Adolescence is a trial no matter what gender one is. The confliction can be so crippling that it damages and ultimately defines one as an adult. There have been many films, some good, about experiencing teenage angst and the need to break free or remain grounded. Either way can produce regret later in life. This film XXY has treaded new ground by presenting a teenager whose entire identity, both internally and anatomically, is unusual to a majority of people. Funnily enough, uniqueness of this case makes the experience all the more universal. The teenager is named Alex and is fifteen years old. Alex has a choice this summer that boggles one’s mind toward fantasy. The choice is whether Alex should resume the rest of life as male or female.

Alex is a hermaphrodite. Alex looks like a teenage girl but possesses the make-up of a boy that he/she has deluded with pills of estrogen. Alex is cared for by her parents Kraken (brilliantly by Ricardo Darín) and Suli (Valeria Bertuccelli) who live, for their child’s sake, in a wooden turquoise cabin near the seaside in Uruguay after having moved from Argentina. Her father works as an oceanographer who possesses a protectiveness, even for the wounded sea turtles he studies. The key for observing this challenging and brave film is by possessing the empathy that Kraken has. He is quiet, smart, unobtrusive, and lashes out only when someone endangers his child. Rarely has a father been portrayed on film with such loveliness.

There is an astonishing sequence late at night where Kraken seeks out a frank older man who presents pictures of himself as a child — pictures of girl! Kraken listens calmly and curiously to the difficult experiences of this struggling hermaphrodite. He is so involved with understanding his “daughter” that he is simply removed from prejudice: “Making her afraid of her body is the worst thing you can do to a child”. This character was so easy for me to gravitate towards.

Inés Efron portrays Alex with much bravado and vulnerability. She instinctively performs her character’s struggle with tendencies ruled by her intersex. Alex’s struggle is made more difficult by the arrival of Ramiro (Germán Palacios), his wife Erica (Carolina Pelleritti), and their teenage son Álvaro (Martín Piroyansky). Ramiro is a surgeon who has been invited over, whether Kraken ad Suli decide to inform him at all, to perform corrective sex surgery in secret. Álvaro and Alex form a fragile friendship as their lazy days on beach pass creepily by. The dialogue between the two teenagers is startlingly frank:

Alex: “I’ve never fucked anyone. Want to now?”

Álvaro: “With who?”

Alex: “With me.”

Álvaro: “You’re too young.”

Alex: “I’m only fifteen.”

Eventually there is a confrontation midway into the film where Álvaro and Alex are caught up in one another’s sexual crisis. They are compelled by their need to connect with each other as well as their own confused and highly guarded urges. For anyone who felt uneasy watching the emotionally mature Brokeback Mountain (2006), will probably suffer a Scanners moment when they witness how the tables turn in an act of mounting. The tone of the picture achieves the right balance of sentimentality and a hardened sense of reality. The characters are well rounded and respond realistically to their circumstances. They remain true to their human nature. Rawness is ubiquitous. The nakedness of the performers both emotionally and viscerally approaches the tact of Cathrine Breillat’s brilliant Fat Girl (2001).

Natasha Braier’s desaturated cinematography and its conscious color palette throughout the film is very effective. The picture ranges from black shadows and rich sepia hues at night to the daylight’s gray roads, near white sand, harsh blue sky with occasional splashes of green foliage. The main titles takes place underwater where strange alien-like creatures pulsate and blow bubbles amongst the web-like reefs. The intimidating tone of the film is more creepy than most of the generic suspense thrillers that came out this year. The music by Andrés Goldstein and Daniel Tarrab compliments by being subtly somber.

This film, winner of the Critics Week Grand Prize at Cannes 2007, marks the directorial debut of Lucía Puenzo, daughter of Luis Puenzo (Oscar nominee The Official History, 1986). She adapted her screenplay from the short story Cinismo by Sergio Bizzio. After much writing for TV and feature films, Puenzo arrives fully formed as a talented and visceral storyteller. How the characters deal with the aftermaths and revelations of their actions are executed without negligence while maintaining some ambiguity that they are reasonably unable to capture at that age. Somehow, Puenzo’s film bares resemblance to Kimberly Peirce’s searing Boys Don’t Cry (1999) and achieving a niche of its own. This is one of the best movies of the year.

This sumptuously lurid play, by Peter Greenaway, on depravity, sexual oblivion, and revenge remains the most accessible and compelling of his filmography. It is also one of the few films I hold closest to my heart. The Cook, The Thief, His Wife, And Her Lover is simultaneously simple and deceptive with the film’s title. The main characters could stand for an angry allegory about greedy Thatcher-inspired bullies exploiting the working class citizens of Britain. Then again, perhaps this tale of excess, rape, and cannibalism is a heightened account about deeply wounded souls.

Le Hollandaise is a grotesquely bourgeois restaurant where the thief Albert Spica (Michael Gambon - Gosford Park, 2001), his wife Georgina (the indispensable Helen Mirren - Gosford Park and Last Orders, 2001), and his goons (Tim Roth and Ciarán Hinds) dine every night. We are introduced to Albert as he force-feeds a lowly member of the kitchen staff owing money his excrement, and elaborating on its value: “I eat the very best and that’s expensive!”

The cook, Richard Borst (Richard Bohringer - Rembrant, 1999) stands up to the thief’s boorish threats concerning his offered “protection” with a collected reserve that masks deep rage - “If you button your expensive jacket, Mister Spica, you feel less…empty inside, Mister Spica.” Seated in the center of the operatic dining room, Albert’s hostility extends toward everyone around him, including the patrons. Georgina, who Albert crudely dubs, “Georgie”, often berated and beaten by her husband, is quietly defiant. She makes eye contact with Michael, a quiet intellectual (Alan Howard - The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, 2003) as he eats and reads in the corner. Their infatuation leads to many excuses for a rendezvous in the opulent lavatory, where she and tender, love-handled Michael make desperate, explicit love as a means of escape.

Their sexual escapades take them behind closed doors in the kitchen, a secret quietly kept by the restaurant’s workers. Albert, obvious to being a cuckold, continues displaying his virtuoso nastiness with loud, arrogant (albeit darkly hilarious) commentary punctuated by violence: “I think Ethiopians like starving!” “Human milk should be considered a delicacy.” Everyone around him is reduced to frightened submission. One night, he invites Michael to his table where he picks on his reading habits, “Does this stuff make money?” After having badly-bruised Georgina dictate how wonderful her life is (“Tell Michael you live in a big house and you spend a thousand pounds a week on clothes!”), she retaliates with news about her gynecology appointments (“Being infertile makes me a safe bet for a good screw.”) Albert drags her across the parking lot for that one.

The thief eventually discovers his wife’s deception is consumed by jealous rage. Searching for them, he invades the ladies’ lavatory and trashes the kitchen while screaming under satanic lighting, “I’ll kill him and then I’ll eat him!” Georgina, having been pushed beyond all measure, is transformed from tragic victim to arresting seducer, to tortured lunatic, and finally to avenging mastermind. There’s much to savor when the cook offers to prepare Georgina’s proposed meal for her husband. Albert’s comeuppance is satisfying and extreme, though perhaps not excruciating enough.

Every actor performs excellently with their given roles. In particular, Michael Gambon’s portrayal of the thief remains one of the most criminally overlooked performances of a great villain. He could stand alongside the likes of Hannibal Lector; after all, they have some things in common. Helen Mirren and Alan Howard exhibit astonishing bravery and tact in playing nude and suggesting real human depth with roles that might not initially suggest.

Sacha Vierny’s fantastical and painterly cinematography captures a surreal and heighten reality. The nightmarish sets include a large dining space saturated with blood red walls, furnishings and dominating curtains along with the towering, sickly-green industrial kitchen. The panoramic widescreen capitalizes on the vast stage-like compositions, panning from the parking lot, the kitchen, and the dining room in one deceptively continuous take. The color of the characters’ clothing changes to match the given settings. Costume designer Jean-Paul Gaultier fuses seventeenth century sensibilities along with warped contemporary ones. The unreality of the film’s look utilizes the melodramatic and farcical elements of the story. There are visual quotations of the painting “The Banquet of the Officers of the St. George Militia of Haarlem” (1616) by Frans Hals as though the oily aristocracy are staring at their more uncouth counterparts centuries later.

Michael Nyman’s thunderous music suggests decadence and savagery. Hellish chorus howls, shrieking violins, and saxophones dominate the exceptional soundtrack. Rarely have saxophones sounded like they have slobbery, wet tongues inside.

When released in 1990, the film was given the NC-17 rating that rallied a demand for a working adults-only rating reserved for more serious and sophisticated films. Helen Mirren spoke up against the ludicrousness of the MPAA ratings system. After eighteen years, it is still an uphill battle against maddeningly vague, studio-influenced hypocrites who keep films like this from the mainstream cinema. Peter Greenaway, who began his career as a serious painter and a student of anatomy, is uninhibited about regarding the naked human form of both sexes before the camera. Written with exacting intelligence and perversion, Greenaway’s portrayal of violence and sexuality is a conscious indictment of it. The extremity of the film is not without merit or thought, as it is not for the faint of heart. Order wisely from the menu, this is uncompromised satire of the highest order.

Nearly a month ago, the trailer for the next highly anticipated film David Fincher film The Curious Case of Benjamin Button debuted before the fourth Indiana Jones movie on May 23rd. The Spanish version of the trailer was briefly available online that day. Now Fincher and Paramount Pictures have officially launched the trailer today in High Definition over at Apple.

This is as good as it gets.

My first viewing of the trailer on the big screen was a transcendent experience. Maybe greater than the one for The Dark Knight coming July 18th. Hell, it’s on par with There Will Be Blood.

The angelic and somber score comes from Saint-Saens’ Carnival of the Animals - Aquarium sans the choir that has been used in Terrance Malick’s Days of Heaven (1978) and a few Ren and Stimpy cartoons. Except for the odd line of dialogue that bookends the trailer, the music is dominant like a silent picture. It reminds me of the eerie, dialogue-free Dark City Trailer.

Best of all, it doesn’t overstay its welcome clocking in at one minute and forty-six seconds. Too many trailers go to the trouble of cramming in every cool visual along with the final confrontation into two minutes and forty seconds. Over-eagerness does not suit a seducer.

The F. Scott Fitzgerald short story makes for a compelling hour’s read. It draws parallels to Daniel Keyes’ Flowers For Algernon. A baby is born wrinkled, decrepit and frighteningly able to talk candidly about the indignity of being given a milk bottle. As the time passes, Benjamin Button (nearly named Methuselah, referring to the son of Noah who reached the age of 969 years old) must contend with living a unique life of regressing to youth both psychically and mentally. He is always withheld from the conventional human experience, but strives for it anyways.

Within Fincher’s command after Zodiac (2007), his most successful feature, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button could become an instant classic. I hope.

The film stars Brad Pitt (12 Monkeys, 1995), Cate Blanchett (The Talented Mr. Ripley, 1999), Tilda Swinton (Young Adam, 2003), Julia Ormond (The Baby of Macon, 1993), Elias Koteas (The Thin Red Line, 1998), Jason Flemyng (From Hell, 2001), and Taraji P. Henson (Hustle and Flow, 2005)

Christmas looks promising this year.

The Criterion Collection, the best in restoring and packaging obscure films, has postponed the release of the Paul Schrader masterpiece Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters (#432 - 1985). It was originally slated for June 17th, but will now be released on July 1st. The reason for this could be so the Director-approved 2-disc special edition can coincide with another Criterion release Patriotism (#433 - 1966), a 29-minute film directed by and starring Yukio Mishima.

Mishima is one of my favorite films of all time right behind Terrance Malick’s Days of Heaven (1978). It is one of the most strangest and artistically appropriate biopics about a deeply-complex and passionate man. Yukio Mishima (Ken Ogata - The Pillow Book, 1996), a quiet novelist and arguably insane radical who wrote dozens of stories about struggle, beauty, sexuality, love, suicide, and the importance of an artistic statement. He later formed a personal army in pursuit of more tradition livelihood in Tokyo.

Three of his most renowned stories The Temple of the Golden Pavilion (1956), Kyoko’s House (1959) and Runaway Horses (1968) were shot in rich, gorgeous color on eye-popping theatrical sets by Eiko Ishioka that compliment the black-and-white scenes chronicling the writer’s past. They are the best filmed expressions of the writing process matched by Spike Jonze’s Adaptation (2002). These passages of past and fiction all lead up to Mishima’s last day, shot like a documentary in color, when he committed a rehearsed act of seppuku - a form of ritualistic samurai suicide - in the headquarters of Japan Self-Defense Forces.

You can watch the trailer here.

At the 1985 Cannes Film Festival, the film’s cinematographer John Bailey (The Anniversary Party, 2001), composer Philip Glass (A Brief History of Time, 1991), and costume/set designer Eiko Ishioka (The Fall, 2008) won the well deserved Best Artistic Contribution. Director Paul Schrader, the writer of Taxi Driver (1976) and director of Affliction (1998) has recognized Mishima as his best work. Francis Ford Coppola and George Lucas co-produced it knowing that the financial venture wold not be profitable because mainstream audience would not embrace it despite critical acclaim. Luckily for those who appreciate challenging and expertly-made films, Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters can be experienced because it exists.

Warner Bros Home Video released a DVD of Mishima on August 2001 that included a director’s audio commentary. It is currently out of print.

The Criterion release will sport a new, restored high-definition digital transfer of the director’s cut which was supervised and approved by director Paul Schrader and cinematographer John Bailey. The changes of the director’s cut include a deleted scene featuring Chishu Ryu, a favored actor of Yasujiro Ozu (Floating Weeds, 1959). For Ozu fanatics, you can read a Sight and Sound article by Ryu on the director here. Another change to film is a digital replacement of a skyline in the Runaway Horses segment because Schrader wanted it look artificially in sync with the rest of the story visually. Optional English and Japanese voice-over narrations will also be provided; the former by Roy Scheider (“We’re goin’ to need a bigger boat.”), the latter by Ken Ogata.

New special features include: an audio commentary featuring Schrader and producer Alan Poul - the one featured in the original Warner release will not be included.

There will be new video interviews with Bailey, producers Tom Luddy and Mata Yamamoto, composer Philip Glass, and production designer Eiko Ishioka. Mishima biographer John Nathan and friend Donald Richie will also have video interviews. A new audio interview with co-screenwriter Chieko Schrader, the Japanese wife of Leonard Schrader who also wrote for Mishima. Chieko wrote the Japanese dialogue. Another video interview excerpt will feature Mishima talking about writing.

Also included is The Strange Case of Yukio Mishima, a 55-minute BBC documentary about the author, the film’s theatrical trailer, and a booklet featuring a new essay by critic Kevin Jackson, a piece on the film’s censorship in Japan, and photographs of Ishioka’s sets.

Available separately on the same date is Yukio Mishima’s Patriotism, which foreshadowed his death playing an officer who commits seppuku. The original film was thought to be destroyed by Japanese authorities shortly after Mishima’s death, seen as a plight upon the nation. Fortunately, the original negative was saved and has resurfaced 35 years later.

The DVD will be restored in a high-definition digital transfer of both the Japanese and English versions, with optional Japanese or English subtitles. Special features include a 45-minute audio recording of Yukio Mishima speaking to the Foreign Correspondents’ Association of Japan; a 45-minute making-of documentary, featuring crew from the film’s production; interview excerpts featuring Mishima discussing war and death; new and improved English subtitle translation, and a new essay by renowned critic and historian Tony Rayns, Mishima’s original short story, and Mishima’s extensive notes on the film’s production.

I’m picking them both up July 1st. Any Mishima fans doing the same?

Enjoy the trailer here.

Warner Independent Pictures is releasing Towelhead, the theatrical debut of filmmaker Alan Ball, the creator of Six Feet Under and Academy Award Winning writer of American Beauty. The film premiered in the Toronto Film Festival with the title Nothing Is Private. It has been named back in the US to Towelhead, the same title of the Alicia Erian novel that Ball has based his written adaptation on.

Set during the first Gulf War, a teenage Arab-American girl named Jasira whose new found and confused sexual awareness results in drastic measures by her mother (Maria Bello - The Cooler, 2003). She is sent away from New York to a small town in Texas to live with her strict, disciplinary Lebanese father, Rifat (Peter Macdissi - Three Kings, 1999). While the Middle Eastern war spreads prejudice at home, they struggle to be recognized as a respected Americans. Jasira is played by newcomer Summer Bishil who is running as fast as she can from children’s television programming to dramatic material more mature and respectable, much like Anne Hathaway did with Havoc (2005).

Director Ball is still testing the water with another plot about the adult male leaching after the underage girl. A bigoted Army revisionist played by Aaron Eckhart (Your Friends and Neighbors, 1998) is torn between his racism and his attraction for the minor. Eckhart, who exudes sliminess as well as James Spader (Secretary, 2002), says to girl in private: “You know what you do. You know what you do to men.” Ewww…

Watching the Towelhead trailer, the tampon sequence brings to mind a scene from Tamara Jenkin’s Slums of Beverley Hills (1998) where a well-meaning father (Alan Arkin – Little Miss Sunshine, 2006) takes his mortified daughter (Natasha Lyonne – But I’m A Cheerleader, 1999) out bra shopping. I’m also reminded of the menstrual-minded Canadian werewolf-horror film Ginger Snaps (2000).

Towelhead also stars Toni Collette (Muriel’s Wedding, 1994 and Japanese Story, 2003) and Matt Letscher (Identity, 2003) as welcoming, sarcastic Liberal neighbors. Here’s hoping this American indie is sharp, poignant and uncompromising as Alan Ball’s previous efforts. The release date is August 28th.