Reviews

  • Inside Man (2006)

    Inside Man (2006)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, March 2006) Once past the initial shock of surprise (No way! Spike Lee is trying for a mainstream movie! And look at that cast!), the best things about Inside Man is how it doesn’t disappoint. Oh, the script is generously riddled with embarrassing holes and arguable developments, but it’s so well-rounded with spicy characterization that it’s hard to care. What’s more, the dream-project cast is a sheer pleasure to watch, from the sheer coolness of Denzel Washington and Clive Owen to the brainy iciness of Jodie Foster all the way to head-turning screen-melting performances by newcomers Samantha Ivers and Florina Petcu. (The cast is so top-heavy that even solid players such as Willem Dafoe and Christopher Plummer get barely a passing mention.) The accumulation of details and quirky character moments is what truly makes this a solid thriller, helping in overlooking a familiar premise and story problems. It helps that both the script and the director wholeheartedly embrace New York in all of its cosmopolitan quirkiness, lending a very modern feel to the whole thing. For the first ninety minutes, Inside Man is a thriller at the top of its genre, moving quickly and efficiently with considerable wit and charm. It does lose a lot of energy during its last thirty minutes, bogging down in details that seem redundant and laboured after its excellent start. But no matter: Despite the flaccid last act, all that remains is a solid thriller, a fabulously entertaining movie and some of the best work in a while for all the names involved in the film. This is top-notch studio entertainment: I’ll let other decide whether Spike Lee has sold out or not, but as far as I’m concerned, I can only ask for more.

  • Make Your Own Damn Movie!, Lloyd Kaufman

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    St. Martin’s, 2003, 329 pages, C$21.95 tpb, ISBN 0-312-28864-6

    In the world of independent, low-budget cinema, Troma enjoys a solid reputation as, well, a purveyor of schlock. It specializes in films made on a shoestring and often regrettably unbridled imagination. Troma’s subject matter, as the name suggests, is not for everyone, though everyone will be offended at one point or another: Grotesque monsters, nude actresses, gory violence and foul subject matter are where Troma films start: it may be best not to imagine where they end. You may not have seen any of Troma’s films (indeed, I had to seek them out to see what the fuss was all about), but don’t feel too bad about it: Troma’s entire business strategy is to gain a cult following, not mainstream acclaim. If SOUTH PARK is too rough for you, then consider that Matt Stone and Tray Parker’s CANNIBAL: THE MUSICAL is one of the tamest things in Troma’s distribution inventory.

    But you don’t have to know Troma, or even to enjoy it in order to get quite a kick out of Make Your Own Damn Movie!, an inspirational tutorial on how to make your own low-budget film. Troma owner/director Lloyd Kaufman has more than thirty year’s worth of experience in the field, and every single page of the book contains some hard-won experience that is of interest to any amateur filmmaker: Far from Hollywood’s excess, most film-making is a matter of sweat and perseverance, not star trailers and personal assistants. You don’t need to be anywhere near New York or Los Angeles to pick up a video camera and make your own damn movie… and that’s the point of the book.

    Co-written with Adam Janhke and Trent Hagar (who both play the role of long-suffering assistants to Kaufman’s dictatorial megalomania), Make Your Own Damn Movie! is far, far away from a dry film-making tutorial. Thanks to Troma’s patented tastelessness, the book is crammed with unsavoury allusions, bad language, rollicking anecdotes and a parade of jokes. From a relatively solid structure and useful advice, Kaufman and company have crafted a compulsively readable homage to low-budget film-making. While I can guess that the pressures of making a film on a nonexistent budget aren’t always a treat (let’s just say that the making-of documentaries on Troma films can be more harrowing than the movies themselves), they make for excellent conversation points, and the chatty style of the book makes it hard to stop reading.

    Now, don’t worry: I have no intention of making my own damn movie. But I do enjoy looking at the inner workings of cinema, and Make Your Own Damn Movie! carries its own weight as an unflinching examination of the lower rungs of movie-making. While DVD special features have been a blessing in looking behind the scenes of major Hollywood productions, those studio films are only a tiny percentage of the total number of films made every year. Most productions do end up like a Troma shoot: tiny budgets, ill-paid cast and crew, baling-twine production values and a rushed schedule designed for nervous breakdowns. Make Your Own Damn Movie! may be cracking wise with jokes and masochistic suffering, but it’s a great deal more realistic than the average Hollywood shoot. As an insight in what goes into making average films, it’s invaluable.

    It’s also uniquely inspiring for any aspiring filmmaker: By the end of the film, even I felt empowered to grab a digital camera and go shoot a first reel. (Fortunately, I reminded myself in time that all I want to do is write.) For cinephiles, Make Your Own Damn Movie!‘s vivid writing is a pure treat, and possibly the beginning of an invigorating discussion. Low-budget filmmakers, having nothing to lose from current conditions, are constantly looking for the next technological innovation. So it comes naturally that among many other things, Kaufman and Haaga entertain a book-long argument about the merits of digital video (which hilariously devolves into name-calling) and Kaufman offers a worthy digression on the current state of copyright and the studio’s overreaction to digital file-trading.

    Of course, the book is also a good promotional pitch for Troma movies. But while you may or may not like Troma’s offerings, there is a lot more to this book than make-up tips on how to fake gory effects. Every page contains a joke, a minor revelation, a fun anecdote and a tip to make you own damn movie: it’s impossible to resist.

  • Mystery Of The Nile (2005)

    Mystery Of The Nile (2005)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In IMAX theaters, March 2006) As a real-life adventure, running down the Nile from its source to Cairo is unparallelled. As an excuse for an IMAX film, it’s a source of fabulous images. As a documentary feature, though, it has its lengthy moments. The fault isn’t with the characters: Pasquale Scaturro and his merry crew of adventurers are a lot of fun to follow through unimaginable adventures and arresting images. Part of the fun is wondering how they managed to get those pictures. But after a while, the film meanders a bit and gets bogged down in religious and spiritual reflexions. But no matter: it’s all part of the adventure, from rapids to lost civilizations to friendly natives to portages and natural dangers. Good fun, well-served by the advantages of Omnimax. (In Omnimax theatre)

  • Fighter Pilot: Operation Red Flag (2004)

    Fighter Pilot: Operation Red Flag (2004)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In IMAX theaters, March 2006) As a certified military hardware buff, I had a number of dropped-jaw moments during this documentary. Covering (and re-creating) the annual “Red Flag” training tournament, director Stephen Low’s Fighter Pilot: Operation Red Flag gives us military planes on glorious 70mm negatives and kick-ass surround sound. Just wait until you see a B-2 Spirit stealth bomber slide into view, or hear the heart-stopping rumble of an A-10 Warthog main gun. While the structure of the film can be a scatter-shot of cool scenes that only aviation geeks will love, the quality of the pictures more than makes up for it. It generally improves by the end of the film, even concluding with a rescue sequence that easily belongs in a Bruckheimer action movie. A lot of stuff blows up. It’s all good. Given the international nature of the “Red Flag” exercise, Canadians even get to hear a snippet of Québécois. Albeit limited by the nature of the venture (This film would have not existed if it wasn’t for the collaboration of Boeing and the Air Force), Fighter Pilot is a lot of fun for aviation enthusiasts. What for sure is that this isn’t the usual Omnimax nature film. (In Omnimax theatre)

  • 16 Blocks (2006)

    16 Blocks (2006)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, March 2006) There is something old-fashioned in this straight-up thriller by veteran director Richard Donner. The trailer may try to sell you an action film, but there’s little in the actual film to reflect that: Much closer to traditional crime thrillers, 16 Blocks even indulges in a considerable amount of character development between its leads, a burnt-out useless cop (Bruce Willis), and an annoying criminal (Mos Def). There are few highlights in the film, but on the other hand it’s solid throughout its entire duration (with a number of third-act slip-ups) and doesn’t waste the elements in hand. Willis is especially solid as a terminal case seeing a last chance at redemption; it’s great good fun to see him go one-on-one with David Morse. There isn’t anything particularly memorable about this film, but it doesn’t matter as much as you’d think: at a time where even solid thrillers are rare, this isn’t bad at all.

  • Free Fall, Kyle Mills

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Avon, 2000, 466 pages, C$9.99 mmpb, ISBN 0-06-109802-7

    At first glance, there really isn’t much to distinguish Free Fall from dozens of other run-of-the-mill thrillers. Here’s a presidential campaign; here’s a young woman targeted by a conspiracy; here’s a renegade policeman who breaks all the rules; here’s a top-secret document that contains explosive secrets. No, Free Fall isn’t particularly original: from crooked politicians to evil henchmen, it uses stock elements from Central Plotting.

    But why be original when you can be good?

    The magic words on the cover are “Kyle Mills”: While I haven’t been enthusiastic about any of his books (Heck, I felt so indifferent about his Burn Factor that I filed it in my library without reviewing it), there’s a better-than-average quality to his work that’s hard to dismiss. Rising Phoenix had a fascinating premise about poisoning America’s drug supply, while Storming Heaven involved a conspiracy from a sect that was not called Scientology. But those starting points were backed-up by a solid execution, most notably in the characterization of series protagonist Mark Beamon. While the only distinctive thing about Free Fall‘s premise may be the MacGuffin (Hoover’s secret FBI files), Beamon is back here in a third instalment that builds upon the strengths and consequences of his previous adventures.

    I know that I’ve been hard on some thriller authors for endlessly recycling their heroes in adventure after adventure. Most of the time, there is a solid basis to that complaint: All too often, the authors reset all or part of their universe from one book from another, trying to leech off their protagonist’s popularity without dealing with the consequences of their actions. But Mills won’t have it like that: The consequences of Storming Heaven are a big part in Free Fall‘s setup as Beamon starts this novel under the glare of public scrutiny (including the federal government) for his role in the leak of dozens of very damaging telephone conversations. His reputation at the bureau both destroyed and enhanced thanks to the events of the previous novel. Part of the fun in Free Fall is seeing him exploit and suffer from his fame. Now that’s how to continue a series.

    Mills’ typical gift for characterization and his keen sense of politics also help him flesh out the essential dynamics of the novel to a better extent than many of his colleagues: Beamon is exceptional as a series hero, believably intuitive and clever enough to think his way out of trouble with a certain hangdog style. Meanwhile, Free Fall earns the distinction of portraying a corrupt politician in a way that almost seems refreshing. As a third-party presidential candidate, it’s easy to guess that David Hallorin is a bad guy (it almost always ends up that way in American political fiction), but Mills is frighteningly good in portraying the mechanics of demagoguery: Hallorin’s official speeches and policies don’t sound bad at all. Even better: The last few pages of Free Fall are a neat little trick of political complexity, pitting unpleasant characters against each other not in order to secure a win, but to balance out the evils in the hope that everything will hold together just a bit longer. For those who think that “final solutions” (often in the form of a bullet) are an overused tool of suspense novels, this is nothing short of a lovely cap to a satisfying novel.

    But more than individual coups, it’s the way that Free Fall is put together, often surprising and keeping us off-balance, that makes it all worthwhile. There are coincidences, stereotypes, abrupt reversals, conventional mechanics and overused ideas, but they’re put together and tweaked just so that they appear almost afresh. The dialogues alone are better than average. It also helps that Mills’ own pet obsessions are featured in the novel: A rock climber himself, Mills has included a number of mountaineering scenes in Free Fall and if it’s often difficult to visualize the mountaineering action, it’s described with such crackling passion that even the fuzziness doesn’t matter.

    Written like a rocket, with enough suspense both visceral and intellectual, Free Fall is enough to make me wonder why I haven’t looked for any of Mills’ last few novels. While it doesn’t carry with itself the electric shock of a thriller packed with innovations, it’s more than able to play with preexisting conventions. Don’t be surprised to find yourself reading it after hours.

  • The Dark Wing, Walter F. Hunt

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Tor, 2001, 468 pages, C$10.99 mmpb, ISBN 0-765-34069-0

    [January 2007: I wrote the following while cranky. This is one of those reviews that tell you more about the reviewer than the work being discussed. While I stand behind my disappointment with the novel, I acknowledge that the sarcastic riffs below are unfair to the author.]

    Now here’s an interesting achievement: A military Science Fiction novel that isn’t, and a book with plenty of annoyances that somehow kept my interest until its increasingly dull ending. I still wonder how that happened.

    At first glance, Walter F. Hunt’s The Dark Wing is straight-up military SF with all the obvious clichés of the sub-genre: Bad aliens, imperial government, military heroes, big space navies and so on. Comparisons with the Honor Harrington series are too obvious: It took an entire sub-genre to raise this novel, and at first there isn’t much to distinguish it from countless other run-of-the-mill SF adventures.

    The imperial system of government is particularly grating, especially given how it seems to accompany every single “space navy” series: To heck with representative democracy! One yearns for Victorian England all over again as the good old macho way of fighting wars. But that’s also lazy wordbuilding: Why bother with the complex accountability mechanisms build into our modern governance systems when it’s much, much easier to set up an emperor thanks to some nebulous historical event, and give that emperor a big shiny navy to play with? No one will be surprised to learn that right-wing politics are also featured as a necessary plot point: As The Dark Wing begins, those pesky unreasonable aliens have just invaded human space again, thanks to the wussy “peace agreements” signed by the cowardly hippie politicians, clearly showing that the only good alien is a dead alien. This is familiar to the point on contemptuousness, especially when an admiral is tasked with the final solution: complete xenocide to get rid of the problem. Hey, it’s the only way to be sure.

    But The Dark Wing is a long book. A very long book. Eventually, most of the novel’s early assumptions are overturned. The human campaign of extermination against the aliens, for instance, is entirely too successful, leading the aliens to believe that a long-held prophecy is taking shape. (…sigh… what is it with those alien prophecies in SF? Heck, what is it with those nice square alien monolithic societies in which pretty much every single alien believes the same thing, without any differences in sub-culture, age or education?) Before you know it, the human characters have to play nice so that the entire alien race (no kidding: the entire alien race) don’t commit ritual suicide out of dishonoured spite.

    More alien characters also mean more alien passages with nouns that seem randomly pecked on the keyboard. I often speed-read those passages and this habit didn’t do me any harm in The Dark Wing, where dozens of pages are wasted on things that could be summarized far more interestingly from the human point of view. (I call it the italics skip: If it’s longer than two or three lines and it’s in italics, chances are that it’s not useful material, probably duplicates the human-side information and can thus be skimmed with minimal loss of context.)

    Of course, the more the aliens become familiar, the less the author will be willing to blast the living smithereens out of them. And in an unusual switch from my usual goody-goody yearnings, I ended up mourning this lack of xenocide. I’ve read enough stories in the past in which big bad aliens suddenly become our fuzzy friends that I’m in the market for a novel that promises and delivers a full, undiluted, even-the-alien-dogs-and-chickens massacre. If they’re so bad, let them stay bad and let’s indulge in our basest instinct of extermination. Worked against the Neanderthals, I believe: let’s try it again.

    (Oh yes, I’m being inconsistent in the very same review. Try it; it’s pure joy.)

    To heck with Ender’s guilt, to heck with my objections to standard military SF: Let’s kill some bugs. But then the novel has this wonderful moment in which part of the rug is pulled under our feet, and all we’re left wondering is What, what? What just happened here? How is that possible? Lighting-fast reflexes of deduction honed by years of reading SF quickly allow us to deduce that there’s a third player in this game, one pulling off a neat game of solitaire with humans and aliens as puppets. This is also the point where The Dark Wing switches gears from military to mystical –not a switch that I fully endorse (I use “mystical” as a reliable synonym for “gibberish”), but one that certainly realigns the novel in another direction.

    But that direction is to be found in another novel, because for all of the book’s 450+ pages, its latter half grinds to an anticlimactic halt. It all becomes setup not just for another volume, but for three more books in a series that may or may not end there. At this point, I just don’t know if I’m tempted to go further. The story so far has too many twists and turns to dismiss out of hand. But the annoyances are real (if contradictory) and I doubt that they’ll smooth over in the course of a four book series. What little I’ve read about the other books doesn’t inspire confidence either. I suppose I’ll let the power of used book sales guide me in making a decision…

  • The Ghost Brigades, John Scalzi

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Tor, 2006, 317 pages, C$31.95 hc, ISBN 0-765-31502-5

    Writer/blogger John Scalzi made quite a splash in early 2005 with the release of Old Man’s War, a straight-up military Science Fiction novel that went on to very successful sales and favourable critical acclaim. Barely a year later, the sequel The Ghost Brigades is already available on bookstore shelves, raising all sorts of questions about Scalzi’s superhuman writing skills.

    Not the least of which is “how does he manage to keep it up?” Old Man’s War wasn’t cutting-edge SF, but it could boast of compulsively readable prose and a roaring rhythm. At a time where unputdownable is as overused as it’s ungrammatical, Scalzi is the real deal: someone who can deliver a fast, fun SF story that remains accessible and doesn’t take you for an idiot. With Old Man’s War, he showed that he could do it once; with The Ghost Brigades, he proves that he can do it again.

    Set in the same universe as Old Man’s War, The Ghost Brigades takes a step deeper into the inner workings of the Colonial Defence Forces first introduced in the earlier book. A minor character gets a more substantial supporting part here, though the hero is entirely new in more ways than one: Jared Dirac is a force-grown clone, originally meant for a top-secret imprinting experiment, but then recycled in the CDF’s special forces . Meant to be someone else, he has to confront who he’s supposed to become.

    While The Ghost Brigades can’t duplicate the delicious feeling of discovery that so characterized Old Man’s War (this time, we’re familiar with the universe and with Scalzi himself), it’s easily just as good in terms of narrative efficiency: Jared’s training is less military than social, and his subsequent combat adventures are enhanced by a different personal dimension than Old Man’s War‘s John Perry. Scalzi is skilled in quickly raising a number of issues related to his chosen theme of identity and consciousness: while some of them will feel old-hat to a number of veteran SF readers, they’re discussed so briefly that they don’t linger too long..

    As is the case with nearly all of Scalzi’s writing to date (and here I’m lumping together his fiction alongside things like his blog and The Rough Guide to Sci-Fi Movies), the prose is crystal-clear. Moments of humour are well-handled, along with a number of sly reversals —such as a good part of the first chapter. But don’t think that The Ghost Brigade is one big funny romp: One of the most satisfying aspects of the book is how it explores the darker side of the series’ universe, with its unforgiving realities (ie; let’s kill them before they kill us) and complicated politics. Doubts are raised as to the righteousness of the CDF (and never quite dismissed), simultaneously taking in account some of my problems with Old Man’s War and showing the way toward a third volume in the series.

    Scalzi shows a good grasp of the genre’s gadgets and conventions, acknowledging a number of authors here and there while manipulating techno-military jargon with fluid ease. It’s important to note that Scalzi, while immensely respectful of the military, doesn’t share the rigid right-wing politics of many military SF writers: As a result, his fiction is filled with nuances and caveats that simply make it more interesting to read. Alternatives are discussed and characters genuinely anguish over their actions. As a result, even liberals come to understand when it’s time to lock up any doubts and fire at full automatic.

    As good as it is, The Ghost Brigades comes with a few caveats: It is a bit on the thin side and may be more appropriate as a paperback than a full-price hardcover. As entertaining as it is, it also raises an interesting question: When will Scalzi try his hand at a more ambitious project? As coldbloodedly professional as he appears to be in his approach to his career, I doubt that he will suddenly drop everything else to produce an insanely ambitious 500-page work of art ready to challenge, say, Ian McDonald’s River of Gods. But I wonder. I wonder because I’ve seen what he’s capable of doing (twice) and I can’t wait to see him tackle bigger and better things.

  • The Curse of Chalion, Lois McMaster Bujold

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Harper Torch, 2001, 502 pages, C$10.99 mmpb, ISBN 0-380-81860-4

    I approached Lois McMaster Bujold’s The Curse of Chalion by reminding myself of the old conundrum about an irresistible force encountering an immovable object. Regular readers know that I’m not a fan of generic fantasy. Books in that genre first have to convince me to overcome my usual prejudices and only then can they start being evaluated on their own merits. On the other hand there’s Lois McMaster Bujold, who has rarely written something I haven’t liked. Even her most ordinary efforts, like Diplomatic Immunity, are comfortably above the average SF novel. She masters characterization like few others and her prose style is so smooth as to be irresistible.

    And yet, most of her fiction output has been set in the “Miles Vorkosigan” SF universe. How would she do in a brand-new setting? While The Curse of Chalion is not her first foray in full-length fantasy (her little-known novel The Spirit Ring claims that honour), it seemed to mark not just a change of genre, but a new step in her career. (From Baen, she switched to Harper Collins for this novel and all latter ones; plans to return to Baen and Miles Vorkosigan, are as of yet unknown). So how did she do? How did I do?

    Turn out that the immovable object was moved: The Curse of Chalion easily overcame my usual objections against fantasy in mere pages, and got better as it continued. It starts and ends with great characters; the rest naturally takes care of itself.

    The standout hero of this story is Cazaril, an experienced warrior with plenty of scars: Abandoned by his own side, he returns to familiar grounds as the story opens, trying to find a new place for himself with scarcely nothing more than rags on his back. Fortunately (and “fortunately” is a word that plays heavily in a story dominated by gods), he still has a few friends: Before long, he finds himself assigned to be secretary-tutor to a princess. But there is a reason why his own side left him rotting in a foreign country: secrets that influential people still don’t want made public…

    For its first half, The Curse of Chalion isn’t much more than palace intrigue with fantasy trappings. I write this as if it’s a bad thing, but it means a compulsively readable thriller thanks to Bujold’s capable hands. Cazaril is many things, but he is first a dependable character: The novel revolves around him (indeed, he’s the only viewpoint character) because he’s such a bedrock of common sense. Strong, battered, seasoned to the point of flippancy against impossible odds, he makes his choices and sticks to them whatever the consequences. It’s page-turning stuff, even if the “fantasy” label seems a bit weak.

    And then something quite wonderful happens, turning the entire novel into something else. It’s not really a twist given how we don’t learn anything that overturns previous assumptions. But The Curse of Chalion suddenly delves far more deeply into the nature of its mythology, with very real religions and associated magical powers. Cazaril himself is transformed by this turning point, elevated to a position that is at odds with everything he’s known this far. And yet, he keeps pushing back, always fighting for what he swore to do. Romantic themes are gradually weaved into the story, alongside some more intrigue and high-level strategy. It ends as you may wish for, with a battle and a triumph.

    Still, I remains of two minds about the book’s (over)use of chance and coincidence as plot drivers. On one hand, it becomes a real thematic element of the novel’s meditation over the role of gods in a world where their influence cannot be denied. What are mortals but mere puppets? On another hand, some of the plot developments still stretch credulity and do knock some structural supports out of the story. On yet another hand, most of those coincidences would have been perfectly fine in a novel twice its length showing the details preceding The Curse of Chalion… but that doesn’t necessarily mean that I would have enjoyed reading it all. In the end, it’s better to nod along and consider all of it as divine intervention.

    What’s not so attributable to divine intervention, however, is Bujold’s gift for characters and effortless prose. The Curse of Chalion is professional-level fantasy, attractive to even non-fans of the genre. In the age-old question, we now know that irresistible is stronger than immovable.

  • When A Stranger Calls (2006)

    When A Stranger Calls (2006)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, February 2006) Some movies don’t have a reason for existing, and this is one of them. A limp thriller that takes far too long to get to the point and then does nothing with it, When A Stranger Calls is mass-produced entertainment for the undemanding teenage audiences. Don’t worry, though; even the stupidest teenager won’t be fooled by this slick and lifeless rehash of a punchy urban legend. Audiences nowadays are familiar with the “…inside the house!” punchline, and making them wait 65 minutes for it is just another mark of incompetence in a long list of problems for this film. Director Simon West has done some acceptable work before (Con Air, The General’s Daughter), but even a good grasp of technical fundamentals can’t mask the lack of thrills in this thriller. While the set design is fabulous (When A Stranger Calls is yet another film where the house is more interesting than all the characters put together) the rest is so obvious that audiences are constantly smarter than the screenwriter. The discovery of an underwater corpse is more likely to evoke a sense of expectations fulfilled than anything approaching horror. Don’t worry if you’re reading this and can’t remember even hearing about this remake: given how it failed to find a reason to exist, how can it even find a way to aspire to posterity?

  • On, Adam Roberts

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Gollancz, 2001, 388 pages, C$24.95 tpb, ISBN 0-575-07177-X

    What little that I’ve read of Adam Robert’s fiction so far has been heavy with two distinguishing characteristics. First; some gentle stylistic exploration (the implicit ur-narrator in Stone and Salt, for instance) and second; a thirst for world-building. While On doesn’t do much in terms of stylistic experimentation, it’s certainly side-heavy with one strange environment.

    In young protagonist Tighe’s life, everything revolves around the Wall. The Wall on whose ledges he and his village live, seeing the sun ascend all day long, not knowing much about what’s above, below or to the side of them. Gravity is paramount, especially when cattle (or people) fall off the ledges. This is not a prosperous life: humanity, in this novel, has been reduced to subsistence living, clustered in theocratic tribes. Tighe is supposed to be quasi-royalty in this village, but the first few chapter only show us a teenager unable to fit in a group that can’t afford secrets or dissent. Perhaps inevitably, he comes to fall off the edge of the Wall.

    And so his picaresque adventure begins. Miraculously saved from a hard landing lower down the Wall, he heals and is then sent off to war, soldier in an army bigger than he could ever imagine. Through his adventures, we come to understand the world, discover its secrets and go through a number of most excellent adventures. Precariousness, Adams tells us in an accompanying note, is the keyword of this novel: Tighe’s position is never secure, never stable, never comfortable. He is thrown from an adventure to the other: few of his companions stick around for more than a few pages. Many die horribly.

    I wouldn’t so far as to say that world-building is one of Science Fiction’s unique pleasures (Fantasy does it too, in addition to countless historical novels, or even stories set in unfamiliar societies), but On certainly plays the game with a lot of energy: You get used, eventually, to a vertical world and what it implies. This being said, I was never particularly convinced by elements of the basic premise, despite a laborious technical appendix detailing the how and why of On‘s particular situation. (In particular, I kept wondering where water would come from: On horizontal worlds like ours, aquifers are replenished by gravity, which just isn’t possible in On.) Vertical worlds aren’t completely new (K.W. Jeter’s Farewell Horizontal comes to mind, for instance, though that was set on an artificial environment where verticality definitely wasn’t normality), but they have rarely been as all-encompassing as this one. Despite my resistance to stories set in primitive settings, I actually went along with the ride, oohing and aahing whenever Adams wished.

    It helps that Adams is a slick professional whose prose clicks effortlessly. There is good forward momentum, and a number of very good scenes: I’m still quite creeped out by a sequence in which one of Tighe’s friend is eaten alive by a Very Large Bug. Sure, On often has the disconnected feel of a novel made out of various vignettes, but it’s reasonably fun to read and seems to be heading somewhere. The prose is uncluttered and it’s almost short enough to avoid overstaying its welcome.

    Almost, I said. It may be just a bit too short and leading a bit too far, in fact: the last fifty pages turn into a very different story, one that starts, then stops, then starts again. The last chapter has a curiously unfinished feel to it, almost as if we’d reached the end of the book but not the story. It’s a arguable choice given how the rest of Tighe’s adventures also carry this unfinished feel, but it still feels incomplete. Maybe even silly, if you look at it the wrong way.

    This ambivalence may serve to explain how I’m left neither disappointed nor impressed by the novel. Original premise aside, it’s a competent story that is well-handled without any pyrotechnics. Pure mid-list SF, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. But the lack of stylistic flourishes makes me yearn for Adams’ other efforts. Maybe Polystom, the next one on my list, will be more ambitious.

  • Walk The Line (2005)

    Walk The Line (2005)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, February 2006) Oh yawn, you may say at first glance: Another musical biography in which the hero abuses substances and sleeps with too many women. Cue the childhood flashbacks, the musical number, the early touring recreation, the celebrity cameos, the rise to glory, the detox. What usually gets left by the wayside is the whole musician angle: why do these people choose to be musicians? What makes them tick? In the case of Johnny Cash, the question is more than academic, given how he portrayed himself as an outlaw despite a tepid personal background. This aspect of the man, unfortunately, takes a back seat to the drugs and adultery. But the usual caveats aside, when Walk The Line clicks, it does so enjoyably: The musical numbers are fit to leave you humming Cash tunes for a few days (with a particular nod toward “Walk the Line” and “Ring of Fire”), and there’s a fabulous fifteen minutes sequence in which Cash shares a tour with other budding superstars such as Roy Orbison, Jerry Lee Lewis and (if I caught that moment correctly), Elvis Presley. (Can you imagine seeing such a show?) The early rockabilly stuff is pure toe-tapping enjoyment, and Joaquin Phoenix’s performance is fabulous. Then the film slides into a more conventional self-destructive spiral interrupted in time for a graceful climactic salvation. Eh; I’d rather learn more about Johnny Cash than just the usual dramatic arc.

  • Transamerica (2005)

    Transamerica (2005)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, February 2006) My rather silly quest to see every single Oscar-nominated film of the year can lead to some unusual situations, and so that’s how I found myself, five minutes into Transamerica, wondering if I’d ever make it to the end of the film. Felicia Huffman may turn in a fabulous performance as a transitioning woman, but her character starts out as one of the most pitiful and unlikable character of the year. Things don’t really start getting any better as we meet her son, a small-time junkie teen prostitute whom she takes on a road trip from New York to California. Uncomfortable situations follow one another in picaresque fashion mixed with a strong blend of low-budget griminess. Fortunately, the movie started to work just as I was contemplating the EXIT sign with some interest. The protagonist finally exhibits a few likable qualities and the humour emerges to the forefront. By the end of the film, starting from its dysfunctional-family third act, it’s easy to feel a rough sympathy for all characters. The film redeems itself right before the credits, leaving us with a positive impression despite the early rough going. Transamerica is not a transcendentally moving film, but it eventually comes together: I’m glad I stayed for the entire thing.

    (Second viewing, On DVD, August 2007) I almost hated Transamerica in theatres, but I must say that it plays a lot better on DVD. Knowing where the story is going frees up the comedic elements of the film, and the director’s commentary is truly interesting to hear as it details the ways a low-budget film is made, and what elements went into the conception of the film. Transamerica hasn’t suddenly sprung up to the top of any of my lists, but I now carry a much fonder impression of it than before.

  • Running Scared (2006)

    Running Scared (2006)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, February 2006) This film is trash from beginning to end and I loved it. Seemingly written by an European screenwriter whose only understanding of America comes from true-crime stories and Tarantino films, Running Scared drops us in a pocket universe of roughly twenty awful people who never, ever sleep as their destinies clash on a night where a stolen gun is the object of all desires –and the root of all evil. Nice description, but even I don’t believe it: it’s easier to see this as an exercise in style, loosely hung together with some of the most outrageous writing in recent memory. Gun-runners, killer couples, child abusers, sadistic hockey players and two kinds of mafias abound in this dark fairy tale: even a chance slip into a van to avoid danger bring a character to horrors scarcely imaginable. It works only because the execution is as wild as the script, with plenty of delicious shots to keep things hopping. The film is as manipulative as it’s exhilarating, reaching for Domino-style excess well after it has pummelled its viewers in insensibility. There is a particularly affecting scene involving snuff-making pedo-serial killers (no less) that is unbelievably preposterous, yet gripping even as you realize you’re being played. It’s easy to dismiss this film as nothing more than a self-indulgent mess, but it’s a lot more fun to go along with the ride and whoop it up as the atrocious coincidences and the impossible twists just keep piling on. Throw a challenge at the film: dare it to lose you. I may be a minority of one on this, but I would rather be prodded by a bad film than bored by a good one. Running Scared certainly won’t be for everyone; I can only hope you’ll be one of the lucky few who get the joke.

  • The Producers (2005)

    The Producers (2005)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, February 2006) A triumphant return to the old-style movie musical comedy without any of the trappings that made Moulin Rouge! or Chicago so distinctive, The Producers‘ post-modernism is derived solely from its tortuous history as a movie adaptation of a musical from a film lampooning musicals. Everything about this film is practised, with even Matthew Broderick and Nathan Lane reprising their Broadway roles. Though the pratfalls and asides must have been considerably more effective in a live setting, this film does carry over an effective sense of fun and spectacle. The jokes are all well-worn, but they still work even despite, or because, their broad delivery. Uma Thurman makes a surprisingly funny Ulla (“Now, watch Ulla dance!”) and the songs are finger-snapping good. There’s no depth here, nor anything approaching subtlety, but it’s a fine time at the movies and that’s not so bad.