Review: A GLIMPSE INSIDE THE MIND OF CHARLES SWAN III (2013) by Mike Sullivan

Is it me or was Charlie Sheen an actor at one point? Because as far back as I can remember, Sheen has always been a guy who punched hookers and then appeared on a sitcom or in a bad parody movie to make fun of the fact that he punched hookers. 98% of this guy’s career has been one prolonged wink and it has never been funny or charming. He’s not an incorrigible rascal, he’s the kind of guy whose death will be ruled an apparent suicide because coke-fueled, auto-erotic asphyxiation is far too long to fit on a death certificate.

However, there was one slightly redeeming factor behind Sheen’s, ‘ain’t I a stinker’ routine and it’s the fact that he never tried to convince us that he was anything more than an enormous garbage idiot. He wasn’t a beautiful sensitive man who deserved love, he was a guy who joylessly mumbled out the word boner on TWO AND A HALF MEN. Unfortunately, A GLIMPSE INSIDE THE MIND OF CHARLES SWAN III changed all that because now we’re supposed to give a damn about the man behind the STDs and, unlike Emilio Estevez, that’s not a step I’m willing to take.

Loosely based around the graphic art of Charles White III, SWAN tells the story of a dying blood hound in sunglasses (it could be a hard-partyin’ graphic artist named Charles Swan III. With Sheen in the role it’s really difficult to say) whose girlfriend (Katheryn Winnick) breaks up with him and makes him very sad. So sad that he drives his vintage Cadillac into a pool, spends way too much money on caviar and throws a garbage can at a tall building. Eventually Sheen confronts Winnick about the break-up and tells her that he doesn’t want to never not love her (or something). Winnick then thanks him for all the experiences he gave her. Even the ones where he fucked other women behind her back. As they part ways, Sheen imagines himself singing an acoustic cover of "Aguas De Marco" with Winnick because stilted quirkiness equals genuine comedy. Sheen then goes to a party and feels better when he watches a marionette version of himself look up a woman’s dress. The End.

I know I’m in the minority here, but I find those elaborate, aggressively quirky, Etsy-ready products Wes Anderson calls movies completely insufferable. Additionally, I’ve always thought his comedies were for people who felt that laughter is something those grimy, dirt people do at Jeff Dunham concerts. But as much as I dislike Anderson, at least I can say that his movies are actually movies. At least they have a beginning, a middle and an end. At least his characters aren’t a series of vaguely defined traits awkwardly stuffed into a series of silly '70s inspired wigs. And that’s more than I can say about Roman Coppola who is basically everyone’s most negative opinions about Wes Anderson realized in one person.

Apart from the one-dimensional characters and the thin, practically non-existent storyline, CHARLES SWAN III fails because it’s trying to shoehorn Sheen’s eternally sleazy tabloid persona into the twee, artisanal sensibilities of a Wes Anderson film and it’s a combination that not only doesn’t work, it’s actually punishing to watch. It’s kind of like an issue of Maxim that’s been edited by Chris Ware or a movie based on the art of Henry Darger directed by Russ Meyer. Throughout the film there are numerous fantasy sequences where Sheen is murdered by shrewish women in stereotypical Native American drag or nearly murdered by the vindictive agents of the Secret Society of Ballbusters who are such totally, on the rag bitches they get all upset when their boyfriends try to pick up women behind their backs. Look, females! Understand that our penises just end up inside of things. Sometimes it’s a strange lady other times it’s a tepid bowl of Spaghetti-Os. Our penises are not a crime! Now get off the rag, get on the treadmill and go back to your stronghold on Bitch Mountain! Playful misogyny aside, CHARLES SWAN III makes no attempt to challenge or comment ironically on Swan’s sexist point of view. The film just shrugs its shoulders and happily agrees with him. CHARLES SWAN III is basically just a series of whimsical interpretations of a sexual predator’s self-loathing filled daydreams. Oh, and there’s also a scene with a hot dog couch, so look out for that.

Shockingly, apart from Sheen’s stuntcasting, CHARLES SWAN III boasts (and wastes) an amazing cast that includes Aubrey Plaza, Jason Schwartzman, Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Colleen Camp and Bill Murray. Yes, that Bill Murray. The same Bill Murray who’s extremely selective about everything he does and refuses to appear in things like COMMUNITY and PARKS AND RECREATION. What happened here? Was it a personal favor to Anderson? Did he pull another Garfield and wrongly assume this movie was directed by Francis Ford Coppola? Whatever the reason, he’s in it and he doesn’t look too happy about it. He just looks logy and beaten down. Maybe he pissed off Anderson and this was some kind of penance he had to perform before he could appear in MOONRISE KINGDOM.

Still, if I have to say something nice, I will say I enjoyed the Liam Hayes soundtrack. Everything else about this DVD can decay on the floor of that abandoned strip mall where Blockbuster Video used to be.

-- Mike Sullivan

Recent Netflix Rentals, or maybe not-so-recent...

I've been MIA recently, I know. Hey, I have a day job, I help out with the physical production of Shock Cinema Magazine, and I'm writing a book. Three if you count the ones I'm shelving or planning. I also have stacks of movies to watch! That keeps me away from the blog even when there is important news like the Tokyo Zombie DVD getting a US release at last (which I found out about AGES ago and never bothered to post- bad obscure film fan, no cookie). There are a number of films that have seen legit releases that I actually liked, and I'm not just talking documentaries about grim and depressing subject matter. Oh no, these are full on dramatic films about grim and depressing subject matter!

First off is JCVD: Jean Claude Van Damme. What ever you think of the guy, feisty B-movie star who introduced a generation of stoned teen boys to the virtues of Hong Kong directors like Hark Tsui and John Woo or annoying Belgian martial arts moron who can't deliver a line -- JCVD will change that. This visually stunning, exciting, thoughtful and funny french language film was shot on a relatively low budget, but makes good use of the streets of Brussels and it's now-slightly-weathered leading man. Referencing Van Damme's actual career, the writers (Frederic Benudis, Mabrouk El Merchri- who also directed) pulled no punches in showing just what the life of an over-the-hill action man might entail. The opening scene (a stunning one shot) has Van Damme work his way through a back lot war zone, karate chopping and faux-face-kicking soldier after soldier, only to have prop failures and a bored director foil his performance in this film-within-a-film. This leads to the heart of the story, Van Damme's American ex-wife is suing him for custody of his estranged tween daughter (very close to real life from my understanding), his lawyers want money, his agent can't land him a decent role, so he's on his way back to Belgium a broken man. Of course when he enters a local post office, should you be surprised when gun shots ring out and he tells the police he's holding the unlucky people inside for ransom? Anymore would give too much of the plot away, but it includes a monologue delivered and written by Van Damme that would break the heart of even the most blase mumbblecore devote, and a refreshingly realistic twist to the finale. Make sure you stick to the subtitled track, the dubbed cut is painful to say the least. Mind you, I have a history of pushing artsy French action films, but this time the critics agree.

It's not often that a film adaptation drives me to go buy a popular novel and promptly get hooked -- Night Watch, Hellboy, and now Let the Right One In are the only examples I can think of. Let the Right One in hit the festival circuit around the same time Twilight opened in theaters, but the two films share only the briefest of vampire trappings. While Twilight's picture-perfect teen blood suckers try to tame their (blood)lust and play super human baseball for fun, Let the Right One In's sole creature of the night is an unkempt twelve year old girl who is more passionate about solving Rubix Cubes than in practicing her attractive pout. Set in the early 80's in a Suburb of Stockholm (think what Jersey is to NYC) young Oskar is a middle school looser, his classmates tease and bully him horribly, the teachers ignore his existence. His clingy mother and caring but dysfunctional, estranged father certainly don't help. While Oskar dreams of revenge, he notices the new neighbors who have moved in next door in their generic, middle class housing development are not quite normal. They arrived by cab in the dark of night, their windows are covered with blankets, neither "father" Hakan nor "daughter" Eli are often seen outside and certainly aren't friendly when they are. Hakan seems to engage in the activities of a serial killer (though he bungles most everything) and Eli stalks Oskar in the playground at night, undaunted by the icy cold of the Swedish winter, and continues to pursue him even after claiming they "can't be friends." In time, Oskar befriends Eli, only to have her reveal that she is a vampire of sorts, never getting older and requiring the fresh blood of human beings to survive, she also can not enter a home without being asked (the director has no qualms about graphically illustrating just what happens if she tries). There is a romance of sorts between Eli and Oskar, though in the least romantic sense, and it's hard to say if Eli is lonely or reserving Oskar for a snack. Their story is told on the back drop of a society which projects a clean image but is decrepit underneath -- in this lovely suburban lie the school children are monsters who attempt to drown Oskar in an icy lake during a field trip, the neighbors are derelict drunks, parents are useless. Beautifully directed and shot by Thomas Alfredson with well placed visual effects, this grim, violent, piercing adaptation streamlines J. A. Lindqvist's (also the screenwriter) brick of novel while still retaining the essence. I have a feeling this one will stay with me for a while.

Fan Favorite Mamoru Oshii's latest venture, Sky Crawlers, didn't attract the sort of worshipful response his animated outings usually garner. Slow paced, almost mundane in its approach to its not-quite sci fi environment, I can understand why. However, that is not the issue I had. While the rambling plot with its complex themes and nostalgic aura kept me interested, I found the photo-realistic CGI jarring in contrasts to the delicate, etherial 2D animation. In a world without war Yuichi is a perpetual youth, a pilot who flies fake missions for television ratings to keep the minds of a bored public off the threat of real war. Dubbed Kildren, these genetically engineered entertainers live empty lives, filling in the time between dogfights with smoking, drinking and the occasional outing with a prostitute. Not much seems to bother Yuichi about this, even when he is stationed at a new base his only real curiosity is what happened to the owner of the plane he's been assigned to. The thing is, there is plenty of of weird going on -- Yuichi's new commander looks a bit like a Kildren herself, she tends toward odd ticks like picking up discarded matches and telling her own daughter they are "sisters" to explain away the age discrepancy. The other pilots are odd too, from the jaded OCD, paper reading, albino to Yuichi's hard drinking roommate. And why does everyone keep commenting on the disappearance of Jinro, the pilot Yuichi has replaced? Based on the book by Hiroshi Mori, Oishii's presence is felt throughout, right down to the trademark hound dog hanging around the airplane hanger. CGI aside, this is one hell of a picture. Anime meets French Bande Dessine of the Corto Maltse ilk.

I think they should have Saturday Morning Cartoons for Grownups...

I've come to the slow realization that comic books are about to become a much larger part of my life... so in that spirit, I thought I would go over some of my favorite animated projects that have been available State side at one time or another.

I'll start with Tekkon Kinkreet: Based on the manga of the same name by French influenced Japanese artist Taiyo Matsumoto, this is the first real project by Studio 4C to reach the US legitimately. Long time readers of Shock Cinema may recall Mind Game from the Film Flotsam section of the magazine a few issues back. Well, this is the same group of people with an American ex-pat at the helm (don't be put off, all you anime purists, he's worked for the company for years -- hello, Animatrix). The film captures both the style and esoteric story telling of the source material and will probably confound your average US viewer. Case in point: They are eating it up in France.

Speaking of France, I recently went looking for the English language release of Les Mondes Engloutis, or Spartikus and the Sun Beneath the Sea. This aired in the mid 80's in the US along with a package of Japanese-animated-for-French-TV Saturday morning fare. This French made, two season series was by far the most memorable. While the animation is stunted, it perfectly compliments the design and story. It would make a nice companion to Tekkon Kinkreet, but it is unavailable. Oh poo. If you do find yourself confronted with a musty old VHS copy, be forewarned that the US and Spanish release included the treacley pop stylings of Menudo over the end credits. UK and German viewers were spared this indignity.

Because of the sheer volume of animation that comes out of Japan, it may seem like that's where all the cool stuff is. Sure, I'll happily watch Paranoia Agent for the third time, or FLCL for the tenth, but I'm not an anime fan over all. I mean, good animation is just, well, good animation. That is why the Popeye The Sailor 1933-1938 is still at the top of my Netflix queue. A four disc set, arranged chronologically, re-mastered... a wet dream for Fleischer fans everywhere.

Oh, what I wouldn't do for a clean copy of the English dub of Felidae, a German animated feature from the mid 90's. Complete with swearing, sex and violence, a feline Sam Spade tries to solve the mystery of grisly cat murders in his new neighborhood. The Disney-eque style compliments the dark subject matter perfectly. Watch it with The Plague Dogs for a double bill of not so cute and fuzzy.


I still have a stack of animated oddities to make way through, so I'll end my commentary for now, but I'm sure I'll be back with more as I'm always on the look out for the next mind blowing feature in my favorite film category -- Animation!