FILM FESTING

When Travis Crawford, curator of the Philly Film Festival’s "Danger After Dark" series took to the stage last night and announced in an emotionless tone that Oldboy was the greatest film ever made, I was this close to uttering an inappropriate heckle – which based on my proclivity for sticking my foot in my mouth, would have been supremely appropriate, considering the goth maiden seated next to me turned out to be his date, and the empty chair beside her, his.

Not that a Wookified bellow wouldn’t have been out of line, seeing as I had endured two disappointing Crawford certified viewings in a row – Izo was too esoteric for its own good, while One Missed Call seemed to too secure in its craving for mainstream appeal. But I’ll give the chap this - Oldboy is an utterly awe-inspiring revenge flick, a masterful mix of Hitchcock by way of Tarantino rooted in dark humor, graphic violence and an unexpected emotional kick to the craw that’s still lingering post 12 hours.

In his recent review in the Sun Times, Roger Ebert described Oldboy as “the kind of movie that can no longer easily be made in the United States,” but I disagree. Mark my words that a bastardized remake will be in production by year’s end, featuring a better looking cast, less explicit distress and a whole lot of sanding to smooth out Park Chanwook’s disturbing edges. Pity the fools – they won’t come close.