Playlist: Paranormal Activity

I was fortunate to see The Blair Witch Project before it blew up. At the time I was really into following the film scene (shocking, right?) and had read all about how this no-budget faux doc had taken Sundance by storm. I even made a trip into the famed Angelika Film Center in NYC as soon as it was released. And wasn't disappointed. The magic of it was that even though I knew it wasn't real, even though I knew the entire backstory was an orchestrated studio ruse, even though I'm not generally an idiot, I was scared. It worked, and worked well.

Jump to the present--literally, I just watched it--and the "new Blair Witch," Oren Peli's Paranormal Activity. Same idea in play: pieced together, after-the-fact found footage of an unexplained horror. But it's been ten years, so why not? Listen, I'm always willing to suspend my disbelief to be entertained until the filmmaker abuses that courtesy.

Now before I go on I should say I don't believe in ghosts. And even less so in recent years as the pseudo-science of shows like "Ghost Hunters" has completely warped any plausibility into ridiculousness. However, I cannot deny that we are all susceptible to our innate fear of the unknown playing tricks on us. That's why we watch horror movies and thrillers in the first place. It's almost as if we are taunting those primal emotions. So, like I said, I was all aboard for this movie.

Result? Eh. Halfway in the scenes started feeling staged and Peli chose to abuse the courtesy by building his tension through cheap scares and overplaying the monster card. It devolves into a standard possession story and the ending wasn't so much shocking as shockingly cliched. By comparison, I still remember how haunting that last shot in Blair Witch was to me.

Playlist: Big Man Japan

Magnolia Pictures is far and away my favorite film distributor right now. Started in 2001 and now part of renegade NBA owner Mark Cuban's media empire, Magnolia has been responsible for parting the mainstream for some of the best indie and foreign films of the decade. As if that weren't enough, in 2007 Magnolia launched a new division, Magnet, that according to their press release, would specialize in the "wild, unquantifiable and uncompromised." Basically, some killer genre movies that we wouldn't be able to see otherwise (and may not have even been made.)

But, wait, it gets better. The following year, Magnet unveiled the Six Shooter Film Series.  to give a theatrical release to the world's best genre films. In their own words, the inaugural class gave a theatrical release to six films "from the vanguard of quality worldwide genre cinema. With each film hailing from a different country, the series aims to bring fans of horror, sci-fi, alternative comedy and Asian cinema a mix of the most intelligent, genre-bending titles available from around the globe." That's as pretty damn cool as mission statements get.

I was first drawn to Big Man Japan because it looked like possibly the goofiest movie ever. Directed by and starring popular Japanese comedian Hitoshi Matsumoto, it tells the story of an alternate Japan beset by actual attacks from city-thrashing monsters. Not traditional movie daikaiju, like Godzilla or Mothra, but freaky, human-like beasts that include, yes, a giant baby.

But the story is about the title character, Masaru Daisato, the latest (and possibly last) in a heroic line of men who can transform to gargantuan size when needed to defend their nation from monsters. Told in faux-doc style, we follow Daisato as he tries to cope with the burden of his "gift", his estranged wife and daughter, and fellow countrymen who have grown apathetic to him and his role in society. And this is the heart of the film and what lifts it beyond just a visual novelty.

I wasn't expecting the level of poignancy Matsumato achieves, not just in the scenes of Daisato's daily life, but during the mega-battles as well. It's billed as a comedy and it is, but one of those sneaky good comedies where the laughs blanket a deeper level of sadness.

Then there's the end. I have no idea what happens. Really. And it's pretty hard to explain other than to say during Big Man Japan's climatic fight with his arch enemy the movie suddenly becomes a different movie. Sort of. Again, I don't know. It's ridiculous.

Playlist: Paper Heart & Bruno

I'm not sure what to make of Paper Heart? It's a movie about the making of a documentary that doesn't really try very hard on either account. Charlyne Yi is a--what? comedian? performance artist? I still have no idea--woman who goes around interviewing people, including a lot of Hollywood hipster friends, about the subject of love. Unfortunately, she's not a good interviewer and doesn't seem to fully understand what she's even hoping to accomplish (not about finding the answer, that's the point, I get it, but about how to go about finding the answer--she has no POV, which is fancy talk for "personality). And that's just it: the fate of this film rests entirely on the audience finding Yi a loveably charming goofball. That she's whiney and dull does not make that a winning bet. At some point she falls for actor Michael Cera and they fall in love...or not, I honestly don't know. But I do know they dated for a few years in real life, which just further takes the point of this thing and drops it off a cliff. As for the filmmakers' bloated claim that they created a "hybrid documentary," I won't tell anyone that only means they couldn't write a whole script. Sssh...

Then we have Bruno, Sacha Baron Cohen's straight (so to speak) fake documentary about the quest for fame of a--politely phrased by Wikipedia--"flamboyant gay Austrian fashion journalist". I had reservations going in because 1. the Bruno segments were always the weakest parts of Cohen's "Da Ali G Show", and 2. it just looked like a gay Borat. Which it was, but who cares because it was funny. Cohen is an immensly talented performer who understands the most important rule of comedy: committment. If you're going in, go all in. Comedy is about the uncomfortableness of the truth and you can't be honest if you're scared. And even if some of the more over-the-top moments knock hard on the documentary wall, you accept that it's still a film about Bruno. Not Cohen. You're invested in the character, like him or hate him. So, it's not a fake documentary at all. It's a real documentary about a fake character. And there is a difference.

Quick endnote: Cohen's 2002 film about his signature creation, Ali G Indahouse, is an unfortunately underappreciated comedic showcase. If Borat and Bruno are raging caricatures, than Ali G is maybe the most ridiculous character ever brought to screen. There's nothing about him that connects to real life, but everything about him is real. That's mad skillz, yo. Booyakasha.