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Untraceable: A Review

There are two independent, single-screen movie theatres in my neighbourhood that I like to support, even to the point of paying for movies I'd never go out of my way to see. Sometimes when I'm sitting across the street having a slice of pizza with the marquee staring me right in the face, I'll take a chance on a movie like Untraceable, especially when I'm feeling less than great and my only plans for the evening involve going home and doing a load of laundry.

After browsing the reviews last week, the general consensus seemed to be that Untraceable was a below-average cop thriller which bordered on torture porn, and based on those reviews I had no desire to see it. But I'd forgotten all about that tonight, until the opening sequence of a kitten in a cat carrier in a dingy basement, meowing and scratching at its cage, begging to be let out, while a video camera records the whole thing. An unseen man places what appears to be a glue trap in front of the carrier, places some food on the other side of the trap to entice the kitten, then releases it from its cage. At this point, I was thinking that paying for this movie was a mistake.

I suddenly remembered the torture porn accusations from the reviews I'd read and I started to imagine the worst. As an animal lover who lost a beloved cat of my own in the past year, I found the tension in this scene almost unbearable, until a harsh light suddenly lit up the kitten's face, causing it to hiss, and then the film cut to a different location.

I had to give the filmmaker's credit for creating an extremely nerve-wracking scene without ever resorting to grisly images of feline flesh being torn apart, so I settled in to give the movie a fair chance.

Untraceable focuses on Jennifer Marsh, an FBI cybercrimes expert played by Diane Lane, presumably because Ashely Judd was unavailable. When Marsh and her coworkers, including a bland Colin Hanks, discover the website killwithme.com, they see a still frame of the kitten on the glue trap, and if it weren't for the dialogue I wouldn't have known for sure that the kitten was dead.

The movie shows similar restraint for most of the first act, even as Marsh watches grisly videos of suicides and tragic accidents on the internet. The camera usually focuses on the characters while small, grainy images play out on computer screens in the background, and I was thinking that Untraceable was shaping up to be a reasonably tasteful thriller with a message I could really get behind, i.e. condemning the voyeuristic desire to watch real violence online. But then the killer claimed his first human victim.

I've never seen a movie that was labelled as torture porn, such as the Saw or Hostel series, and if I have my way, I never will. So when the murderer started slowly killing people on-screen in increasingly bizarre ways while streaming the deaths for an online audience, the movie lost some of the respect it had earned during the opening. Although, I must admit, I was expecting a lot worse.

Yes, there is quite a bit of blood during the first torture scene, and extensive make-up work showing flesh being destroyed in various ways during later murders, but I didn't think it was drastically worse than images from other movies which critics have praised, such as Silence Of The Lambs or Se7en. The main difference is the amount of screen time given to the death scenes which play out in real-time, but is that any different from Alfred Hitchcock's Frenzy, released way back in 1971, which had equally lengthy murder scenes, minus all the special effects.

I'm not about to rush out and rent Saw IV after surviving Untraceable relatively unscathed, and I'm not saying the movie isn't grisly, but I'm not convinced that the movie deserves the torture porn label. The bulk of the images during the murder scenes focus on the victims' faces, the shocked reactions of the investigators who watch the killings online as they take place, or the cold, bemused expression of the killer. There are closeups and inserts of images that are designed to be revolting, but the movie does hold back more than I expected, albeit less than I would have liked.

As for the rest of the movie, it's an uneven police procedural with both its fair share of nice touches and ludicrous moments. It was shot in Portland, Oregon, so there's lots of wonderful scenery, unique locations, and interesting cityscapes that you wouldn't have gotten shooting in an over-used location like L.A., New York, or even here in Vancouver.

The film does get preachy at times, and its message is weakened by hypocritically showing the kind of violence it claims to loathe. It also relies on too many Hollywood clichés, such as when the killer deliberately taunts the investigators and eventually targets the woman in charge of the case.

On the plus side, the killer unexpectedly chooses men as his first three victims, which goes against the conventions of the genre, thereby making those scenes a little less tacky, and when the connection between the victims is finally discovered, I found the revelations quite clever and intriguing. And the basic premise - the more hits the killer's website gets, the faster his victims die, thereby making web surfers complicit in the crime - had great potential.

Diane Lane's performance keeps the film grounded in reality, and Billy Burk does nice work as the local cop assigned to the case. The fact they don't immediately fall into bed together makes this a better movie than it might have been, and the personal lives of the characters are handled in a way that's emotionally honest.

But the killer's increasingly elaborate torture devices become a bit silly, which may be why I didn't find them as disturbing as something more plausible, ie. a sick bastard with a big knife. And the way the killer finally ensnares his first female captive is laughable. He's supposed to be a technological wizard, but his expertise in that sequence completely destroyed the film's already thin credibility.

This genre is one I haven't paid much attention to for years now, and since seeing David Fincher's brilliant Zodiac several times this year, I think any movie that spends this much time focused on the bloody exploits of a brilliant sadistic killer will seem tacky and exploitative by comparison. So, all in all, Untraceable is a decent, occasionally formulaic and somewhat passé serial killer movie with moments of true inspiration, improved greatly by Diane Lane's performance and the fresh look of its locations.

See this movie if you liked: Kiss The Girls, Hannibal




PS - I can't remember which site I saw this on, but I read movie reviews somewhere that required the reviewer to list their biases to help readers better understand where the reviewer is coming from and if they're likely to react the same way. I think that's a brilliant innovation in the world of movie reviews, so I'll do the same thing now and in any future movie reviews I post here.

Biases
The Reviewer Likes: Diane Lane, rain-swept vistas, kittens
The Reviewer Hates: Blood and guts, recycled plot devices, doing laundry

"NSFWPD Blue" or "Nudity vs. Prudity"

In a move that will either (a) cost ABC 1.4 million dollars, or (b) cost the FCC its last ounce of credibility, the Federal Communications Commission recently fined the network for an episode of NYPD Blue which aired way back in 2003 and featured female nudity.

The clip from that episode is currently available on YouTube, although who knows for how long, but this link is working as of right now. Let me reiterate that the clip features a beautiful naked woman in all her natural glory (gasp!) so the video is probably not safe for work, church picnics, or show and tell.



In case the YouTube clip disappears, here's a vidcap of Charlotte Ross' posterior for posterity.

(In case you haven't figured it out by now, the picture is not exactly safe for work either. Scroll down to see the image and read the rest of my thoughts on the subject.)

































I love this story for countless reasons, including the fact that it brought this clip to my attention. I think every heterosexual male who watched the show back in the day was eagerly awaiting a nude scene from Charlotte Ross, but this episode aired long after I, and most of the western world, had stopped watching the show, which is just one reason the FCC decision is so ridiculous.

It wasn't too hard to find a history of female nudity on NYPD Blue, and judging by the still frames, this Charlotte Ross clip was arguably the most explicit nude scene in the show's history, although a couple of Amy Brenneman's come close, so what makes this scene fine-worthy?

Is it the fact that there's a child involved? Is it the fact that the camera offers a long, lingering look at Charlotte Ross from the rear, plus side-boob during the walk to the shower, or is it because the shaky cam operator makes an oh-so-subtle move to go back for seconds later in the scene? Is it the between the thighs shot of the kid, or the angle from behind his head where his jug ears give the impression of areolas? Or is it the barely concealed boobies and va-ja-jay in the final shot when Charlotte Ross covers herself up to spare the kid a memory he'll savour forever permanent psychological damage? According to the FCC, it's none of these things. It's the fact that the episode aired at 9:00 pm in several time zones.

ABC had gotten away with brief glimpses of flesh in the past by airing the show at 10:00 pm, but the rules are different at 9:00pm. Apparently all children automatically fall into REM sleep at precisely 9:59 pm, thereby making them immune to any smut aired after ten o'clock. I mean, if they didn't, such hard and fast rules wouldn't make any sense, now would they?

According to the FCC, "We find that the programming at issue is within the scope of our indecency definition because it depicts sexual organs and excretory organs -- specifically an adult woman's buttocks."

First of all, the buttocks are not sexual organs. They're not even organs. For Charlotte Ross to reveal her sexual organs, she would have had to bend over much, much farther than she did.

There's a big difference between sexual organs and sexy. If the FCC were to fine networks for everything that men find sexually stimulating, all women on TV would be required to wear burqas.

And I love the part where the FCC describes the buttocks as "excretory organs". In my experience, the only thing the buttocks ever excrete is sweat. I don't know what those filthy pervs at the FCC imagine they saw, but the camera didn't zoom in that close.

If I sat down and looked at the FCC regulations that were in place at the time, I'm sure I'd find that ABC did violate those rules. I'm not disputing that. What I'm saying is that the rules are laughable.

Who exactly is the FCC trying to protect? More and more kids today are abandoning television for the internet where they're never more than three clicks away from Britney Spears' vagina.

And didn't the ten years of controversy regarding NYPD Blue give parents enough prep time? Surely the V-Chip and the repeated warnings during the broadcast would have saved the vast majority of America's fragile, impressionable minds - both young and old - from being exposed to this filth. This intoxicating, life-affirming, god-given filth.

Clearly this fine is either a cash grab or an attempt to appease the Christian lobbyists who make the vast majority of all complaints to the FCC anyway. I think it's time for the rest us to fight back.

If you want to contact the FCC to complain about this prudish decision, here's how to reach them:

1-888-225-5322 (1-888-CALL FCC) Voice: toll-free
1-888-835-5322 (1-888-TELL FCC) TTY: toll-free
1-866-418-0232 FAX: toll-free

Chairman Kevin J. Martin: KJMWEB@fcc.gov
Commissioner Michael J. Copps: Michael.Copps@fcc.gov
Commissioner Jonathan S. Adelstein: Jonathan.Adelstein@fcc.gov
Commissioner Deborah Taylor Tate: dtaylortateweb@fcc.gov
Commissioner Robert McDowell: Robert.McDowell@fcc.gov


If you're in the Washington area and want to lodge a complaint in person, you can do so at the following address:

Federal Communications Commission
445 12th Street SW
Washington, DC 20554


The FCC also has regional offices all over the country, but I can't find the addresses on their website, so if you truly want to complain in person, I'm sure the good people at the above phone numbers would help you find the nearest branch.

My suggestion for a suitable complaint would be to bring a friend with a camera and send me a picture of yourself mooning FCC headquarters, making sure to get both the FCC logo and your booty in the frame. (No excretory organs, please. This is not that kind of site.)

Since the FCC is so disturbed by the female form, I think it makes more sense to have women exposing their orifices to the FCC's offices. I won't stop men from freeing their cheeks in the name of free speech, but the FCC never had any problem with Dennis Franz, Jimmy Smits, or David Caruso dropping trou, so I think it would have more of an impact if the mooning was done by women. Preferably young, supple women with lower back tattoos.

I'll post your pictures if you send me a link to a Flickr account or some similar service, or email me at thinking (dot) idiot (at) yahoo (dot) com.

I may even dedicate a separate website to this endeavor if response warrants it.

Facebook News Network

This just in... amateur video posted on YouTube is actually worth watching.

More on this shocking story as it develops.

Is Canadian The New Black?

From the National Post comes this bizarre article:

Last August, a blogger in Cincinnati going by the name CincyBlurg reported that a black friend from the southeastern U.S. had recently discovered that she was being called a Canadian. "She told me a story of when she was working in a shop in the South and she overheard some of her customers complaining that they were always waited on by a Canadian at that place. She didn't understand what they were talking about and assumed they must be talking about someone else," the blogger wrote.

"After this happened several times with different patrons, she mentioned it to one of her co-workers. He told her that ‘Canadian' was the new derogatory term that racist Southerners were using to describe persons they would have previously referred to [with the N-word.]"

A similar case in Kansas City was reported last year on a Listserv, or electronic mailing list, used by linguistics experts. A University of Kansas linguist said that a waitress friend reported that "fellow workers used to use a name for inner-city families that were known to not leave a tip: Canadians. ‘Hey, we have a table of Canadians.... They're all yours.' "

Stefan Dollinger, a postdoctoral fellow in linguistics at University of British Columbia and director of the university's Canadian English lab, speculated that the slur reflects a sense of Canadians as the other.

"This ‘code' word, is the replacement of a no-longer tolerated label for one outsider group, with, from the U.S. view, another outsider group: Canadians. It could have been terms for Mexicans, Latinos etc. but this would have been too obvious," he said. "What's left? Right, the guys to the north."


Keeping up with modern slang can be so confusing. Does "redneck" still mean the same thing it always did?

I checked the Urban Dictionary definition of Canadian, and there it is, so that must be the online slang dictionary they refered to in the article.

Read the rest of the story here.

James Bond Will Return In... Quantum of Solace?!?!?!

The title is taken from one of a collection of short stories published by 007 creator Ian Fleming in 1960.

Um... really? This is not a hoax, or a journalistic blunder? This is the actual title for the next James Bond movie? Really?

I'm thinking Bond 22 would have looked better on a marquee.

On the plus side, I probably won't confuse this new film with any of the other Bond flicks the way I did with last few Brosnan efforts, The World Never Dies Another Day and Tomorrow Is Not Enough.

Another plus is that I already have a good title for my review of the film, should I write one...

"Quantity Of Suckage".

If the movie turns out to be good, I'll just have to find a way to make that title fit.

Quantum Of Solace... Really rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?

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