences that I could connect to. The film has also stirred up controversy for its overly perverse love scenes. Two very graphic sex scenes that left both actresses feeling objectified can make the experience feel dirty, but there are plenty of narrative connotations that amplify the scenes. These scenes are certainly drawn out, possibly to satisfy the director’s perverse vision, but this doesn’t distract from the emotional weight that comes from the central character’s constant questioning of herself; that childish ambition that is only realized when it’s too late.
My opinions on this movie shift around frantically, but I do believe that it’s very ambitious in its portrayal of gay love. It works for those looking into the cinema of the country heralded for its romantic identity, but also adds a dash of risk-taking for those who are looking to venture outside of their comfort zone.
For those who consider themselves historic war fanatics, ‘Indigenes’ (‘Days of Glory’) is a film from Rachid Bouchareb that highlights the efforts that North African soldier contributed to the French army during World War II. While the characters are fictional, the reality of the horrors and bigotry that came from this more obscure part of the war are very real. Focusing primarily on four North African soldiers as they blindly follow orders, we watch as they endure underhanded racism, all the while being fed the idea that they are dying for a noble cause. The main centerpiece of the film comes from a young soldier that slowly begins to buy into the manipulation.
This film can be easily brushed off as “just another war film.” After all, the genre has slowly faded into an exhausted and outdated one, but what sets Days of Glory apart from its contemporaries comes from its unique and sincere intent. When making stories out of the most infamous war in of the last century, we tend to focus more on the conflict between England and Germany. This film spotlights just how worldwide this war was, and just how manipulative one side could be in their efforts to win. These soldiers aren’t met with thunderous applause, their used as tools to further a goal. All four of the principal characters are given distinct identities, with Bouchareb brilliantly leading us on an uncomfortable and depressing path. This film fits perfectly within the realm of American and British war films, so it makes for a very comfortable start for those who are less adventurous.
There were many French films that I considered talking about, but they often felt either too well-known or too artsy. For those who are looking for something more iconic from the classic realm of cinema, ‘The 400 Blows’ is a ground-breaking coming-of-age story that inspired many future films. ‘Amelie’ is a slightly more modern off-beat romance film that more than enough people have seen. French cinema is stacked with iconography, so there’s a whole treasure trove of wonderful ventures you should seek out.
Fellini’s Fantastic Foray
Italian culture will never fail to pique my interests. Having grown up around people of Italian heritage, enduring my previous Catholic upbringing allowed me to mingle with those of said heritage and a single visit to the beautiful country in my teen years, has allowed me to look further and further into the input that they’ve contributed to cinema. Though I can’t say there have been too many that have garnered my attention the same way other countries have, there is an endlessly fascinating world of artistry that many overlook.
We have seen many foreign directors garner a newfound love overseas within the last two decades, but during the golden age of cinema, there were some notable outliers. Italian director, Federico Fellini became infamous for his distinct voice. Early last year, I found myself enthralled in four of his most noteworthy pieces of art. Films such as ‘8 1/2’ and ‘La Dolce Vita’ are already infamous in their own right, not needing much elaboration or convincing of, but it was the slightly surrealist, ‘I Vitteloni’ that I found myself fully immersed in. If you’re a fan of Wes Anderson’s body of work, then you may find yourself curious at what appears to be the early inspiration of the quirky director’s library.
I Vitteloni focuses on a group of adult friends as they sway through the predictability of life, seeing them go through romances and gaining careers, all the while, acting as if they were children. It is in this that you begin to notice that aforementioned “surrealism” that the film touts: the adults always behave like children, written as immature and unknowing youths. As someone that has been obsessed with Wes Anderson’s entire filmography for quite some time now, I felt right at home here. Going in blind was the better experience for myself; I slowly came to the realization as I was watching it, so perhaps it may lose some of its muster with prior knowledge, but it’s still something I implore anyone to look out for. Fellini was always ahead of his time and it’s because of this that I feel, despite it being a film from the 1950’s, it holds up incredibly well. Any outdated gender portrayals, for example, can be brushed off by the immature style of writing.
A more recent output from the world of Italian cinema is the Netflix original, The Hand of God. A somewhat autobiographical film by director, Paolo Sorrentino, it focuses on a young teen living in Naples as he begins to discover his place in the world. This coming-of-age tale sees him transitioning from a love of football to a desperate plea for an artistic voice within the medium of film, all due to a tragedy. The heart of the movie goes far beyond being a typical coming-of-age story, however, as it does explore the idea of discovering yourself purely through your own means. The way it explores all of the nuances that comes with growing into the adult world is far more raw and impassioned than any of its kind. The distinction that comes with each supporting character adds a great level of humanity, never feeling like cliched caricatures; it understands the balance of both the humor and tragedy that can surround a single person.
A type of narrative I have always admired, as sometimes overly-exhausted as it can feel, is that of the dreamer; someone who strives for so much more, overcoming each obstacle on their journey to success. It’s something that is universal, and The Hand of God perfectly encapsulates that struggle in ways that other films of its kind do not. That journey feels all the more organic when you take into account that Sorrentino projected his own experiences onto it. It’s also bathed in Italian atmosphere, presenting not a idyllic image of the country, but instead showing us the slums. The beauty comes from the human element. Mix this raw realism with a stark sense of humor, and you get a wonderful and melancholy tale of finding oneself.
Talking of Tokyo
It almost feels needless to convince you to seek out the wonderful cinema of Japan. Japanese culture has slowly etched its way into our Western ways or, at the very least, into the hearts of Japanese-obsessed millennials with access to a plethora of anime. I’ve been fascinated with all aspects of this country since I was a teenager, so it’s only natural that this would also apply to my love of films. I’ve seen a bucket-load of films from this culturally distinct land, but here are a handful that I feel that anyone can jump into.
Infamous and considered ahead of its time in the 1950’s, ‘Tokyo Story’ provided a contemporary insight into the ever-changing atmosphere of Japanese society, compartmentalized within Tokyo. Focusing on an elderly couple visiting the bustling city from the lavish countryside to spend time with their matured children, we witness the aforementioned children consistently disrespect their elders by fogging them off onto their kindly sister-in-law, left widowed. We see a stark contrast between the rural nature of the elderly couple with the reckless abandonment of the city-spun offspring in a noticeable allegory for connecting to ones roots, all the while, highlighting the shift of (then) modern culture.
Tokyo Story is quite a difficult one to recommend to just anyone. Its age can certainly dissuade the average film-goer, and the difference between Western and Eastern culture can certainly put most off, but what Tokyo Story does that feels so universal is its ability to single out city life as a whole. A narrative that shows the contrast between two different ways of living is something that we are more than familiar with and this film knows how to make that element a character in of its own. There’s a slow, methodical start to the film that I, initially, had trouble connecting with, but as time went on, you realize how important that build of time is. This film does not look down on the younger generation, but rather, frames it in a way that allows said generation to understand the idea of respecting and honoring their heritage, something that is so heavily buried in Japanese culture. If anything, this film works as a great introduction to a culture that feels so different.
Famed Japanese director, Akira Kurosawa is most known for influential samurai film, ‘Seven Samurai’, but to veer off into something a bit more understated, ‘Ikiru’ is one that I feel isn’t talked about enough in Western culture. Ikiru tells the story of a middle-aged man dying of cancer. Having lived a life full of cruelty and overall spite, he begins to regret the choices he has made. Telling no one of his illness, not even his daughter who has cut him off, he yearns for even the slightest bit of happiness in his final days. He does manage to make a connection with a younger woman, all the while knowing that he has little time to revel in this newfound lease on life.
Casual movie-goers often look to be entertained by films, and there isn’t anything wrong with that, but the beauty of cinema comes from the variety of emotions that can be invoked. Ikiru is not an entertaining movie, it bathes in sadness, never giving much of a moment to the opposite emotion, but that’s what makes it so memorable. I was able to draw parallels to the Darren Aronofsky film, ‘The Wrestler.’ The Wrestler has a very similar premise and progression. That idea that someone who has led a life of misery and spitefulness can turn it around from a life-shattering illness is an admirable concept. The idea that someone can change for the better. While The Wrestler ends on a particularly pessimistic note, Ikiru presents a much more encouraging note to end on. If you are looking for something far more challenging that feels timeless in its execution, then Ikiru is a heavy recommendation, even for how old the film is.
I debated whether it was worth talking about any particular anime. Anime has become vehemently part of Western culture due in heavy part by the iconic ‘Akira’, but as I debated this idea, I found myself gearing towards two noteworthy films that step out from the more obscure or the all-to-recognized works of Studio Ghibli.
A director that has gained his own contained popularity is that of Satoshi Kon. The late director’s most infamous work comes from the depressing surrealist film, ‘Perfect Blue’, which inspired Aronofski’s ‘Requiem for a Dream.’ But I would rather talk, instead, about a more grounded attempt, ‘Tokyo Godfathers.’ A film centered around three homeless scavengers: a drunk who has lost his family, a transvestite yearning for a child and a young girl who lies in guilt over the stabbing of her father. These three colorful characters discover an abandoned baby and set out to find the parents, all the while, discovering more about themselves.
Satoshi Kon’s subdued animation style shines through in its portrayal of the seedier side of the bustling city. The characters’ backstories are slowly unearthed as the film progresses, adding to this running mystery novel-esque theme that runs throughout. The revelations pile and pile on top of one another, but the heart and soul that structures this narrative comes from just how fascinating and three-dimensional each of the three principal characters are. I was consistently intoxicated by how far all three are pushed to their limits. There’s a subtle simplicity to the story that slowly eases its way into something more complicated. Though the concept is not particularly unique, there’s much more to the appeal than the animation. I also considered talking about the director’s surrealist subconscious-driven film, ‘Paprika’, which possibly inspired Christopher Nolan’s ‘Inception’, but I feel that Tokyo Godfathers is much more accessible. Even if you aren’t too experienced with the vast catalog of anime out there, Tokyo Godfathers has a completely universal appeal.
No animation studio has contributed more to Japanese media than Studio Ghibli. Often recognized as the Disney of Japan, their body of work is ridiculously iconic. Stuck with a conundrum as to whether to talk about a film from such an infamous studio, the idea of getting more than a chance to speak of the greatness that is ‘The Tale of the Princess Kaguya’ is more than an exciting prospect. Not the most well-known Ghibli film, it takes heavy inspiration from Asian mythology, telling the tale of a child born from a bamboo stalk. Adopted by an older couple, they come to the realization that she is aging rapidly. We then learn that she is a child of innate royalty, causing the impoverished family to rise to high-class society. The free-spirited princess detests the idea of living such a life and continues down a path of desperation for freedom.
Portrayed similar to that of the fairytales that have dominated Western culture for decade upon decade, Princess Kaguya is a beautiful, but understated, tale of sadness that sets itself apart from similar films of its kind. Though it shrouds itself in Japanese culture, there is a universal poetry that elevates the film into reaching past borders. Never is there a moment where we divert from the titular princess’ focus, so we feel every sense of emotion that she struggles to cope with. By the end, you’ll find yourself in a bittersweet feeling of relief. Its animation style is beautiful, far greater than anything else that the studio has made, with beautiful pastels that defines animation as the artform it is. I came to this film during my massive Studio Ghibli marathon from 2020 into 2021. It was the last film I ended on, not on purpose, but by sheer chance. I have “marathoned” film franchises, or studio libraries, in the past, but none will ever top starting with Spirited Away and ending with this very definition of near-perfection. I implore you all to seek this one out.
When writing this article, many films circled around my mind. Trying to gauge what films are perfect entry points was a difficult one. I really had to fight myself on two major films worth including, but the more I really thought about the,, it was clear that they were FAR too niche to include. But perhaps these would be two daring ideas for those who have found some sort of resonance with the very films I’ve already talked about. These movies come from Romanian drama, ‘4 Months, 3 Weeks & 2 Days’ and the very experimental Italian arthouse film, ‘Le Quattro Volte.’
I previously wrote an analysis on this soul-crushing film about two women’s desperation to perform an illegal abortion in eighties Romania. 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days presents a bleak view of how women are treated within society towards the idea of abortion. Relentless in how it attacks those who look down upon a woman’s choice, this film methodically takes you on a journey through the subconscious of those who struggle with such a hard choice. It’s entirely slow and grueling, but in the most enticing of ways. Every bit of discomfort feels purposeful and could convince even the most stubborn of anti-abortion supporters. It’s a very dark story that I wouldn’t recommend to just anyone, but if you are looking for a film that challenges social norm, then this is something will leave you with a profound sense of coldness that will forever linger in your head. (It still sits in my mind today.)
Looking for something incredibly risky, then I present to you: Le Quattro Volte. An adaptation of the concept of Pythagoras, we watch the lives of four different lifeforms purely through the actions seen on screen. Words are needless as watch an elderly farmer to a goat to a tree to the simple lives of townsfolk. The narrative is dense and the editing is minimal. There’s no dialogue and we are left to interpret everything presented. Like many films with artistic interpretation, this is going to be very hit or miss. Like looking at a painting or listening to some sort of avant-garde piece of music, it is up to you to make your own conclusion. I rarely ever find myself impressed by ‘arthouse’ films, but Le Quattro Volte was one that I couldn’t help but feel glued to. ONLY watch this one if you’re ready to endure and hour and a half of pure realism.
To have listed off all the foreign films I’ve watched over the years would’ve been foolish. I decided to narrow it down to what I felt were the most accessible films that anyone who was willing to read through an entire movie would find most resonance with. There’s a treasure-trove of amazing film experience outside of British and American industries and it’s great to see that people are really starting to appreciate this in the more recent years. I still feel as though there are copious amounts of films that even I have yet to experience, so perhaps in time, I will come back to do a follow-up to this article. Hopefully, I’ve given you a good starting point for some more adventurous cinema experiences, as well as a glimpse into how someone who has a lot of time on his hands perceives certain films. I intend to make more articles like this, so stay tuned for these little guide maps into risque cinema.
Side note: I did not include Roma because I struggled to enjoy it as much as everyone else. I apologize to all the Roma fans out there.