Flags of Our Fathers and The Prestige

Flags of Our Fathers (3.5/5)

I’d hate to be inside Clint Eastwood’s head. The guy doesn’t have a happy-go-lucky bone in his body. His movies are dire and depressing, in Clint’s world everything ends in tears. The tears have never flowed more freely than they do with his latest film, Flags of our Fathers, based on a book by Jim Bradley about the true story of the men behind the famous flag-raising picture from the World War II battle of Iwo Jima.

Though the film features a spectacular yet horrifying beach-storming battle scene nearly on par with the one from Saving Private Ryan, it’s not really about the heroic fight to take the tiny Japanese island where the picture is taken. Instead, the movie cuts back and forth from the battle to scenes much later after the three still living boys who raised the flag are shipped back home to be used as a promotional tool in drumming up support for the war.

These boys refuse to think of themselves as heroes, they’re just guys who tried not to get shot and the movie tells their story more from a perspective of sad resignation than heroic achievement in spite of the odds.

There are no heroes here, simply survivors.

When in the middle of battle, because the movie is told from the extremely narrow perspective of a few soldiers in the middle of a firestorm, there’s no real attempt to make sense of the specifics of what’s happening at Iwo Jima. The horrific battle fought is simply a catalyst to understanding what’s going on inside the heads of soldiers John “Doc” Bradley (Ryan Phillippe), Rene Gagnon (Jesse Bradford), and Ira Hayes (Adam Beach). The focus of Flags of our Fathers is not on what happened during the war, but how the war affected the men who fought in it. As you’d imagine, it isn’t pretty.

Read more at Cinemablend

The Prestige (5/5)

The Prestige begins like a camera completely out of focus. Nothing makes any sense. Nolan’s film flips backwards and forwards through time like he’s having a Memento flashback, characters wander across the screen talking about things we can’t begin to understand. Locations appear, performances are had, and for a moment I thought I’d misread something and it was actually directed by David Lynch. Not so. Before long things start getting clearer. Bit by bit, everything comes into focus, a gradual process until by its end the film’s brilliant, complete picture is crystal clear.

To get there, you’ll have to earn it. You’ll have to hate it before you like it. During it’s running time The Prestige will make you irritated, confused, exasperated, frustrated but before it’s over… you’ll fall in love with it. It’s not just Nolan’s best film; it’s one of the best of the year.

Unlike the lame-duck Illusionist, The Prestige is actually about magicians. The film ducks in and out of the lives of two rival performers, as they build their careers and trample over one another on their way to success in late 19th century London. Alfred Borden (Christian Bale) and Robert Angier (Hugh Jackman) start out together, working for a rival magician.

Both aspire to a career in magic, but Angier refuses to get his hands dirty while Borden proclaims the only way to become a great magician is a path of total commitment. Things go wrong, they part as enemies. Angier holds a grudge against Borden and they go out in the world to make their fortune.

Meanwhile Borden has an ace up his sleeve: an unbeatable trick. He walks in one door and out another across the room and calls it “The Transported Man”. Unable to fathom how he’s done it, the trick drives Angier completely mad. Their rivalry grows more vicious and desperate, with their magic skills used not only to wow audiences but wreak havoc on one another.