The mere thought of death is enough to scare anyone, let alone us here in the States. Those that aren’t haunted in some way of our final breaths are desensitized or brainwashed; you can shrug your shoulders all you like, but we’re always at the graceful whim of the reaper. But what if you could elude Death, for however short of a time, by challenging him to something as simple as a game of chess?

The Crusades have left noble knight Antonius Block (Max von Sydow) weary and disillusioned. With his squire Jöns (Gunnar Björnstrand), Antonious begins the long pilgrimage back to his homeland. But all is not well, as it becomes apparent when Death (Bengt Ekerot) arrives to tell Antonious that his time has come. Suspecting the end was nigh anyway, Antonius proposes a chess game to keep Death at bay for the time being. Knowing the angel of darkness can only come back in between jobs, the knight bides his time in hopes of settling his affairs before retiring for his eternal slumber.

Ingmar Bergman’s The Seventh Seal is a classic for a reason. The film depicts the desperate struggle of clinging to life even when life itself seems abandoned. The sets are bleak, characters perish due to famine, and the end of days most definitely feels imminent. Witches are lynched and bodies burned as the word of God’s plague continues spreading. Between the ravages of disease and religious oppression so vividly painted, one wonders why Antonius wouldn’t want to instantly embrace Death.

Characters are what make The Seventh Seal as riveting as it is. It’s no secret that Bergman’s films are seldom joyous, though he makes an effort to lighten this story’s dour atmosphere. Though The Seventh Seal personifies gloom, the addition of the clown Jof (Nils Poppe) brings some much-desired color into frame. Jof’s visions supply his decaying world with a mixture of hope and spiritual essence, while his wife Mia (Bibi Andersson) keeps his optimism close to earth. Meanwhile, Jöns’ cynicism is pulverizing to a fault, as his master Antonius struggles to maintain contentment in any form. Tossing all of these characters into the same medieval bakery results in a tapestry as mesmerizing to view as it is depressing. Individuals may be hopeful, but as Bergman likes to remind us, the world is cruel.

The story keeps perfect pace with the characters. The Seventh Seal centers most famously on the staving-off of death, but it also involves issues of faith, true chivalry, the moral ambiguity of the Crusades, and so on. The film is rich, emotional, and fascinating, the work of a genius willing to share with the viewing public what can only be described as philosophical torment. The emotions within drive the story, as well as the story drives the emotions to an odd and fleeting conclusion.

Waste no more time if you haven’t had the privilege of witnessing The Seventh Seal. Its world is dreary and characters burned-out, but it has a lot to offer as far as the soul is concerned. This is the nonpareil of Bergman’s work and an outright cinema masterpiece.

Rating: 4 out of 4 stars

-Chris Luedtke

Check out the trailer for The Seventh Seal here.

Visitor Q has been a long time coming for yours truly. I’ve followed Takashi Miike’s twisted career from his Audition days to his “Masters of Horror” debauchery, proving with each movie that his name is one to watch. But Miike goes above and beyond in providing fans with the finest in WTF? with Visitor Q. Stepping onto this film’s grounds is to abandon normality and embrace the monsters within its walls.

Family man and failed newscaster Kiyoshi Yamazaki (Ken’ichi Endo) is pinning his future on reality TV. But during his search for the next big media sensation, Kiyoshi meets a visitor (Kazushi Watanabe) who introduces himself by cracking Kiyoshi’s skull with a rock. Inspired to expose family dynamics, Kiyoshi sets his sights on his own dysfunctional clan: violent son Takuya (Jun Muto), prostitute daughter Miki (Fujiko), and junkie wife Keiko (Shungiku Uchida), all of whom fall under the visitor’s inquisitive eye.

Miike’s Visitor Q has met with praise and damnation of equal passion. You could say he’s crafted his own Salò, a movie as many people admire as wish it were never made. Like Salò was to its era, though, Visitor Q is very relevant to our time. While both films play off of the presumption that audiences are desensitized to shocking material, Miike directly addresses the media’s role in the matter. As Pasolini’s captives devoured shit, Kiyoshi is shat on by a corpse, effectively playing a rube onto whom the entertainment industry feels comfy dumping anything and everything. Visitor Q is littered with statements like these, making an absurd mockery of reality television, a cadaver that relieves itself on us in our very own homes.

What scares me most is that Visitor Q, like Eraserhead or even other Miike movies, will make that list of films people watch just because they’re messed up. Miike is an artist, and Visitor Q has much to say. We appreciate his attack on reality TV and the “arts” in general because of how well-rounded it is. Kiyoshi sees himself as innovative for using his family’s severe dysfunction to create what he views as the raw, ugly truth, but making money and being trendy are his main motivations (y’know, like an even more perverted Michael Bay).

The rest of the family spends their time dutifully going through their own unspeakable routines. The wife shoots up, the daughter whores herself out (even to Kiyoshi), the son literally whips his mother — and as strange as it sounds, the visitor brings out even more horrible traits once he walks in. To divulge any info would spoil the film, though those with enough bravery/stupidity can explore for themselves.

Visitor Q’s biggest flaw is that the shock value tends to run a little thick. Miike takes on reality TV to such an out-there level that Kiyoshi’s idea of programming could never exist even in this realm. Every scene feels like it needs to top the previous one, resulting in a numbing effect and the desire to accept every strange sight just to keep pushing the story forward. It’s not a bad film, but it is bogged down by a need to constantly outdo itself.

You can say Visitor Q is a satiric masterwork, and you can dismiss it as inhumane (both of which aren’t altogether false). If your taste and stomach have been prepped for the disgustingly artistic, Visitor Q will never cease to fascinate you.

Rating: 3 out of 4 stars

-Chris Luedtke

Check out the trailer for Visitor Q here.

Read A.J. Hakari’s Visitor Q review here.

Hayao Miyazaki, Japan’s own Walt Disney, is at it again! Traps, tricks, curses, sorcery, copious amounts of imagination — if you’ve ever seen a Miyazaki film, you know to expect these and much more. Miyazaki’s reputation is built on the eye-poppingly odd and cuddly cute, which often come to a head in the very same scene. Spirited Away is widely renown as one of the man’s best, but with all this hype behind it, is the flick really all it’s cracked up to be?

Chihiro (voice of Rumi Hiragi) is in the midst of moving to another city with her parents. Though the big move is against her volition, Chihiro’s folks insist that it’ll be a chance to start life anew and meet new people. But during their journey, one wrong turn down a rough road leads the family to a strange world in which Chihiro’s parents are turned into pigs after feasting on a meal. The little one’s only way of getting them back is by working for the witch Yubaba (voice of Mari Natsuki), though, of course, being in her employee turns out to be far more difficult than first imagined.

If fantasy is your forte, you don’t need to finish reading this review. Just rent Spirited Away, should you be one of the unfortunate to have yet to do so. This has something for everyone, let alone the kiddies. Children can sit back and appreciate Miyazaki’s visual scope at work, while adults will find themselves more interested in the plot than family movies usually allow them to be. It’s easy to see why Spirited Away is considered Miyazaki’s finest feature, as the way viewers are beckoned into its universe is flat-out enchanting.

The story, while fun and serviceable, isn’t airtight. Tearing one’s eyes from the screen for a simple night’s sleep is a chore all its own, though the plot doesn’t make itself too complicated. The bathhouse Chihiro comes to work at has but one concern: making money. The cast of characters that bring said cash in are the real stars of the show; it’s as if an anime runway was put up, and for once, I was enthralled. Some of the creatures are noticeably recycled from other Miyazaki flicks (e.g. No-Face and Princess Mononoke’s forest spirits), but your eyes enjoy the show regardless. Still, once the visual assault is removed from the picture, you notice that much of the conflict is resolved by the all-too-convenient solution scheme. It’s sad that Miyazaki resorts to this when there’s no way out otherwise, but while these moments feel like little cheats, the picture isn’t riddled with too many of them.

Spirited Away is a film that grows up as it goes on. The themes and ideas it puts forth are surprisingly deep, especially the discomfort of being misplaced, as Chihiro feels throughout. Everything evolves into a battle incited by the outsiders. Miyazaki has certainly stirred a beast with this, and I can see why it’s one of his most heralded features. Lest I go against the grain, I don’t think it’s his best, but it’s most certainly a great piece of work from an even more amazing director.

Rating: 3.5 out of 4 stars

-Chris Luedtke

Check out the trailer for Spirited Away here.

Watching film at its weirdest never gets old. You can never prepare yourself for, say, Eraserhead, or any other movie that dares to shake the senses. Paprika has just the strangeness for the job, a work of trippy, experimental art that could only come from Mr. Perfect Blue himself, the great Satoshi Kon.

The DC Mini is a machine like no other. It bestows upon its user the power to walk into and observe another’s dreams. But the device is still incomplete, which spells trouble when it turns up stolen. Soon, its thief begins to entwine the dreams of its creators with the nightmares of disturbed patients. As usual, there’s but one person qualified to crack the case, and that’s Dr. Atsuko Chiba (voice of Megumi Hayashibara), who, as her alter ego Paprika, must stop at nothing to stop the dream thief from further damaging her pet project.

If you don’t have the tongue for the odd stuff, then Paprika won’t sit right in your stomach. The film involves a constant melding of worlds, a theme that Kon has carried on throughout his work. This is a story that requires a perpetual suspension of disbelief; realists taking the grounded approach here will fast find themselves in anime hell. Paprika isn’t really a fantasy story but trades in vivid paranoia and imagination. It’s a flexing of the mental muscle, no matter which realm it happens to inhabit.

If anything, Paprika does fall flat when it comes to characters. Paprika herself, Dr. Chiba’s carefree dream world self, has all the charm of Amelie without the shyness. Chiba, on the other hand, is a stereotypical workaholic hell bent on getting the DC Mini back by any means. Co-workers range from the wise old guy to the childish fat genius, while Detective Toshimi’s job title tells you just about everything you need to know about him. These personalities are all pleasant to watch, but in a way, it has too many to feature and not enough screen time. Still, the villain is pretty cool; Kon is a master of faceless villainy, and Paprika’s antagonist was a treat to watch in action (a la Perfect Blue).

Image is everything in Paprika. Even if you end up hating the film, there’s nothing about its blending of scenery and characters that won’t stick with you. The porcelain dolls in particular were a perfect fit for Kon’s vision of a nightmarishly beautiful dreamscape. A lot of warm colors were used in production, and their overall effect is completely dazzling.

If the experimental is your bag (or if you’re brushing up on your Kon), Paprika is not to be passed up. Hardened realists had best sit this one out, as keeping our minds wide open is the film’s very purpose. Its imagery is as haunting as it is delightful, a spectacle of dreams worthy of picking up where Eraserhead left off.

Rating: 3.5 out of 4 stars

-Chris Luedtke

Check out the trailer for Paprika here.

Read guest critic Whitney Mill’s Paprika review here.

Takashi Miike has been making some of the most weirdly entertaining films of the last decade. Between Ichi the Killer and the overtly taboo Visitor Q, one would think that all the corpse-sodomizing and S&M would have drained his artistic abilities. But 2004’s Izo is yet another staple of Miike’s string of mind-scratching motion pictures. While it carries much of what the man’s fans have come to expect, viewers will find themselves divided into factions of either the satisfied or sorely let down.

Okada Izo (Kazuya Nakayama) was a ruthless swordsman in 1865, thought by many to be more devil than man. His ways were considered inhumane, as he spared not a soul that intended to do him in. Ultimately, the Shogunate had him killed, crucified, and repeatedly speared through the sides — but Izo refuses to fall so easily. His unquenchable thirst for blood and revenge rekindles his spirit, resurrecting the fallen warrior and setting him on a violent path to retribution by cutting through today’s aristocratic a-holes.

Sadly (or happily, depending on your preference), Izo isn’t as simple as it sounds. The film begins with Izo’s execution, getting the blood pumping rather quickly. From here on, Miike hurtles us back and forth through time; we’re in a modern era some moments, and other times, we’re back in the 1800s. Sometimes we’re on earth, and sometimes we’re in a parallel dimension. But what’ll piss off some and please others is that Miike isn’t too keen on telling us exactly where we’ll be taken next. Izo’s spontaneous time trips have viewers rag dolling alongside him, an uncomfortable jerking that one must grow accustomed to in order to make it to the credits. The one consistency is that every setting harbors enemies for Izo to destroy. At its heart, Izo is an action flick, which Miike embraces all the way.

But get used to not knowing Izo’s characters, most of whom don’t stay alive much longer than five minutes. Save for a select few, most we meet are of the “I, *state your name*, am here to kill you!” school. Even the classic girly main villain (assuming he’s a villain) is flatter than a pancake. Those that do live until the end (mainly the bad guy council and an irritating acoustic guitarist) sit around constantly surprised that Izo is so ticked off. The character of Izo is given an interesting edge, but it’s barely worth it, just for a vaguely unique perspective on a guy that screams too much.

Izo is stomach-churning, though not how you’d expect it to be. The blast-off pacing might turn a lot of viewers off, and the constant screaming only adds to the headache once Miike kicks into Blair Witch mode for the action sequences. As interesting as Izo can be, the lack of substance over style and thrills makes it easy to want to give up (though you could argue this is to show Izo’s struggle to figure out what to do beyond killing everyone in sight).

Izo is a tough flick to critique. Those who’ve enjoyed what the likes of Versus had to offer may find some love for this, what with the nonstop action. Those looking for an interesting story will be lost in the Pacific, because beyond what you flat-out see, there’s not much else, boiling Izo down to either art or irritation.

Rating: 2 out of 4 stars

-Chris Luedtke

Check out the Izo trailer here.

While films often feature wolves stalking under the guise of man, those of wit and quality are a bit more difficult to come by. Be it the newest reference-driven comedy schlock or aimless chick flick, flicks are more quick to grab a piece of the wolf theme’s revenue than do something to really set itself apart from the rest. At least Jin-Roh: The Wolf Brigade tries throwing its viewers for a loop, but is it a true beast in anime’s clothing, or is it fodder worthy of Wal-Mart’s $5 Halloween bin?

Director Hiroyuki Okiura and writer Mamoru Oshii guide us through an alternate history, one in which Japan is under the rule of a military force. In this regime, a special unit has been created to help maintain order only when absolutely necessary. As of yet, anti-government terrorists have begun inciting numerous riots and uprisings. The authorities have identified some of these terrorists as “Little Red Riding Hoods,” innocent-looking girls serving as mules for powerful explosives. When Kazuki Fuse (voice of Yoshikazu Fujiki), a member of the aforementioned task force, comes face to face with one of the Hoods, he hesitates to blast her away and pays the price for it. Kazuki, wondering why his trigger finger froze, soon finds himself haunted by the girl’s image and starts to wonder whether he’s more wolf or man.

What stands out most about Jin-Roh is its impressive back story. Oshii did an excellent job creating a believable scenario in which unrest with the government reigns. One could say it just boils down to another “people vs. the power” story, but there’s a lot more to it. The first ten minutes of the film are its most enjoyable, as it wastes no time throwing us into the fray. We dive headfirst into the riots as past events are woven throughout the action. Police and government officials even admit that they’re up against some very organized opponents, making for an intense scenario we pray the story will never move past. Unfortunately, it does, and we’re never as on edge for the rest of the film.

We also don’t receive any real character introductions until ten or fifteen minutes in, when we finally meet our virtually silent protagonist Kazuki. For some, this will be when Jin-Roh begins teetering into less interesting territory, while this is where things will really pick up for others. Like Vampire Hunter D, Kazuki has little to say, unless his commanding officers are giving him a hard time. But he’s not an altogether boring character; his disconnection and alienation from the world are things we can all find some form of empathy with. It’s the degree to which these are taken that becomes a finger-tapping frustration. We want to get to know him, but he grows so far from us that doing so is no small feat.

Jin-Roh is a riff on the “Red Riding Hood” story, if you couldn’t tell by now. While setting this premise in the midst of civil warfare is a good start, its driving philosophy can only be stretched so far. It feels like Kazuki is asked if he’s man or wolf a thousand times throughout the film. As he’s been trained to kill without batting so much as a mocking eyebrow, his confusion is understandable, but the film runs circles with this concept. We even have the story directly narrated to us within the film, lest we viewers cough and, God forbid, miss a detail that’s been drilled into us a dozen times in the last half-hour alone.

There’s as much to complain about here as there is to compliment. Jin-Roh is a decent anime flick that has its fair share of lovers and haters. Once the story comes full circle, you’ll either be in shock or shrugging your shoulders. Jin-Roh is extremely dark, and Kazuki’s melancholy personality helps to keep it that way. It’s a good dramatic film with elements of action, blood, love, and betrayal, but after the first ten minutes, this pitch-black fairy tale is one hell of an uphill battle.

Rating: 2.5 out of 4 stars

-Chris Luedtke

For years, I thought Zatoichi was Japan’s answer to James Bond, if only for the character’s longevity. But some would say that mantle truly belongs to Duke Togo — a.k.a. Golgo 13. Twice as brutal and just as lucky with the ladies, Golgo’s hard-boiled escapades rival even 007’s darkest days. Now I can’t vouch for the source manga, but this man of action’s first animated feature, The Professional, seems to think that coolness can be bought instead of earned. Gunplay and gratuitous screwing alone do not a badass flick make, a notion you realize The Professional will never take to the further you explore it.

Our lead’s name may not ring any bells, but his MO chimes like the dickens. Golgo (voice of Tetsuro Sagawa) is a model assassin, a soft-spoken killer with a spiffy custom rifle and a gift for sniping. As our story begins, Golgo is hired to bump off the son of an oil tycoon (voice of Goro Naya), a gig that goes off smoothly enough. But when he heads to Sicily for his next assignment, Golgo doesn’t count on one pissed off papa gunning for him. Mr. Oilman proceeds to summon every government goon and underworld thug at his disposal, calling upon all manner of hitmen to do in the numbered one. But for a fellow as detached as Golgo, killing comes easy, and there’s no gang of flunkies tough enough to prevent him from plying his trade.

If The Professional: Golgo 13 had an objective in mind, I’d sure like to know what it was. You’d think it might be a stylized riff on the hitman genre, but with a Dick Tracian rogues gallery and women who drop trou for Golgo on a dime, I’m not convinced this wasn’t just a really committed parody. In any case, The Professional is no Le Samouraï, and Golgo sure as hell ain’t no Jef Costello. Film killers are usually the strong and silent sort, but you glean absolutely no insight into this guy. Golgo is a blank slate, as aloof as Bogart’s Sam Spade but with none of the wit. His only use is as a moving target, designated the hero by virtue of being on the cover art. I may be missing something by never having read Golgo’s manga (and only briefly playing one of his NES titles), but like D the vampire hunter, he’s as feeble as antiheroes get.

But it only makes sense that Golgo is such a wet sandwich, considering his star vehicle is equally hollow. The Professional talks a big game but never plays for keeps, serving style by the scoop but to no discernable end. Granted, it’s a very distinct style and worthy of the insanely gritty crime flick it could/should be. But every time we see Golgo running down a bullet or evading law’s long arm, it feels like we’re being distracted from how little time the movie’s mind is spent made up. With not as much of it as you’d expect playing up the revenge angle, the story just sort of follows Golgo from job to job, though it’s during such scenes that the flick displays some competence. If The Professional gets anything right, it’s the action; the sniping scenes are sweet enough to get our spirits up, if only for a few moments.

Reservations aside, I’m sure that Golgo fans know what they’re talking about. Had I seen The Professional as a lad thirsty for thrills, whatever was needed to have me demanding my own Duke Togo Thermos just might’ve clicked. But save for a few fleeting instances of bombastic bliss, The Professional slights the viewer on even more substance than the action genre usually does.

Rating: 1.5 out of 4 stars

-A.J. Hakari

Read more of A.J.’s reviews at ReelTalk Movie Reviews, Classic Movie Guide, and Terror Tube.

Check out the The Professional: Golgo 13 trailer here.

Every genre has its face. Hitchcock is synonymous with suspense, Chaplin with comedy, and so on. At the moment, Hayao Miyazaki’s visage represents the world of anime, which is a plus and a minus. The man’s fantasies have given anime more exposure than ever, but that also means misguided viewers assuming Japan is only good for feline transportation and sentient scarecrows. Luckily, we have Miyazaki-san’s feature debut, The Castle of Cagliostro, to show that he wasn’t always trying to out-funky Guillermo del Toro. There’s no message or trademark reverence to nature here, just a heist flick as free-spirited as its protagonist.

If James Bond made crime his craft, he’d probably turn out like Lupin the Third (voice of Yasuo Yamada). The descendant of a legendary thief, Lupin robs from the rich and gives to himself, content to live from score to score. Intrigue is what he craves, and intrigue is what he gets after emptying a casino of what turns out to be a small fortune in counterfeit bills. Lupin tracks the operation to Cagliostro, an independent nation in which a dubious count (voice of Taro Ishida) plots to wed an heiress (voice of Sumi Shimamoto) against her wishes. Lupin can’t resist the challenge, but before he can get the girl, he has to bust into the count’s dreaded abode, a castle fortified enough to make Fort Knox look like a broom closet.

Don’t take The Castle of Cagliostro’s departure from Miyazaki’s usual style to mean that it’s in no mood for fun. It’s a very playful production, if not the most romp-worthy chapter of his career. He’s just trading in one fantasy for another, this one being the jet-setting life of a world-class cat burglar. But although Lupin’s a thief, he’s of the Danny Ocean school, pulling off jobs for the sake of seeing if he can get away with them. There’s not an ounce of malice to the guy, which makes it feel better wanting to be Lupin as he careens across rooftops and scales castle keeps. Plus, those he steals from usually deserve it, especially the count here. A villain with a mustache that must have taken some restraint to not twirl, the count is equal parts blowhard and bad mamma-jamma, a threat but not so scary as to quash Lupin’s giddiness.

The Castle of Cagliostro always has a little toe dipped in lunacy, never totally out of this world but silly in the right spots. The animation isn’t Miyazaki’s most intricate, but it suits the film fine and looks amazingly well-preserved for something that recently hit 30. Only synthesized chunks of soundtrack give away its true age, but the jazzier portions quickly wipe your memory. The voice work is roundly solid, with Yamada due particular props for a charismatic cad you never want to sock in the jaw. But lest they be well-acquainted with the Lupin universe, the supporting players will be of little relevance to viewers. Such archetypes like Inspector Zenigata (voice of Goro Naya) are a breeze to figure out, but ready yourself for confusion when samurai warriors and gun-toting commando gals put in abrupt appearances.

Though it predates The Black Cauldron and The Great Mouse Detective, The Castle of Cagliostro is as good as those or any other cartoon that dared to grow up. Ostensibly for the youngsters, there’s nothing about it that won’t impress grown-ups, who may appreciate it even more. Miyazaki’s living is made on ensuring no fan feels excluded, and The Castle of Cagliostro’s breezy charms are no different.

Rating: 3 out of 4 stars

-A.J. Hakari

Read more of A.J.’s reviews at ReelTalk Movie Reviews, Classic Movie Guide, and Terror Tube.

Check out the The Castle of Cagliostro trailer here.

I’ve grown weary of films carrying the dreaded “action” stamp. The genre, whether animated or flesh-and-blood, tends to come with a voice that whispers, “Don’t worry! We’ll get by on destroying stuff!” What should get my pulse pounding or adrenaline flowing usually results in a yawn that makes mountains crumble. But Sword of the Stranger doesn’t rely on its ability to devastate so much as its style, and for its efforts, I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

Kotaro (voice of Yuki Chinen, whose character looks like a bastardized Lain from Serial Experiments: Lain) is on the run from the Chinese. He doesn’t know why, but the emperor wants him, and his little dog Tobimaru too. While seeking refuge in an abandoned temple, he meets a man with no name (voiced by Tomoya Nagase) only referred to as Nanashi (English for “no name”). A vicious attack leaves Tobimaru wounded and Kotaro offering his new acquaintance a reward for saving the pooch and serving as his bodyguard. Nanashi agrees, but after meeting Lou-Lang (Koichi Yamadera), a warrior in search of an equal, he soon realizes he’s on an adventure he may not make it through.

If you’re versed in the many ways of anime, you might notice that Sword of the Stranger has a different approach than most of its associates nowadays. With heavy series hitter Bleach making it a bloody ritual to perform one-up ultimate attacks and still only show motionless sword swings, we see this one embrace a more fluid form of combat. The first thing I noticed upon Lou-Lang’s introduction is that each character has their own style. They actually move whilst fighting, as opposed to cutting from character stills to their opponents striking defeated poses. Sword of the Stranger steps up a notch not only through carefully choreographed swordplay but also by making the cronies a little hard to take down. If anything about this film grabs you, it’ll be the action, which is well worth the price of admission.

However, Sword of the Stranger does short us on an interesting story. There’s a general “we’re good, they’re bad, we kill bad” mentality here, a machine the characters oil well enough so that we’re never really surprised with each new plot twist. Characters butt heads constantly, and though we almost get the feel that everyone has their own agenda, nothing daring comes to light. Still, these setbacks don’t bog down the overall film. Nanashi and Kotaro’s perpetual bickering strangely brought to mind Night of the Living Dead and its characters’ inability to get the hell along (although, sadly, there’s no raising of the dead here).

Oftentimes, Sword of the Stranger recalls the ruthless, raw, and unforgiving styles of Ninja Scroll and Samurai X: Trust & Betrayal. The animation is just as striking, although the story and character connections aren’t as deep, especially compared to the latter. But the character models do look like they were swiped from other impressionable anime, with Nanashi resembling Manji from Blade of the Immortal and Kotaro, again, looking a lot like Lain. Lou-Lang is your basic cocky blonde westerner stereotype, and the oldsters are your typical ragged bunch.

There isn’t much in terms of original character design or plot, but know that Sword of the Stranger is still a cut above most animated samurai flicks. It’s a badass film from start to finish, with a merciless style that makes it a treat to watch. A bloody good time awaits those who slide this into their players.

Rating: 3.5 out of 4 stars

-Chris Luedtke

Check out the Sword of the Stranger trailer here.

Like reality television, the fashion industry is something I’ve managed to avoid my entire life. The idea of someone spiffing themselves up because a small collection of superfluous individuals say it’s cool is preposterous. Coco Before Chanel documents the life of fashion design’s arguably biggest name but with a twist maybe only her devoted fans can completely appreciate. Still, those ignorant to her life can enjoy its aesthetic quality like any other work of fiction.

Audrey Tautou is Gabrielle “Coco” Chanel, who starts as an orphan girl with aspirations for the big time. Coco works at a cabaret, singing tunes for rowdy customers she sometimes gets nasty with on the side. After getting fired, she tries to find work elsewhere but ends up being taken in by the wealthy Etienne Balsan (Benoit Poelvoorde), whom she had a one-night stand with. But soon Coco meets Arthur “Boy” Capel (Alessandro Nivola), who notices that she has a talent for design — and the rest, as the cliché goes, is history.

If you weren’t aware, Coco Chanel was one of the biggest fashion designers ever. However, what you must realize before delving into director Anne Fontaine’s biographical journey is that she really does focus more on the “before” aspect. If you’re looking for a creative nonfiction piece on Chanel’s business dealings, you won’t get much here. For better or worse, we’re tossed right into Chanel’s love life, or lack thereof.

Our story isn’t anything the general public isn’t familiar with. As the film centers on a pre-fame Coco, we witness her yearning to rise above the mundane lower class and ascend to ultimate stardom. Love becomes both a release and harbinger for Coco, as we see her go through the motions on a trial and error basis. Maybe the results will hold some surprise for you, but if you know her history in the slightest, the finale will be about as surprising as finding out Anakin Skywalker turns into Darth Vader.

Coco Before Chanel isn’t shabby by any means. The characters are fun to play with, and all that happens just about makes perfect sense. Because it’s a biographical piece, the turn of events feels more plausible. We get hints of Coco’s sewing prowess, and her criticism of the era’s fashion show her as a real forward thinker. If the film were to do away with these pieces, it’d be a generic romantic drama with little sense of invention. Coco’s destined career acts as a crutch to propel us through the story. This may sound like a flaw, but it’s necessary and highlights Coco’s determination to succeed. Still, you do wonder if Coco just caught the luckiest of all breaks, being at the right places at all the right times and utilizing the right abilities to make the right friends. Fate must have had an eye for Coco, but this is just speculation, and I admit that I know virtually nothing about her than what’s shown here.

The performances here are top tier. Tautou does another great job at playing a lovably bitchy character. We come to admire her drive and actually hope she gets everything she’s hoping for. Meanwhile, Poelvoorde is the yin to Coco’s yang; he plays both villain and savior, as sketchy of a character as he is melancholy. Nivola’s role is another that we love and hate, stepping in whenever Poelvoorde’s comes up short.

Overall, Coco Before Chanel is a colorful film with gorgeous costumes, a beautifully-conceived ending, and a story that works but could still use a little tweaking. Don’t expect to watch Coco rise to power here, but do expect her to see her fall in and out of love while honing her craft on the sly. This is a solid movie, though unless you’re a Chanel disciple, there’s no real reason to rush out and rent it.

Rating: 3 out of 4 stars

-Chris Luedtke

Check out the Coco Before Chanel trailer here.