A New Entry To The 'Cinematical Wonders' List

And A Glorious One At That

I am happy to announce that after my second viewing of 2001: A Space Odyssey that took place four years after the first one, I had no more doubts in my mind that Kubrick's film is the best science fiction movie ever to hit the silver screen, bar none.

Therefore, it settles down to an impressive 29th place in my Top 50 list.

Admittedly, it's not Kubrick's best work, not even in the top 5 in my opinion; but it's one of those perfect ones where his vision is unmatched even today. His stylistic excellence, his attention to detail; the film's expressive power, self-confidence and sheer breadth of its content places this one above all the other science fiction movies I have ever seen, and marks one of those times when I tend to agree with the ossified opinions of the old and narrow minded film critics. I will try to provide a more detailed analysis and in-depth look at this masterpiece in my 'Exploring Kubrick' article series, which I am planning to launch here in a couple of weeks.

This update leaves Jurassic Park out, as well as all the excuses that Cihan uses when politely denying the credibility of my list, asserting that he can find even a film that deserves no more than 1/10 in there (Although he might consider this one a 1/10 in which case it will be really impossible to do something about it). Rest in peace, dinosaurs and exotic landscapes of Isla Numar/Costa Rica; for you will always have a place in our hearts and will not be forgotten. Condolences to Spielberg, who at least continues to have two more of his films on the list (I'm guessing he'll be upset with this news nonetheless).

There has been significant changes in my 'Most Anticipated 10' list as well, as I was able to see some of those films recently. More reviews and an updated list is on the way. Stay tuned.

The Incredible Hulk (2008)

A Failed Attempt vs. No Attempt

I must say I'm not really a fan of Ang Lee's Hulk, which was released 5 years before the studios decided to allow a remake (or a sequel?) in order to erase from memory all the traces of the original. Lee's film was a double disappointment for me because a) it didn't work well as a Hulk adaptation and b) it marked the major failure of a talented director, whom I first got to like with Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (a name that was frequently spelled in Hulk's marketing campaign). Had I known a film like The Incredible Hulk was on the way, I would have been much nicer to Asian auteur's adaptation.

All this vaguely resembles a fairy tale of some sort...

Centuries ago, in an empire far far away, Dark Lord Ang Lee was planning to use, for his evil purposes, the treasure of the common people: a shiny green piece of artifact, a statuette commonly known by the townsfolk as Hulk. Previously, the gem belonged to the venerable lords at Castle Marvel, and inspired sympathy as well as admiration among the common villagers. Lord Lee deceived all these people with his promises for a bigger and more glorious statuette; and managed to get his long, pointy fingers all over it. Some called his plan a character study, some a different sort of family drama, while others were convinced that it was pure evil. Marvelian lords on the other hand, were slaves to their passion for millions of gold coins that a bigger and better statue would bring, so they gleefully accepted. No one was in any serious doubt, since only a year ago, Spider Man had proved to be extremely profitable. This time though, the result was a scandal. When it was erected in the town square and was brought into the attention of the suspicious townsfolk, no one was satisfied to see unmistakable dark spots on their beloved malachite statuette. So began the dark years, where no one wanted to work for the lords of Marvel anymore, nor pay taxes, as they felt deceived and robbed. Years of famine, plague and hatret was to follow.


Enter the honorable French knight Leterrier, who swears before the high council of hundred-million-dollar box offices to win back the villagers and clear the Marvel's name of this blasphemy. The plan is quite straightforward and formulated: Replacing Lee's dark magic with something simpler, shinier and more appealing to the eye (Hence, 'The Incredible Hulk' instead of a simple 'Hulk'). He states that he has to work with the best people in this mission; and that Jason Statham will not be sufficient this time. Therefore, Honorable Cavaliers Edward Norton and Tim Roth; Her Grace Lady Tyler and High Chevalier William Hurt will be joining in on his mission to defeat Lord Lee (while he's busy working on his next evil plan) and save the day.

Judging by the box office numbers and the overall praise The Incredible Hulk appears to be receiving, Leterrier seems to have reached his goal. Look at all those townsfolk cheering! It might be the best time for a promotion (or, in other words, more sequels).


Among the many reviews I have read on the internet and the opinions of many of my friends, I got the impression that an overwhelming majority seems to prefer The Incredible Hulk over its predecessor. Remembering how much I was disappointed with Hulk, I am inclined to sympathize. Letterier attends to the wounds of Hulk-lovers with the deceptive care of Grima Wormtongue; and I can understand anyone finding comfort in his soothing action sequences and gentle CGI treatments. I, for one, think that Ang Lee's film was a failed attempt to delve into depths of superficial-looking Hulk story and come up with an original material. But at least it was an attempt, unlike the recent film which merely copy-pastes several certified formulas that tend to work in most action films, into an inelaborate mess (or maybe a technical collage). In fact, I think I might have cracked the secret of The Incredible Hulk and, consequently, of making a successful blockbuster adapted from a comic book. First, you should have the essential components:

* A couple of James Bond style chase scenes to increase adrenaline
* King Kong style city-destroyed-by-monster sequences for a feeling of grandeur
* A Godzilla style ultimate fight for an appropriate climatic finale (which, by the way, closely resembles any fight between Popeye and Bluto, where Liv Tyler is not Olive Oyl but rather the spinach that gives Hulk the strength he requires to defeat his enemies)
* Jaws style increased suspense and tension - A 'monster' that isn't fully revealed until halfway through the film
* A cheesy 'barriers between lovers' concept or a few 'they can't even make love, how sad' sequences for emotional impact
* Some totally unnecessary 'Oh my god! Is Bruce Banner dead now?' suspense scenes for increased excitement.


Pour all these ingredients into a pot and start cooking. The dosages are not really important, because it's allright even if everything is totally arbitrary. The only thing you have to manage is to somehow be able to get mediocre performances from every single actor/actress that is involved in the production, whose skills far outreach what you get to watch in this film. Throw in a couple of logical errors and violations of common sense to spice things up and you are almost done. Cook over small fire until the monster turns green. Serve cold with a Tony Stark cameo.

What's so great about this recipe is the fact that it doesn't require any genuine time or effort on your side. You can cook 'great' meals for everyone in just a couple of minutes. You don't need to have any intellectual complexity or any finesse in making action films; because you always have the same excuse: "This is the way to make a blockbuster comic book adaptation - you have to aim for fun and nothing else." I disagree. There is an art even to making a mindless action flick, of which Raiders of the Lost Ark is an ultimate example. Leterrier runs screaming away from even the idea of sophistication, and strips Hulk from every interesting detail regarding the characters; leaving nothing but a dull hide-chase-fight-romance-hide-chase-fight-romance vicious circle with a couple of fancy scientific details thrown in between. Zack Snyder did the same thing with 300, but thanks to Frank Miller's vision and talents, his film was stylized enough that its simplicity did not stand out. Whatever The Crow lost because of its somewhat ordinary story, it made up with his extremely dense Gothic atmosphere. A History of Violence was enjoying great performances from highly-talented actors such as Viggo Mortensen, Ed Harris, Maria Bello and, once again, William Hurt. For The Incredible Hulk, well... you don't really have anything to hold onto.


Ang Lee's extremely dark interpretation which centers more on the human aspects rather than the monster and the action sequences might not be the best thing to do with Hulk; but Letterier's version makes everything worse. A certain visual style and character should be a central element when adapting from a medium which is solely based on visual quality. If Lee was able to achieve nothing, he at least made a film which was marked with stylized transitions between scenes and meaningful as well as restrained use of CGI. He was talking with his own voice and executing his own vision when he was transferring the story of a green giant into a Freudian family drama. To me, a film's loyalty to the original material it was adapted from is irrelevant when discussing how successful it is - it should be in the judgement of the director what to add and what to leave out based on his/her understanding of cinema as well as the weaknesses & strengths of the base material. No work is holy and therefore every work is open to question - deviations and alterations do not automatically create flaws. And the dynamics between Bruce Banner and his father, both as humans and as superhuman rivals, are really worth a peek. True, Hulk's tone and pacing were not set properly, which is another central element in comic book adaptations, but at least it had the sparkles that failed to turn into flames whereas The Incredible Hulk has nothing. Whoever compaining about the Hulk-Dogs in the first film should have a better look at the 'Blonsky Creature' and try to decide which one looks more ridiculous.


Fletch of the Blog Cabins asks: "Kingdom of the Crystal Skull - will you take me back?". In response to that, I will say this: "I'm sorry Ang Lee, will you take me back?"

3/10

P.S: My favorite review of The Incredible Hulk so far was the review in The Guardian by Peter Bradshaw. Have a look, and you'll see what I mean. And for those who are curious what we as the minority are able to find so precious in the previous Hulk, here is 'Wild, Weird and Wonderful: Appreciating Ang Lee's Hulk' by Rob Humanick of The Projection Booth.

Against The Current

Because Diversity Is A Gift, Often Overlooked


If there is one thing that scares me more than being the person who disagrees with every single consensus on film, it's being the one who always agrees with them.

This was the thought on my mind when I was reading Rob Humanick's great essay on Bad Journalism, which loathes the public lynching of certain movies for seemingly no apparent reason - save for one which is called 'because everybody else seems to hate it'; yet most of the time this is something more subliminal than spoken out. The major torchbearers to this movement are paid critics like Stephanie Zacharek herself, who, despite being great at what they do, frequently disappoint me with their aims to intimidate the tastes of their opposers using elaborate sentences and sophisticated allusions as their weapons (e.g. "This isn't a picture filled with wonder and a sense of fun; it's so jaded and crass that I almost wonder if it's a highly unscientific experiment designed to gauge how little audiences will settle for these days" for Speed Racer). A close second are some of my fellow bloggers like Matt, who I came across in the comments section of 'Because I Saw Film' and had a small, unpleasantish discussion. Matt has a cool blog that I enjoy reading frequently; but when he was upset with my profound dislike for the film Young Frankenstein, he chose to question my credibility using the fact that I place No Country for Old Men instead of Fargo or The Departed instead of Goodfellas in my Top 50 list (Not that I'm holding grudges, I just thought he makes a good example). When these kinds of intimidations exist, they tend to affect our opinions, either directly or subconsciously, making it harder for us to transcend the borderlines of consensus thought. To me though, it seems like a complete waste of time to defend the opinions of the majority this fiercely; and I can't understand how people find in themselves enough energy and enthusiasm to do so. The way I see it, these opinions are perfectly capable of protecting themselves (since they run no risk of being ignored) so it's totally pointless to try and suppress a handful of odd voices in the crowd. Their influence will be less significant in any case.

It's no lie that once a movie is labeled 'uncool to like' (Titanic, Speed Racer and Troy are a few examples), there is little that marketing campaigns, advertisements, and a handful of sincerely positive opinions out there can do. Yet the other end of the spectrum tends to annoy me more. Recently, I have been reading (and having fruitful discussions in) a blog named Screaming Blue Reviews, the contributors of which call it "an online journal of dissent". The frequent overrating of certain films today is what's troubling them, and thinking of Transformers, Crash and pretty much everything that Clint Eastwood has directed recently as a couple of examples, I tend to sympathize (although they have a much more radical example than these, which is called There Will Be Blood. Interesting huh?). In their own words: "We feel there is a growing tendency to overvalue many films according to pedigree, or (worse) by the force of their marketing. If a film insists upon its greatness, many critics often fall in lockstep to validate that claim. We feel this should not be so, and have started this blog to offer a counterpoint to the noise of those bandwagons." Another aspect to this phenomenon is loving a film for all the wrong reasons; of course everybody is free to like whatever they want in a movie they watch but when this superficial attitude slips into one's professional (or semi-professional for that matter) reviews where it is exposed to many readers, it ceases to be acceptable. Most recent example that I can name on the top of my head is No Country For Old Men, for which you can find countless of reviews that praise its intensity and solidity as a thriller/slasher movie. This is indeed enough reason to like it, but when this opinion multiplies like fleas on a sick dog and when the reasons behind the film's brilliance is reduced to this, counter arguments will focus less on the actual noteworthy aspects. The whole discussion will be rendered less fertile and more futile.

I would respectfully want to oppose all these. This does not necessarily mean that I don't do the same mistakes ever, but at least I am conscious of these pitfalls and I try to avoid them whenever I can. The aim of this post was to announce another label called 'Against the Current' which will be stamped on the reviews/articles in The Long Take whenever I feel like I'm opposing consensus thought with what I write. All this makes me sound like a guy, trying too hard to prove his worth by bragging about how different he is, I am sure; but trust me, this is not the case. I'm comfortable with the fact that more often than not, I tend to agree - All the more reason to emphasize and protect my opinions when I don't. To be honest, I find it quite easy and cheap to be constantly attacking popular culture icons and critically-acclaimed, audience-favorite movies out there. When it's forced, diverse opinions are more annoying than anything but there is a reason to why we read some critics and follow some blogs on a regular basis, and it's not about confirming our own opinions or those of the majority, but rather challenging them with unique perspectives presented by these people.

Let me risk sounding a little naive in order to make a small but important request: Don't be a fascist when it comes to unconventional opinions. Most of the time, their benefits will far outweigh their capabilities to do harm.

Edit: Here is another insightful article about a related issue: 'Don't Insult Your Readers' by Matte Havoc. Enjoy.

Funny Games U.S. (2007)

The 'Funny Games' Experience Vol.1

Watching Haneke's remake of Funny Games before the original 1997 release is definitely another one of my weird viewing experiences (maybe I should post a list of those here someday)

First I saw the poster above. And then came the news about the cast, followed by my realization of how long it has been since I last saw a Haneke film; I didn't even watch Hidden (Cache) despite all the hype and praise it received and I practically saw none of his films in theaters. It was quite hard to suppress my interest after this trailer, but I still read a couple of reviews before finally deciding to engage in the 'Funny Games Experience'. I am calling it an 'experience' because everyone seems to have agreed on the fact that it's thesis statement rather than a story and an experiment rather than a film; both of which I will respectfully disagree in the upcoming few paragraphs. For me, it's an 'experience' because it's really something to see a skilled director like Haneke himself do a shot-by-shot remake of his own film merely after 10 years the original one was released.

Much of the speculation in the reviews I read (understandably) focused on why this movie was made rather than what it's about. Being someone who didn't have the chance to see the original one, I saw this as a chance to be the different voice in the crowd. I wanted to watch the remake first and focus more on the qualities of this film rather than context with which it was remade, which is obviously an issue that I cannot properly address before seeing both of the films. Therefore, the review of the original Funny Games (also the volume 2 of this article) will cover these contextual analyses and comparisons, which you will be able to see here quite soon. This one, I'll keep limited to the film itself and nothing more.

Another point to clarify: When quoting some critics and bloggers throughout this review, I am giving myself the liberty to quote any commentary that was targeting the first film as if it was written for this remake. I think they all will be relevant since I expect the whole idea to be the same for both movies.

Shall we begin?

Haneke appears to be obsessed with Stanley Kubrick; his helpless admiration as well as his homages to Kubrick's works are painfully obvious whenever you are slapped with one of them throughout the film - mainly because they lack any subtlety or intelligence. Even the trailer itself is a pastiche of the original A Clockwork Orange trailer, although not equally bizarre. The opening sequence is essentially the same as that of The Shining, but it also is a scene that serves as the brief introduction for our bourgeois family at hand. Not surprisingly, there is a feeling of artificiality when it comes to the depiction of this family's happiness and a certain sense of mistrust to their perfection. As will be confirmed further in the film, everything is actually on the edge of a knife for them, despite their tightly-secured homes or carefully selected neighbours and friends (as you see, there are a lot of reasons to panic). However, instead of observing these hidden imperfections in the bourgeois culture, this time we will rather enjoy watching this 'perfect' family being tortured and played with; because, honestly, who would be interested to witness the same things happening to a lower-class, African-American family who is already suffering at the hands of poverty and/or social inequality?

Enter the executioners who wear white, appear extremely sympathetic and do all these tortures purely for their joy (or without any apparent reason). If one of them would be named Alex, I would be vomiting on screen.

If he was half as insightful as Kubrick was though, Haneke would've realized that not speculating on his/her own films is extremely essential for any director when he/she makes a highly-interpretable film like Funny Games itself. When you tell everyone what your movie means and why it was made, you are dismissing them from participating and taking an active role in the perception of the movie. You are reducing a variety of opinions to a singular truth and killing all the valuable interpretations that the film would otherwise receive. Somewhere I came across a critic who called Funny Games a fascist exercise in filmmaking - I will agree but it has got more to do with Haneke's approach to explaining his film than the film itself. I don't believe that a director's intentions should be among the guidelines for anyone when trying to interpret a certain film - who's to say he did not include/leave out certain things unconsciously?

In many of his interviews, Haneke states his aim was to make a movie that would criticise our unhealthy consumer relationships with violence and the films (mostly American) that reduce it to mere instrument for our cheap thrills. And his way of criticising would be breaking the walls of illusion and repulsing the audiences who come to see this movie expecting 'cheap thrills'. This is great, but only in theory; because either he was not sincere with this statement or he gradually drowned in the depths of A Clockwork Orange and Kubrick's influence as he was making this film. Funny Games is, above everything else, a beautiful, delicate and stylized depiction of violence and torture, just like Kubrick's masterpiece is. How many films can you name that uses a color as effectively as white is used in this film; a white specifically chosen to emphasize the contrasts inherent in both the surroundings of the family and their humble torturers? Have you ever seen the color look so threatening and evil? How often are you terrified by subtle imagery like a rolling golf ball or a couple of broken eggs? Can't we say that the famous sequences of 'gates closing on the family' or the 'television covered in blood' transcend tens of minutes that most films have to offer nowadays, in terms of expressional strength?

These technical achievements would be a huge plus, had they not been contradictory to the stated purpose of the film, which is to shock and repulse the violence-loving audience. At this point, it's easy to claim that Haneke achieves the very opposite of what he had set out to do. The Austrian virtuoso should understand that 'enjoying' the films like Hostel and Saw IV is not about roaring with laughter or squirming with orgasmic delight when watching the violence on screen; it's more like the feeling when you are going down in a roller coaster; scary, uncomfortable but thrilling nonetheless. So those among us who are comfortable with buying violent imagery to entertain themselves will not be shocked by Funny Games; on the contrary they will immediately consume it and then will blurp about the slow pacing and lack of on-screen violence.

Also, how much of an art is it to be able to alienate and disgust the audience? How difficult is it to achieve that? You can simply shoot an insignificant object for six continuous hours and voila! - alienated audience. You can film a real autopsy to obtain the most genuine repulsion. Aside from Haneke's failure, his mission statement sounds quite unimpressive to me as well; even if he was able to accomplish what he was set out to do, how much would we have loved the resulting product?

This does not necessarily mean that the film is lacking any honest attempt to disturb its audience and make them think about what they really love. Haneke is aware that voyeurism is participation and he does his best to make us feel and acknowledge that fact as well. There are no clean getaways from Funny Games; no conventional happy endings that we can hide behind and feel 'relieved', neglecting and forgetting the actual process that fed our exhilaration; no more lying to ourselves that we are actually on the victim's side and no more denying of what we really enjoy. Every crumble of hope that was meticulously laid down by the director eventually withers and dies, every attempt the family makes to escape from the mansion fails, and the villains constantly address the audience; sometimes by talking, sometimes merely by winking or glancing, to remind us that we are a part of all this extravaganza. 'Is this enough?' asks Paul at one point, fiercely; suggesting that if we want it to stop, it will stop; that the family is being tortured only because we want to watch. Suspension of disbelief is much less important that the necessity that this family should suffer and Paul does not shy away even from rewinding the film upon an unexpected turn of events. Haneke leaves us alone with the thrill that we were desperately seeking and the guilt that is brought along; with nowhere to hide them and no way to deny them. That is exactly why I think Funny Games works on a surprisingly different level than what was intended for it. It is David Ansen's opinion that "Haneke means this exercise in cinematic sadism as a critique of the typical way Hollywood movies exploit violence on screen and turn the viewer into a bloodthirsty consumer of cheap thrills." He has a valid point, but what Haneke means to do and ends up doing are two different things. It might indeed be a reaction to Hollywood exploitation of violence but every reaction is not necessarily a criticism; and I think this film works better as an observation or a confrontation rather than a critique.

Or let me put it this way: If there is something that Funny Games criticizes, it's not the actual act of consumption but rather it's the hypocrisy of buying on-screen violence for our genuine sadistic joys and then denying them afterwards - almost like a post-orgasmic guilt.

Kubrick's genius on the other hand, was that he was able to tell the same thing approximately 30 years before Haneke did, also vastly surpassing the Austrian director's skills at that. For me the biggest flaw of this film is the fact that it's not able to deliver anything that the 10-minute 'Singin in the Rain' rape scene in A Clockwork Orange isn't capable of expressing. Haneke's work is overshadowed by the films that he obviously admires, which prevent him from finding his own voice this time and tell us something different.

I think that sums up my own perception of the film but below are my responses to some of the reviews that I read before seeing the film, which hopefully will fill out any holes that I have left behind.

6/10

I Disagree

*"Funny Games is an experiment, and should be approached as one."

Not to mock anyone but whoever can say that obviously didn't see any seriously-experimental film and what it looks like. The fact that the characters wink to the audience three times is not enough to label a film 'experimental' because the rest of what we see doesn't really fit into the description. Yes it's quite self-aware and yes "the concept is the movie" as Jim Emerson stated; but what Haneke has done feels more like executing a couple of overused stylistical innovations that saw better days than this. Experimental films should experiment, try new things; what Funny Games does is making use of some old technical tricks to get its point across.

That being said, I will admit that the idea of remaking this film can be considered experimental, just like Gus Van Sant's Psycho is experimental. Why he did that and what he was able to achieve with this remake will be coming up in the second volume of this article.

*"[Haneke] still crosses lines here more often than he justifies crossing them."

Confronting us with our long-denied, unorthodox joys is enough justification for me.

* "Basically torture porn every bit as manipulative and reprehensible as Hostel, even if it's tricked out with intellectual pretension."

* "Torture porn for the arthouse crowd"
* "This is Scream for arthouse aficionados"

These are probably the simplest observations to come up with about this movie. How can it be torture porn when there is no explicit torture on screen? If Hostel is the porn, Funny Games can be a softcore erotic film, not showing what we are dying to see but rather making us feel and imagine what's going on; arguably delivering a more satisfying experience. It's not gory details or physical violance that's centerpiece in this film but rather the emotional torture. The fact that it can be consumed by the torture-porn loving audiences does not necessarily put Haneke's film in the same league as Saw IV and Captivity.

*"Haneke's admonishments are disturbing only in the sense that they're never self-critical"

Which directors, exactly, are self-critical in their films? Can self-criticism even be a reason to make films? How megalomaniac would that be?

I Agree

*"Even if I am wrong about all this, who does Haneke think he's fooling? ... And the film's amazing half-million opening weekend and $1905 per-screen average pretty much proves him wrong, whether it proves me right or not."

So much for shocking and alienating torture-porn fans.

*"Yet Haneke is trafficking in the very thing he means to critique"

Well, not exactly. At least he doesn't use on-screen violence like Natural Born Killers did, while trying to criticise the very same thing. But still a valid statement.

*"Writer-director Haneke wants to torture you for loving violent movies"

He indeed sets out to do that, but in my humble opinion, fails miserably.

So there it is. Just like the external links under Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, the links above are also subject to change as I come across more worthy material on the internet.

Stay tuned for volume 2 and feel free to indulge me and send your comments in the meantime.

How Else To Rate?

Introducing Mehmet Cihan Yalcin

As some of you might already know, I'm the guest commentator Anil has mentioned a few posts back, and finally here I am, hopefully for a long time. In the past he did refer -sneakily- to our discussions in the blog, and I enjoyed the fact. When he asked me to join, I gladly accepted. I think, however, my presence here needs justification.

Why have me in the blog? I'd say 'for a different flavor'. Although Anil and I understand what the other seeks in a film, and would concede that the other's point of view is valid in the light of his expectations, we vehemently disagree both on the principles, and contemporary examples, of filmmaking. I think we can start outlining the difference with the basics.

I'll use a 1 to 10 scale like Anil to rate films here. Yet my evaluation criteria are different, so I'll give definitions of my ranking sets the way Anil had. He has rambled about the dilemmas of rating process, worry of fairness enough already and I don't feel like beating a dead dog. The way I see it if you explain your criteria at the beginning and adhere to them as you go, the process is as fair as it gets.

So, without further ado, I begin my countdown. To demonstrate the said discrepancy, I have chosen my examples for each rating set -randomly- from Anıl's top 50 list. Luckily I could find even a 1 in there.


10/10 - Pinnacle - A local maximum in filmmaking, in the sense that I cannot consider anything its superior. A true piece of art that not only offers greatness in many aspects but also has realized its full potential.

-Shawshank Redemption

9/10 - Magnificent - One of the finest items the art of cinema has to offer. The only shortfall may be the fact that there is one film that uses the elements that make it special better by a hair-thin margin, or even that the film had a potential to be greater than what it is, and should in future be outdone.

-The Godfather

8/10 - Groundbreaking - Has unique and extraordinary innovations that sets itself apart and potentially affects the future of the art. The said elements are used in conjunction with total competence in all aspects of filmmaking.

-Memento

7/10 - Excellent - A successful and solid movie - it's definitely made with a mature consciousness. A high amount of competence is in display in all aspects of the film, as well as some original ideas or practices that elevates its value far above the norm.

-Dogville

6/10 - Interesting - A good movie, watchable and satisfying. It also has some aspects that sets it apart from everything else.

-Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street

5/10 - Decent – What would be expected, and nothing more. Has a tight plot, good acting, smooth music and visuals etc., however lacks the “something extraordinary” to engage interest and challenge the viewer's intellect.

-C'era Una Volta il West

4/10 - Disappointing – A film that could have been much more than what it is. The film has some (possibly very) strong points, however there are numerous gimmicks that make it an unsatisfactory product.

-The Shining

3/10 - Boring – Whatever the film has to offer is lost amid heaps of worthless elements. Bland plots, poor acting, weak technique and/or a myriad of other small things can drag a film down to this category even if it excels in some other aspects.

-The Matrix

2/10 - Bad – A waste of my time. The time I spent watching it could have been better spent meditating in a silent abyss.

-Kill Bill – The Whole Bloody Affair

1/10 - Nothing – I don't like it, I don't hate it. I nothing it.

-Jurassic Park

My understanding of cinema as an art form, and even my understanding of art differs fundamentally from that of his, but this is a discussion for another time. Oh, we will need to do it sometime, for it is crucial to elaborate the almighty 'elements' that make or break a film, but the issue is too deep and complex, too hard to tackle in short order. For now, let it suffice to say that several points he considers critical are irrelevant for myself and vice-versa. (A very simple and concrete example would be his criterion that a 9 “can be viewed numerous times without getting tired of it”, where for yours truly a movie that I don't think demands a second viewing may well be a 10 and even a 5 can be enjoyed time and again.)

Another point that may be worth mention could be that I devote much less time to cinema than him, so my focus is narrower, either on certain styles or on films of high critical acclaim. The scale is set to accommodate a classification of such films. Consequently, my median rating for random sample sets would definitely be lower. I would recommend a film with rating 5 without any qualms, and probably consider a 6 a must-see.


Moreover, my classification is, ultimately, dependent on my personal experience rather than any “objective” consideration, I am my own voice rather than of a collective understanding or taste, so my ratings may differ wildly from those of establishments or the public. This is not saying that I am arbitrary or inconsistent, it only means that neither critical acclaim nor popularity will sway my evaluation. I will justify each rating and all criticism is welcome, if not for anything else, for giving me the opportunity to delve further into the reasons why I like what I like.

We would like to hear our readers' opinions about our metrics and evaluations of course. I would especially be pleased to face the outrage about, say, my rating of Kill Bill.

- Mehmet Cihan Yalcin