Jim,

Just recently finished Chop Shop, and I feel that the manner in which I came to view the film is too delightful to not share with another fan. Though I've used them for years, only tonight did I finally make time to dabble with Netflix's online streaming options. To give the movie viewing program a quick test run, I clicked on the highest title in my cue with the option to do so: Chop Shop (from here on out CS).

Halfway the first shot, I was hooked. Damn, does Bahrani know how to pace and set mood and tone. Mentally, I quickly relegated all other tasks to the back of my mind: I needed to watch this movie.

Overall, there's too much to love that I can even remember. (I took some notes during, but mostly just focused, becoming absorbed.) I love the juxtaposition of actions in the foreground against larger scale networks in the background. I love how the movie details an entire world that most viewers will have little to no personal experience with -- one that we see on occasion as we run parallel to it, but usually nothing more. I was often reminded of the beautiful, exposition-packed cutaways in McCabe and Mrs. Miller, and in it's own quiet way, CS too is a film about everything.

I loved how it shows us that everyone has their own art -- for some, it's repairing automobiles.

Did I mention the title's incredibly high fun factor? I want to say it all day.

I already saw Man Push Cart about a year ago, give or take. I liked it very much, and was delighted to see that not only is Ahmad Razvi a member of the Bahrani troupe, but that it's the same Ahmad! Am I a hipster if I say I'd like to see a post-MPC, pre-CS mid-quel?

The Chop Shop itself felt like a performer in a larger piece; like MPC, this is a film with an incredible sense of place, of space, of how they shape and guide and define us (and how we can recognize this and work it to our advantage).

One thing I should mention is a similar experience I had while watching both CS and MPC. Let me describe it as a temporary reservation about the unfolding plot of each film. In short, whenever something big happen, revelation/development-speaking (the disappearance of the cart, the discovery of Isamar in the truck), I feel, almost instinctively, like my chain is being jerked. It isn't until well into the rest of the film that I come to realize that this wasn't a set-up, but an occurrence, a stepping stone as opposed to a leap with an intended and pre-determined landing point already in mind. Bahrani, deliberately or not (which, I couldn't say), seems to be subverting some of our most basic narrative expectations, and he's doing it so well that I fell for the same trick (of the mind) twice.

There were maybe a half-dozen single shots in the movie that made me think "best of the year" status, in terms of both composition and clarity of purpose/sleight of hand. The favorite the springs first to mind sees Ale walking away from us, nighttime, with two subways running opposite directions on the tracks in the distance above. For a brief moment, as they finally run their lengths past each other, we see two lines of windows pulling away from each other, like a stream of light split down the middle being pulled apart. Then they disappear into the night like additional little universes making their way throughout some unseen larger one.

I can't yet call Bahrani one of my favorite current directors, but I'm a fan and I'll be keeping a close eye on him. In a way, I'm most excited by the fact that, great though these are, I don't yet think we've seen any of his masterpieces. I hope to be waiting for them in the theater when they come.

Oh, and the Netflix viewer was really good, too. I think I've found a new addiction.

Rob