She might be the best director you've never heard of. Andrea Arnold writes and directs from a place of realism that few storytellers are able to find within, let alone depict sympathetically. Born the eldest of four girls and raised by a young, single mother in Dartford, Kent, she experienced all the difficulties of growing up lower-middle class as a teenage girl. Many of her main characters reflect this shade of existence and most of them are women who, despite their egregious sins, are simply human beings looking for love. 

Arnold first garnered critical acclaim with the debut of the short film Wasp at the 2005 Sundance Film Festival. It won the Short Film Prize and Arnold was also awarded an Academy Award for Best Live Action Short Film that same year. The film, just 24 minutes long, expertly depicts a day in the life of a single mother (Nathalie Press) and her 4 children. A supremely simple concept, the film itself is filled with tension, joy, and heartache -- and manages never to pass judgment on this young mother for her neglectful behavior. 

Arnold again worked with Press in her first full-length project, Red Road, being the first entry in the Advance Party trilogy of films depicting the same characters by different producers and directors. The concept of the trilogy was developed by Lars von Trier among others, envisioning a vehicle for first time filmmakers to write and direct their own stories. Profiles were provided for the main characters; besides these required essentials, the directors were free to develop the characters in whatever time, place, and situation they liked. Arnold's entry for the series has been called "one of the best British films of the last 25 years," winning the Jury Prize at Cannes. 

Fish Tank is Arnold's most accomplished piece to date (also having won the Jury Prize in 2009 at Cannes). A story about the awkwardness of a teenage girl's transition into womanhood, it introduces Mia -- a tough, street-wise loner -- with all the fondness of a tender mother.  Mia (newcomer Katie Jarvis) is young enough to still want her mother's guidance but experienced enough to know she won't get it as long as her mother is chasing the man of the week. Instead, she spends her time doing the only thing she is talented at or passionate about: dancing. Some of the most powerful scenes in the film are when Mia is alone and moving to hip-hop beats the audience cannot hear, witnessing intimate moments never meant to be seen by anyone. We get the sense that not only is she guarded with others, but that it has taken months for Mia to even be vulnerable with herself. Arnold's direction shines as Michael Fassbender (playing Connor, Mia's mother's boyfriend) encourages Mia in her dancing and she develops a crush; scenes that could have been heavy-handed or creepy were instead touching, realistic portraits of confusing teenage affection. Arnold has a palpable soft spot for girls like Mia, covering her mostly-bleak story in slivers of hope due to the character's tenacity. Fish Tank was also shot chronologically, the actors being given only that day's scenes to facilitate the insecurity of not knowing the outcomes of their actions; the result is a raw, truthful snapshot of a life not so different from Arnolds' own. 

Most recently, Arnold adapted Wuthering Heights into a stripped down, contemporary version of the love story that is dividing critics. It has all the hallmarks of her storytelling style but is her first foray into adapted content. Unconventional choices (such as casting black actor James Howson as Heathcliff) caused some controversy, but the film was received favorably at festivals for its stunning, moody visuals. 

Arnold's stories are ultimately about women who are lost and looking for love amidst the harsh realities of working-class life. Each one is exploring sexuality, seeing men as either objects, saviors, or mistakes; such perspectives are often missing from film. Her work is usually excellent; always provocative; and worth exploring.

Wasp can be viewed in its entirety on Vimeo (embedded below).
Red Road and Wuthering Heights are available OnDemand and through Netflix DVDs. 
Fish Tank is available for streaming on Netflix.

Drawing stylistic comparisons to Christopher Nolan's Batman films, you can't really blame the editors of the first Iron Man 3 trailer for going with what works. A tortured hero stricken with doubt and guilt, alluding to death, epic (slightly dub-steppy) music, and a voice-over by an intimidating villain. And effective it is:  the trailer is just 1 million views behind The Avengers' 37 million at the time of this writing.

Shane Black replaces Jon Favreau as director, a transition that may breathe new life and vision into the series. Robert Downey, Jr. wanted to "radically challenge Stark’s identity, rather than just have him battle another bad guy." Black, too, felt that the story needed to develop organically from the deeply personal place hinted at in The Avengers. You may remember Stark and Cap's argument, something involving "everything special about you came out of a bottle." This comment alone showed us how deep is Stark's need for validation and his emotional progression demands an answer to the question, "Does the man make the suit or does the suit make the man?"

The trailer confirms some of the speculated plot details about which Marvel and Disney have been fairly tight-lipped. We  pick up just after Stark returns to his Malibu home following the events in New York City. The story was primarily inspired by the Extremis story arc wherein nanotech scientists Aldrich Killian (Guy Pierce) and Dr. Maya Hansen (Rebecca Hall) develop technology that allows man and metal to become symbiotic machines (via a virus), inspiring Stark's next suit.  Ben Kingsley plays Mandarin, the aforementioned intimidating villain and terrorist, who acts as the primary opposing force to Stark. 

It is refreshing to see Stark concerned about losing the things that mean the most to him (a.k.a. Pepper Potts) now that he has opened up his heart to the world around him. Based on the trailer, it looks like Gwyneth Paltrow will get significantly more screen time and a substantial arc of her own. The brief glimpse of the suit confronting Pepper in bed is potentially a misdirect, though most likely explained by one of the nightmares Stark mentions and/or the fact that he is now psychically connected to the suit (as evidenced at 0:21 when he calls the glove to his hand). Screen caps reveal a memorial of some kind (0:29), the suit pinning Stark to the ground (1:00), and a massive, curious, stuffed bunny (1:13). It looks as though the suit will represent Stark's inner turmoil, becoming less predictable as he loses emotional control. Whatever the explanations, this trailer raises questions I'm excited to see the answers to. 

Given that all of Iron Man's adventures so far have revolved around fighting external foes, I am glad of the chance to see Robert Downey, Jr. sink his teeth into something other than the usual sexy-sarcastic-swagger routine we've come to know and love so well. It is a fine foundation but by no means interesting if that is all he is. The real stakes for Stark are within. 

Cloud Atlas was released nationwide in theaters today following rounds of praise from critics and festival audiences alike.  The film is being called one of the most ambitious projects ever attempted -- and an independently financed one at that. The score is no exception to the complexity. Composed by Tom Tykwer (co-writer/director along with Lana and Andy Wachowski),  Johnny Klimek, and Reinhold Heil, the main themes were actually written before filming began and played back on set as inspiration. 

The film is based on book of the same name that follows several characters through the span of mankind's existence, exploring how "actions and consequences of our lives impact one another throughout the past, present, and future as one soul is shaped from a murderer into a savior and a single act of kindness ripples out for centuries to inspire a revolution" (as described by the official synopsis). It is a time travel movie; it's a character study; it's about societal norms and breaking convention. Ultimately, "the main character in this movie is humanity" (/Film).

A less-obvious theme in the film is mankind's need for art, and its existence depending somewhat on the ability to communicate through storytelling -- whether books, letters, paintings, songs, or modern media. Ben Whishaw's character is an ambitious composer attempting to write a piece of music with six soloists who combine to create the Cloud Atlas sextet. Tykwer, Klimek, and Reinhold were very careful to craft a central melody which could be adapted in each era spanning 500 years; it serves as the unifying factor for these seemingly disparate story lines. The official website has an interactive feature where you can listen to each individual soloist which then reveals a painting connected to the film. Evocative and insistent, the score is a beautiful guide through the film and 500 years of human emotion. 
 
The score was released digitally on October 23; a 23-track CD set will be available for purchase on November 6. Listen to the entire soundtrack for free, streaming on Spotify.

1. Prelude: The Atlas March
2. Cloud Atlas Opening Title
3. Travel to Edinburgh
4. Luisa’s Birthmark
5. Cavendish In Distress
6. Papa Song
7. Sloosha’s Hollow
8. Sonmi-451 Meets Chang
9. Won’t Let Go
10. Kesselring
11. The Escape
12. Temple Of Sacrifice
13. Catacombs
14. Adieu
15. New Direction
16. All Boundaries Are Conventions
17. The Message
18. Chasing Luisa Rey
19. Sonmi’s Discovery
20. Death Is Only A Door
21. Cloud Atlas Finale
22. The Cloud Atlas Sextet for Orchestra
23. Cloud Atlas End Title

88 MPH is a feature where we'll go back in time to explore films made before the year 2000. It's an arbitrary year, but hey, I like round numbers. If you have any suggestions for a classic, important, and/or forgotten film, leave it in the comments!


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As lush as it is minimalistic, Babette's Feast is a film that feeds the soul. It won the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film, the first Danish one to do so, in 1988, and was based on the short story by Karen Blixen (also the author of Out of Africa).

The film opens in a wild land of muted tones where the ocean is obviously essential to the life of this tiny village. You can nearly smell the salt air and drying fish. The two sisters around whom the story rotates are plainly dressed as they wordlessly deliver soups to elderly souls, themselves not young either. This is duty but not obligation -- it's just the way of things. We learn that the sisters -- Filippa and Martine -- are the daughters of a now-deceased minister whose followers are dwindling in number as the years progress.  They happily manage the flock, though the audience gathers that despite their kind natures, settled beneath themselves in this sparse place. They are products of their culture -- reserved as only the Scandinavians can be -- and deeply pious. This is not a place for excess.

It is curious then, when Babette (Stéphane Audran), a French expatriate who is more refined than the town calls for, comes on screen, serving tea to the sisters and their father's congregation. What use does a modest fishing  town on the coast of Jutland have for a maidservant? "It can only be explained," says the narrator, "through the hidden regions of the heart." For the next 25 minutes we leave Babette in the present to travel back 49 years. 

Each sister, in her youth and beauty, was courted by a suitor -- Martine by a misguided though sweet Swedish officer, and Filippa by a sincere, boisterous opera singer. In heartbreaking fashion, each man is turned away by the girls out of duty to their father and perhaps out of fear. These decisions are foundational to the emotional arc of the story: they demonstrate how committed the sisters are to their faith and their little community, even when faced with fame (Filippa, who has an angelic singing voice) or family (Martine, with whom the officer wished for a simpler life). Years later, Babette is sent to the sisters by the opera singer to escape the French Revolution; he recommends her as a housekeeper and cook. Of course the sisters oblige, and Babette lives with them for the next 14 years.

It is a joy to watch Babette begin her time in the community as a silent observer, mouthing foreign words and learning bland recipes or currency exchange while she adapts to the modest customs of the Danish. Displaying wit, charm, and ingenuity, she wins over the townsfolk and holds her own among the local businessmen; she also saves the sisters money with her frugal methods. 

Babette's one connection to her old life is a lottery ticket that someone renews for her annually. Martine and Filippa are shocked to learn, after many years, that she has won -- 10,000 francs. She plans to return to Paris. Babette's announcement coincides with the long-awaited 100th birthday of the minister which the sisters wish to celebrate with a "modest supper, followed by a cup of coffee." Babette asks to be allowed to prepare the dinner instead, a "real French meal," as a token of her thanks. The sisters agree despite discomfort at the idea of such fineries (not entirely sure it doesn't constitute devilry), especially in celebration of their father; they call together the congregation and solemnly promise together to eat the meal out of respect for Babette, but to neither enjoy nor speak of it. 

The last act of the film is full of unabashed, sumptuous shots of Babette escorting crates of food (much to the town's disruption), preparing it, and serving the meal in high style. Of course, the guests have no concept of their good fortune; and in one of the most restrained jokes committed to film, the entire table of diners fights to maintain stoic displeasure while they consume the best meal of their lives.  Babette is skilled in the kitchen, and the audience sees her take command as if directing a symphony.

Though outwardly modest, this film is more emotionally genuine than most dramas. The climax is touching, and the entire story manages to depict each culture and person -- no matter how strange in relation to one another -- with respect. In the hands of a lesser director, the story would have been saccharine and heavy-handed. Instead, it communicates the best of what people can offer, even when they are individually flawed. 

E.T. the Extra Terrestrial celebrated its 30th anniversary this year, an event that came with the usual fanfare: a Blu-ray re-release (without the controversial 2002 shotgun removals and computer animation), interviews, and behind the scenes footage. In this video, Henry Thomas (who played Elliott) had finished his not-so-great audition when director Steven Spielberg asked him to improvise a scene. Having nothing to lose, he went for broke. According to a 1991 TV Guide interview, he summoned tears by thinking of the family's deceased dog. The result is nothing short of magical. 

About the improvisation, Spielberg said: "[It] was so heartfelt and honest that I gave him the part right there... I was blown away by this nine-year-old. Then I came to realize he’s an adult actor, not a nine-year-old. He’s a very controlled, methodical performer who measures what he does and feels what he does and yet broadcasts it in a totally subtle way. His performance is so controlled, unlike most kid performers, who seem to be giving you 150 percent on every shot. Henry’s performance is just a bread crumb at a time, but he takes you in a wonderful direction to a very, very rousing catharsis. He’s just a 'once in a lifetime' kid."

Thomas later recalled that his tears during the finale were real: "I couldn’t stop crying because I worked with E.T. every day and he was real to me." The scene obviously resonated with audiences since it is still talked about today and often regarded as one of the most powerful movie finales of all time. 

Watch as Henry Thomas nails it and, Spielberg says, "OK, kid, you got the job," . 

You need to know about Nicolas Winding Refn.  

A Danish director who comes from a cinema family (his parents are a cinematographer and director/editor, respectively), he has a distinctly unique perspective on the inner workings of Hollywood.  He doesn't do things traditionally on his sets: he prefers to shoot in "emotional chronological order," hugs his actors when they're trying too hard to be original, and likes driving around L.A. at night for inspiration.  He can be credited with giving Tom Hardy his start as Charles Bronson in Bronson and was awarded Best Director at the 2011 Cannes Film Festival for Drive.  He and Ryan Gosling have the sort of working relationship that can most aptly be described as a marriage -- and they're pairing up again for next year's Only God Forgives. 

Winding Refn credits The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) as the thing that first inspired him to make films. "My parents were brought up on the French New Wave. That was god to them, but to me it was the antichrist, and how better to rebel against your parents than by watching something your mother is going to hate, which were American horror movies" (Director's Guild of America). All of his films bear a gritty realism that reflects his blunt speaking style; there is something purely European about his phrasing, that he doesn't shy away from potential offense to make a point. And yet, he is never crass -- simply truthful. The Danish film Pusher (1996, about a drug dealer who grows increasingly desperate to repay his boss when a deal goes south) was Winding Refn's debut; it began as a short film made after dropping out of film school but a producer approached him about turning it into a feature. It holds strong on Rotten Tomatoes with a respectable 81%, and its sequels were rated even higher. Pusher established Winding Refn's style as gritty, unvarnished, and heavily influenced by his dual upbringing in Copenhagen and New York. 

Bronson came to him through his U.K. distributor. It is a pseudo-biographical film about Michael Peterson, better known as Charles Bronson, England's most notorious prisoner. Winding Refn had honed his directing skills after Pusher with two sequels, Fear X and Bleeder, all especially adequate preparation for the character study given their violent and psychological themes. Together with Tom Hardy he created a theatrical, manic picture of a man who is both notorious and non-existent. "I wanted to make the film very operatic and very feminine, because it’s also very much about the concept of art and art is a feminine medium... The painting of the face is more like he’s a circus entertainer, like an old-fashioned personality that doesn’t exist anymore. And yet there is no face – he’s an invisible person, because Charlie Bronson is a made up person, he doesn’t exist" (Filmmaker).

Bronson is the identity Peterson assumed after years in prison, wanting to give himself over to the spectacle of it all -- wanting to be famous. Winding Refn has spoken about similar tendencies he struggled with as a child and young filmmaker: impatience, and wanting to have the finished product before earning it. It was partially because of this that he began shooting films in chronological order, preferring to let the film surprise and develop organically. "When you make a movie you make two movies. You make a physical movie, which is a physical journey, and you make the physical movie with the script.... But shooting it in chronological order, you add a metaphysical part, where the movie takes on a life of its own." 

Shooting in this manner gives his films a palpably authentic feeling that is so often missing in Hollywood. Drive benefitted not only from being shot 80% chronologically (since the more expensive set pieces had to be done in one go) but also from his need to "make films for himself." Gosling requested that Winding Refn direct it so the director pulled it from Universal's shelf to retool the story.  Drive as it was originally drafted starred Hugh Jackman and lacked the driver-as-stuntman component, a book-inspired addition that would prove virtually impossible to remove from Winding Refn's interpretation without degrading the story. In the way that Bronson explored femininity, Drive explored masculinity in all of its bloody, muscle car-bound stereotypes. Though based on the book by James Sallis which has a sequel, Driven, Winding Refn has no plans to direct the next chapter of The Driver's story.

Gosling and Winding Refn continue their productive partnership with Only God Forgives, now in post-production and slated for an April 2013 release in Denmark (U.S. dates are so far unavailable). The pair have also begun scripting a remake to Logan's Run that won't surface until 2014 at the earliest. If these projects reflect the sensibilities of his earlier work, Nicolas Winding Refn will soon become a household name and one of the more influential filmmakers of the 21st century. 

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Pusher III, Bronson, Valhalla Rising & Drive are all available to view on Netflix Streaming.

Check out the interview with Nicolas Winding Refn and Ryan Gosling from the 2011 Cannes Film Festival below, courtesy of The Film Stage (founded by Messiah College alum Jordan Raup). Heads up for some profanity. 

A good trailer is a piece of art. It should inform, excite, and entice without giving away too much of the story, while demonstrating unique ideas so the film it represents stands apart from dozens of others in a given week. You know it when you see it.

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ZERO DARK THIRTY
Directed by Kathryn Bigelow
Release date: December 19th

This second trailer for Zero Dark Thirty (Kathryn Bigelow's much-buzzed-about follow up to 2008's Best Picture winner The Hurt Locker) grabs me. I was underwhelmed by the first trailer which had a lot of cliche elements (resounding bass notes a la Inception that everyone has been using to excess dramatic effect,  generic-looking explosions, overusing the "blacked out words" gimmick, and tension based in a concept a lot of America has moved on from), but this trailer succeeds by addressing the audience directly and never letting go ("Can I be honest with you? I have bad news...") The stakes become high for the viewer personally. When the voiceover asks, "Any questions?" my response is, "Yes. Lots." For example, what in the world does "zero dark thirty" mean?

And then it gives some answers. Kyle Chandler is looking good in a suit and scowl. Jessica Chastain is a long way from Jackson, Mississippi in her office analyzing what looks to be endless, frustrating footage. And look, Andy from "Parks and Recreation" is playing horseshoes and talking about Osama bin Laden like a kid swapping ghost stories around the campfire. Remember the days when the world first heard his name -- "Osama bin Laden" -- and suddenly he was everywhere? And yet, he was nowhere. Even knowing the ending to this story doesn't make me less excited to see the outcome because we know so little about how it happend. Will this be an historical account of events? Perhaps more than most. It was scripted before bin Laden was killed and the ending reworked when the mission was successful. The name of the film itself (zero one thirty meaning 1:30AM; therefore zero dark thirty meaning a dark hour in the early morning) speaks to the fact that this mission was and still is shrouded in secrecy. How much will be filled in with artistic liberties? How much can be based on fact, since it deals with top-secret information? One of my concerns for the film is that it will be heavy handed with patriotism, painting America to be all-the-world's hero. The film will also be released just after the presidential election, leaving us to speculate about whether its advertising might handily remind the populace of President Obama's not-long-ago victory. However, Obama's name reportedly makes no appearance in the film.

Regardless of political ramifications, the film itself looks tightly crafted with more relatable characters than The Hurt Locker, and if I know anything about film, it's that the Academy loves to celebrate fictionalized American heroism. Look for this (and Jessica Chastain) to dominate during awards season. Meanwhile, I'll be seeing it theaters based on the strength of this trailer alone.

NEXT WEEK: Iron Man 3

"There's the television. It's all right there - all right there. Look, listen, kneel, pray. Commercials! We're not productive anymore. We don't make things anymore. It's all automated. What are we for then? We're consumers, Jim."  (Jeffrey Goines, 12 Monkeys)

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During a screening of The Hunger Games two weekends ago, a clearly agitated guest walked out of Parmer Cinema. I could hear from the hallway that the film was at the point where the bloodbath at the cornucopia reached its frenzied climax and the Games began in earnest. "That's not my idea of entertainment," she said. "It's terrible."

I was caught off guard because the film had been out long enough that I didn't think the content would be a surprise to anyone. I also have to admit I took it somewhat personally, being the person who chooses the films and hopes that they'll be generally accepted and well attended. I never want anyone to hate a film I spend a great deal of time (sometimes months) wondering over. On the other hand, I was glad; once I un-bristled, the response that came to mind was, "Well, good, because I never want these films to be just entertainment."

And that is the mission of Lost Films.

A lot of thought goes into what ends up printed on a schedule or announced on Facebook each semester. Research, deliberation, weighing, adding, removing, adding again. The final product is a labor of love specifically designed to offer an experience of which the film is just a small part. SAB's mission statement contains four criteria that are applied while deciding who or what to introduce to Messiah College’s campus: artistic merit, cultural relevance, truth communicated, and appropriateness. Obviously, each component cannot be contained equally within every film, band, or artist we bring, but we do strive for balance. Sometimes one area weighs heavily enough that it balances out the lack of another.

With The Hunger Games, for example, the truth communicated and cultural relevance within the film (as well as the books) caused me to include it in our lineup despite potentially offensive content. I was willing to risk offense for the hope that people would not merely be entertained by the film but also engage with it. It was incredibly appropriate that the woman's response was revulsion at teenagers killing one another for "sport" since the film itself is a commentary on society's tendency to celebrate the profane. Author Suzanne Collins constructed a world where it is not inconceivable that adults should become immune to such horrors. If we watched The Hunger Games and were not appalled by it on some level, wouldn’t we be just as guilty as citizens of the Capitol in all their excess and finery? Isn't this happening on some level today while entire nations ignore atrocities like human trafficking (the end product being pleasure) or child labor (the end product being cheap clothing for the rest of us)? Though the Colosseum is a ruin and gladiators historical footnotes, humanity is not far removed from that particular brand of brutality.

Whether or not you are a fan of The Hunger Games, the truth it communicates about human nature is more relevant than ever. It is intentionally provocative for purposes of reflection. It is possible, however, to react to the wrong things or focus too much on singular elements out of context, missing the point entirely. The challenge, then, is to not merely be entertained; in fact, I wish that everyone would refuse passive entertainment absolutely. I implore you instead to be moved, to think, to ask what the director/writer/singer/actor meant when they placed their product in front of you and said, "Consume this." Do not trust blindly; do not reject on principle.

Why is it important to avoid these pitfalls? Because people are fatally flawed. We are often panicky, selfish, pleasure seeking, and proud. We abuse one another to ensure our own comfort; those in power get carried away; we naturally take the path of least resistance. History has shown that left to our own devices people will make poor judgments. When we're deliberately cruel, we often redefine the word; when we're well meaning, wrongdoing still is perpetrated. "Those who fail to learn from history are condemned to repeat it." This is not a threat as much as it is fact – one from which every generation is confident they are immune but prove ultimately to be scarcely different from the rest.

The cure for this insanity is neither willful ignorance nor careful apathy but intentional, measured participation by people who refuse to be passively entertained. By watching or reading something like The Hunger Games (or Harry Potter, Fringe, Looper, Blade Runner, To Kill a Mockingbird, etc.) and allowing yourself to be moved by it, you open yourself up to growth. There is no stronger catalyst for change than an uncomfortable idea that forces you to justify its existence. Only then can a person expect to relate to anyone different from himself or herself.

I later learned that the woman who walked out has a teenage son. He stayed in the theater with his dad for the remainder of the film and the three of them spoke animatedly afterwards about what I imagine to be a difference of opinion regarding appropriate family time. I was struck with the thought that she probably imagined her son in such a harrowing scenario – him having to kill peers in a do-or-die situation. Admittedly, not a pleasant thought for any parent. It added another dimension to her dismissal of the film: that even poignant cultural commentary couldn't override raw emotion. Experience can be a powerful simplifier. Her judgment of the film might have been an extreme one, but it was based in personal experience that, despite any number of valuable or “correct” messages, caused it not to be worth her time; and caused me to reevaluate an aspect of culture I hadn’t considered.

Be a thinker rather than a consumer. Do not settle for mere entertainment. 

I've never seen this film. Part of the reason is because I love the score so much that I fear the film can't live up to it. Having been through 34 cuts and 5 test screenings before debuting at Sundance, I can't imagine that the finished product isn't effective. For me, however, it's perfect study and writing music as-is: beautiful, non-intrusive, and folksy while conveying the mournfulness of having gone through an ordeal but knowing the world will continue on the other side of it.

Together with bandmate Warren Ellis (the two have performed with Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds since 1984), Cave has constructed a dreamy Western world that is both familiar (with hints of banjo, piano, and strains of Ennio Morricone) and innovative (providing familiar melodies throughout with pulsating moments of tension usually found in straight dramas). The mood is intimate which reflects the on-screen struggle between the two title characters. Doleful violins (Ellis' contribution) coax longing from the listener while piano (Cave) reassures of present reality. 

The opening track, "Rather Lovely Thing," introduces the progression that will become familiar and tether the narrative; "Cowgirl" and "Carnival" are pokey, saloon-inspired raw versions of a lullaby or waltz; "The Money Train" quickly pulls the listener back to the action where stakes are suddenly high and continues through "What Happens Next." A respite is granted in "Destined For Great Things" and we arrive at a satisfying reprise of the main theme in "Song For Bob." This sophomore effort is the strongest collaboration from the pair thus far.

"Music From the Motion Picture The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford" by Nick Cave & Warren Ellis is available for free streaming on Spotify. 

Track Listing
01. Rather Lovely Thing (3:13)
02. Moving On (2:32)
03. Song For Jesse (2:35)
04. Falling (2:54)
05. Cowgirl (4:05)
06. The Money Train (2:38)
07. What Must Be Done (1:57)
08. Another Rather Lovely Thing (3:28)
09. Carnival (2:52)
10. Last Ride Back To KC (5:24)
11. What Happens Next (2:08)
12. Destined For Great Things (2:26)
13. Counting The Stars (1:19)
14. Song For Bob (6:03)

88 MPH is a feature where we'll go back in time to explore films made before the year 2000. It's an arbitrary year, but hey, I like round numbers. If you have any suggestions for a classic, important, and/or forgotten film, leave it in the comments!

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12 Monkeys is one of the best movies about time travel ever made, so it is appropriate that we should start this column by highlighting it. Inspired by the framework of French science fiction film La Jetée, Terry Gilliam (Monty Python & the Holy Grail, Brazil) brings his signature brand of fantasy and dry humor that serve as a potent commentary on society's often arbitrary nature. It features Bruce Willis in one of his most nuanced roles: a survivor named James Cole, haunted and vulnerable to the point that the actor is completely absorbed by the character throughout. Madeleine Stowe plays psychiatrist Dr. Kathryn Railly who first (understandably) diagnoses him as a paranoid schizophrenic in the year 1990, but gradually sees the sincerity behind his actions when she can't rationalize things Cole shouldn't know after he returns in the year 1996. Her descent into his reality is the audience's descent -- and we are all finding either clarity or "divergence," as it is described so brilliantly in one scene. Cole is sent back in time from 2035 to find clues to incriminate revolutionary group The Army of the 12 Monkeys regarding an act of biological warfare that kills 5 billion people at the end of 1996 and drives the remainder of the human race underground.

Gilliam keeps the audience in suspense through his use of heightened reality -- things that are slightly "off" and could conceivably be explained away with Cole's delusion. Why are the scientists in 2035 so cartoonish, for example? They act almost as one being, finishing one another's sentences and speaking as if to soothe an animal's frayed nerves. Contrasted with the more understanding panel of psychiatrists in "present day," they seem more and more like a phantom designed to tell Cole what his psyche wants to hear. But then, this is deliberate. Gilliam makes excellent use of a world driven underground where everyone is caged, numbered, and prodded, suitable for use in experiments they neither want nor understand. There are deliberate allusions to Cole and the rest of the survivors being like caged monkeys, bound physically by force or to convention by choice. The audience likewise feels caged and as unsure as Cole. 

Enter Brad Pitt as the charismatic Jeffrey Goines. Cole meets Goines when he is first committed to the mental institution in 1990 (a time he was never meant to inhabit in the first place). Goines is crazy with a capital C yet makes sense in the substance of his rants about humanity being enslaved to materialism. "We're all consumers!" he crows at one point (echoing the famous line later spoken by Tyler Durden in Fight Club); "If you play the game you're voluntarily taking a tranquilizer." In the scene, he's referring to literal board games, but Gilliam means it as motivation for Goines' actions -- the world is falling to pieces yet people are tranquilized by convention. "'Let's go shopping' is the cry of the true lunatic." 

The film asks questions of inevitability. Can Cole go back and change the past to better the future, or will his going back be the thing that creates the chaos? Does Goines' effort to break convention actually bring about the things he warns of? In this sense, both characters suffer from the "Cassandra Complex:" the agony of foreknowledge combined with the impotence to do anything about it; in this case, however, Cole is less convinced he can succeed, whereas Goines is brazenly confident. And both men end up caught in a loop that never ends. 

Perhaps the most telling scene of the film is where Cole comments on a viewing of Hitchcock's masterful Vertigo (where a local art house theater is running a "24-hour Hitchcock Fest"). He watches and notices it parallels his and Dr. Railly's situation, then muses aloud, "The movie never changes -- it can't change -- but every time you see it, it seems different because you're different." The viewer is left to wonder whether a man can change his fate, or whether he can only change himself within it; and if these two things are, in fact, one in the same.

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Below: Watch La Jetée (The Jetty or The Pier in English), the 26 minute short film by Chris Marker that inspired 12 Monkeys.