Subscribe to
FlickrReview: Ink
And now for happier topics:
See Ink.
No, seriously. You should. It's likely this is the first you're hearing of it, and it's very unlikely you recognize any of the names involved in its production; but this is one of those times where independent film soars.
Because this film works so heavily on its atmosphere, and because it is not something like Paranormal Activity that you're likely to know much about, I am going to keep this review as spoiler-free as possible.
A summary has trouble doing this film justice, because, lacking spoilers, it is impossible to make it sound anything but trite—and the inability to summarize its originality may be Ink's only weakness. It's about a world just beside and layered over our own, where beings of light and beings of shadow govern the more ephemeral aspects of our existence; it's about one angry, tortured soul and his decision to purge himself of that pain; and it's about humanity, and family, and what has to happen for us to change our path.
But what makes Ink stand out is not the skeleton of its plot; what makes Ink stand out is the meat and the skin, the way the details of this other-world are executed and the style and tone of the setting. Director/writer Jamin Winans creates an urban fairytale that manages to step outside the typical bums-at-a-Ren-Faire look, with a mythology that makes you shiver as much as giggle. The cinematography is expertly frenetic, and the actors hit the proper note at allo times. The movie is often quiet, and often cold; but these are part of the Ink mystique. Even the sparse smattering of fight scenes manage some originality, even as they derive a dash or two of inspiration from Guy Ritchie or the Wachowski brothers. The movie takes unknown actors and a low budget and runs with them, breeding originality underneath a layer of predictability. One look at the design for the Incubi, and the industrial-Dreamtime look of the sets, and I'd almost bet money you'll be sold.
And do not get me wrong, this film is on occasion predictable; some of the hints as to what is going on are perhaps too broad, and the story at base is a layer of black and a layer of gray over something we've all seen before. But it manages to never coddle its viewers—there is no scene full of exposition that doesn't feel natural within the flow of the story, and even those take place much later than lesser productions would have allowed; and beyond that, it does so much good with the details of that predictable story that I cannot fault them for sticking within the bounds of their chosen fable.
In the end, I give Ink five out of five terrifying black-and-white nerds. This is proof that it's not telling something original that matters; it's telling what you can find in an original way. A must-view for fans of Henson, Gilliam, or del Toro.
See Ink.
No, seriously. You should. It's likely this is the first you're hearing of it, and it's very unlikely you recognize any of the names involved in its production; but this is one of those times where independent film soars.
Because this film works so heavily on its atmosphere, and because it is not something like Paranormal Activity that you're likely to know much about, I am going to keep this review as spoiler-free as possible.
A summary has trouble doing this film justice, because, lacking spoilers, it is impossible to make it sound anything but trite—and the inability to summarize its originality may be Ink's only weakness. It's about a world just beside and layered over our own, where beings of light and beings of shadow govern the more ephemeral aspects of our existence; it's about one angry, tortured soul and his decision to purge himself of that pain; and it's about humanity, and family, and what has to happen for us to change our path.
But what makes Ink stand out is not the skeleton of its plot; what makes Ink stand out is the meat and the skin, the way the details of this other-world are executed and the style and tone of the setting. Director/writer Jamin Winans creates an urban fairytale that manages to step outside the typical bums-at-a-Ren-Faire look, with a mythology that makes you shiver as much as giggle. The cinematography is expertly frenetic, and the actors hit the proper note at allo times. The movie is often quiet, and often cold; but these are part of the Ink mystique. Even the sparse smattering of fight scenes manage some originality, even as they derive a dash or two of inspiration from Guy Ritchie or the Wachowski brothers. The movie takes unknown actors and a low budget and runs with them, breeding originality underneath a layer of predictability. One look at the design for the Incubi, and the industrial-Dreamtime look of the sets, and I'd almost bet money you'll be sold.
And do not get me wrong, this film is on occasion predictable; some of the hints as to what is going on are perhaps too broad, and the story at base is a layer of black and a layer of gray over something we've all seen before. But it manages to never coddle its viewers—there is no scene full of exposition that doesn't feel natural within the flow of the story, and even those take place much later than lesser productions would have allowed; and beyond that, it does so much good with the details of that predictable story that I cannot fault them for sticking within the bounds of their chosen fable.
In the end, I give Ink five out of five terrifying black-and-white nerds. This is proof that it's not telling something original that matters; it's telling what you can find in an original way. A must-view for fans of Henson, Gilliam, or del Toro.
Labels: reviews
posted by Tyler at
9:24 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home