magic_marker

"Punch-Drunk Love" could best be described as "other." If "Annie Hall" is the "Finnigan's Wake" of cinematic romantic comedies, then "Punch-Drunk Love" is a glass of orange juice. Or a brick. It exists entirely outside the parameters by which we judge films of this nature, and as such it is difficult to review it. The whole film is an essay in conflict. As an experience, "Punch-Drunk Love" is alternately an assault on the senses and an transcendence of the mind. The groaning, hammering score is like the main character himself; grinding against its own melodic flow until it suddenly comes together in beautiful melodies. The wild, clashing colours that frequently invade the screen also, on occasion, suddenly resolve themselves into stunning, pastel creations so painterly they could be animated. Even the casting seems designed to engender awkwardness and uncertainty: pairing a foul-mouthed comedian known for juvenile humour and infantile rage (Adam Sandler) with one of the best and most versatile actresses alive (Emily Watson) was, if there truly is such a thing as chemistry, the recipe for a lab explosion. That the two work together is a testament to PT Anderson, who coaxes out of both his leads enough sympathy to each of the characters to allow their improbable attraction to proceed almost without question. The film works not as a romance (too distant) or as a comedy (too disturbing) but as an animate portrait of the soul of Sandler's character, Barry Egan. It is a graphic representation of the pain, humiliation and confusion with which he is flooded. In the film, Barry's soul takes the form of an abandoned harmonium; a burden he must lug from place to place, occasionally, tentitively plonking on it to see if he can make music, and only hearing the smallest, explosive whistle. Only when he takes it and drops it outside Watson's door does he begin to truly play it for all that it is worth.

"The Eye" is a very well-crafted and elegant chiller, with a number of interesting ideas. The lead character, played by the wonderful Lee Sin-Je, is very sympathetic and carries this film with little or no help from other co-stars. It is a fine example of the new generation of horror films that combine economically used "jump-out-of-your-seat" shocks with atmosphere and mood, begun by "The Sixth Sense" and continued by such modern classics as "The Devil's Backbone" and "The Others." Like those films, it uses horror not as the driving force of the story, but as a backdrop to other, more earthly dramas; "The Sixth Sense" was as much about a troubled kid in a single-parent family as it was about ghosts, "The Devil's Backbone" was as much a domestic tragedy as a horror story. In this case, the story is of a blind girl suddenly given sight, and finding that she is unable to cope with her ability. The fact that she also sees ghosts is almost incidental; you feel just as devistated when she realises she can no longer play with her orchestra, because she is no longer blind. Also, like "The Devil's Backbone", this film shows that computer graphics are levelling the playing field internationally in visual effects, and that Hollywood-standard production values are now within the reach of any international fimmaker. That would mean nothing if the directors (The brilliantly named Danny and Oxide Pang) did not use them well, but they do. They unleash some incredible, and incredibly realistic, visuals in this film, and clearly know how to scare an audience with them.

"The Eye"'s principal flaw, I'm afraid, is that it is simply too similar to other films; the "blind girl given sight who sees visions" plot has been done before (in Michael Apted's "Blink"), the "seeing dead people" shtick was used up by "The Sixth Sense", and the end bares a striking (though probably unintentional) similarity to "The Mothman Prophecies". That said, this film is good enough to stand on its own without those narrative riffs, and is well-worth your time. 8/10