Crowded, Long, And Less Than 'Amazing'
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
One of the pleasures of "The Amazing Spider-Man" was its attention to young love, illustrated wonderfully by Peter Parker (Andrew Garfield) and Gwen Stacy (Emma Stone). I felt that it added an extra layer that was missing from Sam Raimi's original trilogy, where the acting could be sidelined for dramatic camera movement. With "The Amazing Spider-Man 2", however, the scenes between Garfield and Stone come in small doses, in favor of developing the film's many villains.
It begins with a car chase where Aleksei Sytsevich, a.k.a. Rhino (Paul Giamatti), is quickly subdued by Spider-Man and locked away for later use. In the process of apprehending Sytsevich, Spider-Man saves the life of a lonely OsCorp electrical engineer, Max Dillon (Jamie Foxx, who later becomes Electro after a freak accident involving mutated electric eels), which sets up Dillon's strange obsession with the web-slinging hero. Complicating matters further, Harry Osborn (Dane DeHaan) shows up to inherit OsCorp from his dying father, Norman (Chris Cooper), and discovers that he needs Spider-Man's blood to cure him of the same illness that is killing his father. All of this and we're only about a half-hour in to the two-and-a-half-hour running time. Crowded is putting it lightly...
While all of these new characters are introduced, Peter is struggling with the promise he made to Gwen's father, George (Denis Leary, who shows up just to stare disapprovingly at Peter in several scenes), to keep away from her, while Gwen is making plans to attend Oxford University. The focus is constantly shifting from one story to the next for the obvious purpose of setting up the next movie, or series of movies in this universe. In other words, "The Amazing Spider-Man 2" is less concerned with itself than what will undoubtedly come next.
It's a shame, really, because Peter and Gwen's relationship is something quite special. The film's strongest scene is one that involves Peter and Gwen deciding if they can truly be just friends or if they'll always be something more. The rules they establish for one another show the charm and wit they bring to the series, as well as the heart of Peter Parker's quest. Should he sacrifice what he wants in favor of being a hero, or is the real heroic act being there for the woman he loves?
The problem is that 'The Amazing Spider-Man 2" cannot decide what it wants to be. It's as if a bunch of noodles were thrown to the wall and the ones that stuck ended up making it into the movie. With three credited writers (Alex Kurtzman, Roberto Orci, and Jeff Pinkner), and a fourth for the story credit (James Vanderbilt), you would think that someone would have spoken up about the need for crowd control. Characters are ignored for chunks of the movie because of all the storylines and plot points the writers need to hit. After the initial confrontation, Electro is locked away, Aunt May (Sally Field) is virtually unseen except to deliver truly pointless exposition, Sytsevich is onscreen for a total of five minutes, and Harry's development into yet another villain is quite rushed.
All of this is to say that the writers and director Marc Webb appear to have forgotten what made this new incarnation of the series special in the first place: Garfield and Stone. They're the reason to include "amazing" in the title and they deserve far more than being ignored for unnecessary, uninteresting characters.
Showing posts with label Comedy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Comedy. Show all posts
Thursday, May 1, 2014
Sunday, April 27, 2014
Revisiting "(500) Days of Summer"
A Look Back At This Wonderful Indie From 2009
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
There's something about the hopeless romantic character that resonates deeply with me. Perhaps it's because I am one myself, or maybe it's the idea of lost idealism rushing to the surface that creates a lasting appeal. Whatever the reason, "(500) Days of Summer" is a film that puts this archetype front and center, the result of which is a damn fine movie.
The hopeless romantic in this story is Tom, played by the always engaging Joseph Gordon-Levitt, an architect at heart but currently employed as a writer of greeting cards in downtown Los Angeles. Tom's belief in true love is expressed when he first meets Summer (Zooey Deschanel), the new secretary at the card company. What follows is the story of their strained relationship and eventual break-up, told from Tom's perspective.
Gordon-Levitt plays Tom's heartbreak beautifully, never making it sentimental or pathetic. He becomes withdrawn, depressed and, for a while, angry. Angry at Summer, yes, but mostly angry at himself for believing that he could change Summer's beliefs about love to fit with his. She tells him early on that she's not looking for a relationship, nor does she believe in true love. But Tom believes so earnestly that he's the man that will cause her to rethink what she already knows. Where your sympathy lies depends upon the character with whom you identify the most.
On one hand, there's Summer, who is upfront and honest about what she's looking for. She tells Tom how it is and asks if he is willing to accept her terms. On the other hand, there's Tom, a man whose judgement is clouded by his convictions. But that's what makes watching this movie such a rewarding experience: It nails both sides of a doomed relationship so perfectly, that no matter who you see yourself as, it's a pleasure to watch.
This pleasure, for me at least, comes to fruition in two key scenes of the film. The first is a small moment that sets up the second scene, when we're led to believe that Tom and Summer could potentially get back together. It's a few seconds on a train after they've left a wedding and it seems like they're falling in love all over again. Tom is awake in his seat and Summer's head ever-so-gracefully falls on his shoulder. The look on Tom's face is one of pure joy and relief. He's done it, he's won her back, or so he thinks. It's a small gesture, yes, but in the hands of a less capable actor it could have gone way wrong. Gordon-Levitt lives in this moment and reacts accordingly.
The second scene is when Tom shows up at Summer's apartment for a party. She invited him at the wedding, they had that moment on the train, so naturally Tom thinks this is his shot at happiness. Many will remember that this is the expectations vs. reality sequence, where the left side of the screen shows what Tom thought would happen and the right shows what actually happens. It's sad, yes, but contagious in its effect. What we're left with is a broken man who has to reconcile with his own ideals.
The one love Tom still has in his life is the city of Los Angeles, which is a character in and of itself. Out of Tom's loss comes the will to pursue his dream of being an architect and letting the city that surrounds him be his constant source of inspiration. Los Angeles is shown in ways we're not used to seeing on screen; there's an affection for the city. You could almost say that Tom is having a constant affair with it. And that's just one of many charms this movie offers, especially upon repeated viewing.
Director Marc Webb uses a variety of filmmaking techniques, all of which compliment the mood and tone of the characters. There's a musical number when Tom and Summer have sex for the first time, a reference to French New Wave films when Tom is "suffering", and interviews with the characters about their thoughts on love. None of this ever takes you out of the story because it's all so complimentary of what Tom is going through. "(500) Days of Summer" is love in its richest form: it loves the characters, story and setting, but it also loves every aspect of the filmmaking process.
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
There's something about the hopeless romantic character that resonates deeply with me. Perhaps it's because I am one myself, or maybe it's the idea of lost idealism rushing to the surface that creates a lasting appeal. Whatever the reason, "(500) Days of Summer" is a film that puts this archetype front and center, the result of which is a damn fine movie.
The hopeless romantic in this story is Tom, played by the always engaging Joseph Gordon-Levitt, an architect at heart but currently employed as a writer of greeting cards in downtown Los Angeles. Tom's belief in true love is expressed when he first meets Summer (Zooey Deschanel), the new secretary at the card company. What follows is the story of their strained relationship and eventual break-up, told from Tom's perspective.
Gordon-Levitt plays Tom's heartbreak beautifully, never making it sentimental or pathetic. He becomes withdrawn, depressed and, for a while, angry. Angry at Summer, yes, but mostly angry at himself for believing that he could change Summer's beliefs about love to fit with his. She tells him early on that she's not looking for a relationship, nor does she believe in true love. But Tom believes so earnestly that he's the man that will cause her to rethink what she already knows. Where your sympathy lies depends upon the character with whom you identify the most.
On one hand, there's Summer, who is upfront and honest about what she's looking for. She tells Tom how it is and asks if he is willing to accept her terms. On the other hand, there's Tom, a man whose judgement is clouded by his convictions. But that's what makes watching this movie such a rewarding experience: It nails both sides of a doomed relationship so perfectly, that no matter who you see yourself as, it's a pleasure to watch.
This pleasure, for me at least, comes to fruition in two key scenes of the film. The first is a small moment that sets up the second scene, when we're led to believe that Tom and Summer could potentially get back together. It's a few seconds on a train after they've left a wedding and it seems like they're falling in love all over again. Tom is awake in his seat and Summer's head ever-so-gracefully falls on his shoulder. The look on Tom's face is one of pure joy and relief. He's done it, he's won her back, or so he thinks. It's a small gesture, yes, but in the hands of a less capable actor it could have gone way wrong. Gordon-Levitt lives in this moment and reacts accordingly.
The second scene is when Tom shows up at Summer's apartment for a party. She invited him at the wedding, they had that moment on the train, so naturally Tom thinks this is his shot at happiness. Many will remember that this is the expectations vs. reality sequence, where the left side of the screen shows what Tom thought would happen and the right shows what actually happens. It's sad, yes, but contagious in its effect. What we're left with is a broken man who has to reconcile with his own ideals.
The one love Tom still has in his life is the city of Los Angeles, which is a character in and of itself. Out of Tom's loss comes the will to pursue his dream of being an architect and letting the city that surrounds him be his constant source of inspiration. Los Angeles is shown in ways we're not used to seeing on screen; there's an affection for the city. You could almost say that Tom is having a constant affair with it. And that's just one of many charms this movie offers, especially upon repeated viewing.
Director Marc Webb uses a variety of filmmaking techniques, all of which compliment the mood and tone of the characters. There's a musical number when Tom and Summer have sex for the first time, a reference to French New Wave films when Tom is "suffering", and interviews with the characters about their thoughts on love. None of this ever takes you out of the story because it's all so complimentary of what Tom is going through. "(500) Days of Summer" is love in its richest form: it loves the characters, story and setting, but it also loves every aspect of the filmmaking process.
Monday, April 14, 2014
Californication Season Seven Premiere: "Levon"
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
The final season of Californication premiered last night and after seven years of Hank's (David Duchovny) debauchery, the show appears to be getting back on track. The first season as a whole proved that Californication was something different, a comedy that pushed the limits even for cable television, but one that had a lot of heart and soul. Many wrote the show off as being just about sex, when in fact it was anything but. As the seasons progressed, however, it was clear that the writers were more interested in sexual situation comedy, rather than the story of Hank and Karen (Natasha McElhone).
I questioned how Californication could last past a season or two and the answer was it couldn't and shouldn't have. This always was a short term story, at least for me, and while I wish things could have ended much sooner, I'm glad that this first episode in the show's conclusion indicates a return to form. It begins moments after the ending of last season, with Hank knocking on Karen's door to tell her he wants to make it work. Things don't go as planned, so Hank decides to get a job working in television. Easier said than done.
Fans of the show will remember that season five revolved around the making of the movie "Santa Monica Cop", which has now been adapted into a television series and is being run by Rick Rath (Michael Imperioli). Hank convinces Rick that he's worth hiring because of his life experience and that his pain in the ass work ethic is beside the point. "I'm on a quest to reclaim the best parts of myself before it's too late", Hank says at one point. The same can be said about Californication.
The core of the show has always been Hank and Karen's relationship, and their scenes together, sparse though they may be, always remind me of why I fell in love with the show in the first place. Duchovny and McElhone are so good that when they're together, it no longer feels like I'm watching two characters on a screen, rather, I'm a witness to two very real people having arguments and conversations that actually matter. And when the show is firing on all cylinders, the comedy comes out of the characters, not the situations they're thrown into.
Take Charlie (Evan Handler) and Marcy (Pamela Adlon) for example. They're the most unlikely couple in the series. Their chemistry is just perfect on as their co-stars and the funniest moments in "Levon" occurred when they were arguing about Charlie's erectile dysfunction. While Charlie has been the focus of ridicule throughout Californication's run, he's best served when Marcy is with him. Keeping them apart for so long was one of many missteps in the show's prolonged run, but now that they're living not-so-happily ever after, all could be forgiven. And yes, watching Charlie flounder about is always amusing, but it's having Marcy by his side that makes those scenes work. That's a testament to Adlon's comedic timing, which makes Marcy's mixture of bitter and sweet spot on.
It's that dichotomy that always made Californication work, and for too long, Tom Kapinos - the show's creator and, now, only writer - went for the wacky comedy instead of comedic character study. But for the first time in several seasons, I was laughing again and happy to see these characters for at least twelve more episodes. Let's hope that Californication, much like Hank and Karen, can get it right a second time.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Warm Bodies ★★★
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
One could argue that the premise is the Twilight equivalent for the zombie-genre and to a degree, you would be right. But Warm Bodies, while certainly a romantic comedy, never takes itself too seriously; it knows it's ridiculous. That being said, there's room for some sentimentality, if you're looking for it, as well as a simple message about embracing people's differences instead of constantly fearing them.
The film centers around a zombie named R (Nicholas Hoult), who, by his own admission, is conflicted about eating people. He provides the narration for the film, explaining that he doesn't remember his former life, only that his name began with the letter R. He has a best friend named M (a surprisingly timid, but very funny Rob Corddry) whom he mostly just grunts and moans back and forth with, and spends most of his time living in an abandoned airplane listening to vinyl records. When he and his zombie brethren go out for a routine snack, he sees Julie (Teresa Palmer) and instantly falls in love. He abducts her and the two embark on a newfound friendship shortly thereafter.
The more time R spends with Julie, the more he begins to change, eventually developing a heartbeat. The idea is that the zombie population is not just a group of human flesh-eaters, but actual people too. It's cheesy, yes, but also a lot of fun and a refreshing take on this tired genre. Hoult does a good job of delivering one-liners, both within the scene and in his narration, and is perfectly cast as the one zombie to give us a view of the world through his lens. Palmer, meanwhile, is fine but not all that memorable, and doesn't really do much except play the attractive blonde whom R has fallen for.
At times it feels like there may have been more of a movie - there's a minor subplot involving Julie's former boyfriend (Dave Franco) that never really resolves itself emotionally - but for the most part, Warm Bodies works as a fun zombie movie told from the zombie's perspective.
Warm Bodies will be released Friday, February 1st 2013
Warm Bodies will be released Friday, February 1st 2013
Saturday, January 19, 2013
A Farewell To Fringe
A Show That Brought New Meaning To The Term "Cool"
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
Last night, after five seasons and one hundred episodes, Fringe said goodbye forever. This was one of those shows that gained a cult following over the years, to the point that when it was in danger of being cancelled, the fans were able to keep it on the air. It was also - regardless of whether or not you're a science fiction nerd - one of the most unique shows to ever air on television.
For the uninitiated, Fringe was about an F.B.I. Agent named Olivia Dunham (Anna Torv) who is selected by her superior, Phillip Broyles (Lance Reddick), to be part of the Fringe Division at the F.B.I. Olivia recruits Walter Bishop (John Noble, who is absolutely brilliant), a scientist responsible for many experiments which have lead to the so called "Fringe Events", the result of which led to his incarceration in a mental institution. Lastly, Walter's son, Peter (Joshua Jackson, bringing more to the character with each season), is brought in to "translate" his father's often gibberish-like musings.
It started off slow - the first season being heavily overseen by its creators, J.J. Abrams, Alex Kurtzman and Roberto Orci - and, as a result, was a mixed bag of goodies that first year. Abrams had stated that he wanted to have a less serialized show on the air (referring to Alias and Lost), which would usually mean that there would be a handful of mythology episodes with the rest being standalone, mystery-of-the-week type episodes. Not so. Instead, (according to Abrams) there would be plot points in every episode that propelled the overall story for those who were watching every week. For those that weren't, the episodes could be viewed as their own self-contained story. In other words, Fringe began as something of a hybrid, if we're using the typical model most shows follow.
Starting with season two, however, Fringe became something more. Abrams helped map the season out, but the showrunning duties fell to Jeff Pinkner and J.H. Wyman. (Pinkner had been selected as showrunner during season one and he later promoted Wyman to co-run the show with him). From this point on, the stories - from the cases the Fringe team would investigate to the character and season arcs - became unbelievably inventive. The groundwork had been laid toward the end of season one for certain storylines that became part of the show's charm, not the least of which was the relationship between Walter and Peter.
Noble and Jackson became the perfect dynamic-duo, if you will, their characters not having anything in common at first and evolving into depending on one another. Walter, a flawed father in many ways during Peter's childhood, tries to make amends with his past. Peter, reluctant to even talk to Walter in those early episodes, comes to respect, admire and yes, love, his father. In an odd way these two become a metaphor for the show itself: learn to accept the unknown rather than reject or be afraid of it.
In addition, Olivia herself was something of a unique heroine on television. She was never exploited for her beauty, never relied on men to save her, and also never portrayed as a tomboy, a trap many shows with female leads tend to fall into. She simply was Olivia Dunham: the agent who saved the world time and time again with her Fringe-like abilities. It's not too often that writers can get a female lead so right - shows like Alias and Chuck, for example, had strong female leads but each week managed to find ways to put them in revealing clothing of some kind - and praise should be given to Pinkner, Wyman and rest of the writing staff of Fringe for creating, and maintaining, such a great character.
A show with this many plot-twists demands grounded characters like these to keep us engaged. That was never more evident than in this final season, which jumped ahead twenty years to a time when the Observers - the bald-headed, fedora-wearing, albinos who could travel through time and space to "observe" major events in human history - had taken over and where our characters, frozen in amber for 21 years, had to find a way to stop them. This final year was very much a dystopian cautionary tale, by far the darkest year of the entire series. But I, like so many others, stayed with it because no matter how dark and tragic things got, Olivia, Peter, Walter and Astrid (Jasika Nicole, Walter's assistant) were there to anchor me in some degree of familiarity.
After everything these characters lost, particularly this season, the finale episode entitled "An Enemy of Fate" was moving, action-packed, rewarding and quite simply, perfect. This was a show that was in danger of being cancelled after season two and on. Each year Fringe took more risks, exploring alternate realities, reset timelines, shape-shifters, and future insurrections. Like Peter himself, the show (by conventional standards) should have never existed, but it did, and it fought back from the brink of death each season. It was wacky, it was dark, it was funny and at times devastatingly sad.
The best way to describe the tone of this beloved show of mine can be found in a line from last night's finale, in which Peter and Walter are arming themselves to fight the Observers. Walter instructs Peter to hold on to bullets which, when they hit an Observer, will cause them to "float away like balloons". Peter asks, "If we shoot them, they're dead. Why would we want them to float away?" Walter replies (with perfect delivery by Noble), "Because it's cool."
From now on, when I'm asked why I have such affection for Fringe, that perfect line will be my response.
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
Last night, after five seasons and one hundred episodes, Fringe said goodbye forever. This was one of those shows that gained a cult following over the years, to the point that when it was in danger of being cancelled, the fans were able to keep it on the air. It was also - regardless of whether or not you're a science fiction nerd - one of the most unique shows to ever air on television.
For the uninitiated, Fringe was about an F.B.I. Agent named Olivia Dunham (Anna Torv) who is selected by her superior, Phillip Broyles (Lance Reddick), to be part of the Fringe Division at the F.B.I. Olivia recruits Walter Bishop (John Noble, who is absolutely brilliant), a scientist responsible for many experiments which have lead to the so called "Fringe Events", the result of which led to his incarceration in a mental institution. Lastly, Walter's son, Peter (Joshua Jackson, bringing more to the character with each season), is brought in to "translate" his father's often gibberish-like musings.
It started off slow - the first season being heavily overseen by its creators, J.J. Abrams, Alex Kurtzman and Roberto Orci - and, as a result, was a mixed bag of goodies that first year. Abrams had stated that he wanted to have a less serialized show on the air (referring to Alias and Lost), which would usually mean that there would be a handful of mythology episodes with the rest being standalone, mystery-of-the-week type episodes. Not so. Instead, (according to Abrams) there would be plot points in every episode that propelled the overall story for those who were watching every week. For those that weren't, the episodes could be viewed as their own self-contained story. In other words, Fringe began as something of a hybrid, if we're using the typical model most shows follow.
Starting with season two, however, Fringe became something more. Abrams helped map the season out, but the showrunning duties fell to Jeff Pinkner and J.H. Wyman. (Pinkner had been selected as showrunner during season one and he later promoted Wyman to co-run the show with him). From this point on, the stories - from the cases the Fringe team would investigate to the character and season arcs - became unbelievably inventive. The groundwork had been laid toward the end of season one for certain storylines that became part of the show's charm, not the least of which was the relationship between Walter and Peter.
Noble and Jackson became the perfect dynamic-duo, if you will, their characters not having anything in common at first and evolving into depending on one another. Walter, a flawed father in many ways during Peter's childhood, tries to make amends with his past. Peter, reluctant to even talk to Walter in those early episodes, comes to respect, admire and yes, love, his father. In an odd way these two become a metaphor for the show itself: learn to accept the unknown rather than reject or be afraid of it.
In addition, Olivia herself was something of a unique heroine on television. She was never exploited for her beauty, never relied on men to save her, and also never portrayed as a tomboy, a trap many shows with female leads tend to fall into. She simply was Olivia Dunham: the agent who saved the world time and time again with her Fringe-like abilities. It's not too often that writers can get a female lead so right - shows like Alias and Chuck, for example, had strong female leads but each week managed to find ways to put them in revealing clothing of some kind - and praise should be given to Pinkner, Wyman and rest of the writing staff of Fringe for creating, and maintaining, such a great character.
A show with this many plot-twists demands grounded characters like these to keep us engaged. That was never more evident than in this final season, which jumped ahead twenty years to a time when the Observers - the bald-headed, fedora-wearing, albinos who could travel through time and space to "observe" major events in human history - had taken over and where our characters, frozen in amber for 21 years, had to find a way to stop them. This final year was very much a dystopian cautionary tale, by far the darkest year of the entire series. But I, like so many others, stayed with it because no matter how dark and tragic things got, Olivia, Peter, Walter and Astrid (Jasika Nicole, Walter's assistant) were there to anchor me in some degree of familiarity.
After everything these characters lost, particularly this season, the finale episode entitled "An Enemy of Fate" was moving, action-packed, rewarding and quite simply, perfect. This was a show that was in danger of being cancelled after season two and on. Each year Fringe took more risks, exploring alternate realities, reset timelines, shape-shifters, and future insurrections. Like Peter himself, the show (by conventional standards) should have never existed, but it did, and it fought back from the brink of death each season. It was wacky, it was dark, it was funny and at times devastatingly sad.
The best way to describe the tone of this beloved show of mine can be found in a line from last night's finale, in which Peter and Walter are arming themselves to fight the Observers. Walter instructs Peter to hold on to bullets which, when they hit an Observer, will cause them to "float away like balloons". Peter asks, "If we shoot them, they're dead. Why would we want them to float away?" Walter replies (with perfect delivery by Noble), "Because it's cool."
From now on, when I'm asked why I have such affection for Fringe, that perfect line will be my response.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Rise Of The Guardians ★
Seeing Isn't Believing
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
A large amount of the joy I receive from the best of animated features comes from the fact that they all manage to bring something human to a story that, to the naked eye, seems like it's from a different world all together. Most recently, Wreck-It Ralph was set in the world of video games, yet anyone who saw the film probably recognized a version of themselves or someone they knew in at least one character. It's the heart of films like that and many others that make us love the possibilities animation offers. The worst in animation however, trades heart for technology, a fault that the new film Rise Of The Guardians has in spades.
The problem with Guardians is that it's all visual spectacle and very little story. Director Peter Ramsey seems like he's only interested in the freedom animation offers, delivering sweeping shots over rooftops during the film's many, many action sequences, and never allowing the camera to stay stationary for a moment's breath. What little story there is involves Jack Frost (Chris Pine) being chosen to help the other Guardians - North (Alec Baldwin), Bunnymund (Hugh Jackman), Tooth (Isla Fisher) and Sandy, or, as they're all more commonly known, Santa, The Easter Bunny, The Tooth Fairy and Sandman - defend themselves against Pitch, otherwise known as The Boogeyman who's voiced by Jude Law. Pitch has found a way to bring terror and nightmares back into the minds of children, growing more powerful with every success. His goal is to rob children of their belief in all of these characters thereby taking away the Guardians' power and being free to corrupt the world.
It's an easy enough plot to get behind and not much more than that. Sure, they throw in Jack's identity crisis (he can't remember who he was before he became Jack Frost) and forcibly try to make his story the one we're interested in, but he's the weakest character of the bunch. And by weak, I mean both in character development and animation. One could argue that it was the animators' point to make Jack so inhuman, as he's not even believed in by any of the children, but the animation is so lifeless that it just looks lazy. Whereas the other characters in the story, particularly North, have such grandiose features it's a shame they were not part of a better movie.
What Rise Of The Guardians ends up feeling like is the collision of too many ideas that do not fit together at all. I get that each of the Guardians come from different worlds and therefore need their own distinct look, but it seems as though attention and favoritism was paid to the characters the filmmaker's felt they could have the most fun with, in this case, North. His design and features look gorgeous, and the detail of the North Pole is different than most are used to seeing - one amusing difference is that Yetis make the toys, not the elves because well, they're not right in the head. Pitch meanwhile looks like something out of the art-deco era (which I actually didn't mind, except for the fact that it doesn't work within the film) and Bunnymund just looks like a standard Rabbit.
I don't think Ramsey was the best choice of a director for a movie like this (it's also his first feature) mainly due to the fact that Guardians seems directionless. There are simply too many separate ideas about the animation going on for the story to function well. The designs for all of the characters are so separate that they don't work in the same movie. I feel especially bad for Jack Frost, given that the premise is supposed to be all about him, yet Ramsey and Co. seem awfully uninterested in him. It's no wonder the children don't believe in him; the filmmakers don't either.
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
A large amount of the joy I receive from the best of animated features comes from the fact that they all manage to bring something human to a story that, to the naked eye, seems like it's from a different world all together. Most recently, Wreck-It Ralph was set in the world of video games, yet anyone who saw the film probably recognized a version of themselves or someone they knew in at least one character. It's the heart of films like that and many others that make us love the possibilities animation offers. The worst in animation however, trades heart for technology, a fault that the new film Rise Of The Guardians has in spades.
The problem with Guardians is that it's all visual spectacle and very little story. Director Peter Ramsey seems like he's only interested in the freedom animation offers, delivering sweeping shots over rooftops during the film's many, many action sequences, and never allowing the camera to stay stationary for a moment's breath. What little story there is involves Jack Frost (Chris Pine) being chosen to help the other Guardians - North (Alec Baldwin), Bunnymund (Hugh Jackman), Tooth (Isla Fisher) and Sandy, or, as they're all more commonly known, Santa, The Easter Bunny, The Tooth Fairy and Sandman - defend themselves against Pitch, otherwise known as The Boogeyman who's voiced by Jude Law. Pitch has found a way to bring terror and nightmares back into the minds of children, growing more powerful with every success. His goal is to rob children of their belief in all of these characters thereby taking away the Guardians' power and being free to corrupt the world.
It's an easy enough plot to get behind and not much more than that. Sure, they throw in Jack's identity crisis (he can't remember who he was before he became Jack Frost) and forcibly try to make his story the one we're interested in, but he's the weakest character of the bunch. And by weak, I mean both in character development and animation. One could argue that it was the animators' point to make Jack so inhuman, as he's not even believed in by any of the children, but the animation is so lifeless that it just looks lazy. Whereas the other characters in the story, particularly North, have such grandiose features it's a shame they were not part of a better movie.
What Rise Of The Guardians ends up feeling like is the collision of too many ideas that do not fit together at all. I get that each of the Guardians come from different worlds and therefore need their own distinct look, but it seems as though attention and favoritism was paid to the characters the filmmaker's felt they could have the most fun with, in this case, North. His design and features look gorgeous, and the detail of the North Pole is different than most are used to seeing - one amusing difference is that Yetis make the toys, not the elves because well, they're not right in the head. Pitch meanwhile looks like something out of the art-deco era (which I actually didn't mind, except for the fact that it doesn't work within the film) and Bunnymund just looks like a standard Rabbit.
I don't think Ramsey was the best choice of a director for a movie like this (it's also his first feature) mainly due to the fact that Guardians seems directionless. There are simply too many separate ideas about the animation going on for the story to function well. The designs for all of the characters are so separate that they don't work in the same movie. I feel especially bad for Jack Frost, given that the premise is supposed to be all about him, yet Ramsey and Co. seem awfully uninterested in him. It's no wonder the children don't believe in him; the filmmakers don't either.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Wreck-It Ralph ★★★★
A Lovable Animated Character of the 8-bit Kind
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
Growing up, my console of choice was Sega Genesis and the game I spent countless hours trying to conquer was Sonic the Hedgehog. Sonic and I were a great team until, of course, I accidentally made him jump onto a row of spikes or bash into a badnik, at which point we would start the level over. Eventually we would reach the third act of a level and be forced to defeat the maniacal Dr. Robotnik, thereby saving the helpless animals he had trapped in machines. I watched Robotnik explode thousands of times, never thinking that Robotnik may have grown tired of always being the bad guy and never getting the spotlight Sonic did. I should have been more considerate.
The writers of Wreck-It Ralph obviously had these concerns in mind while growing up, as this charming film is all about the existential crisis of Ralph (John C. Reilly), the title character and villain to a video game called Fix-It Felix, Jr., wherein Ralph breaks down buildings that Felix (Jack McBrayer) must repair in order to win the game. It's now the thirtieth anniversary of the game's release, and Ralph has had enough of the lonely life his role offers him. He wants to be the hero everyone roots for as opposed to the lug that other characters are afraid of. He's even in a villain support group (which includes Dr. Robotnik) because of his dilemma.
When Ralph decides he's had enough, he determines that the best way to be seen as a hero is to win a medal from one of the other arcade games. The game of his choice, as fate would have it, is a first-person shooter game called Hero's Duty, which involves destroying thousands of alien bugs. Things don't go as planned, and, by way of escape pod, Ralph lands in an entirely different game known as Sugar Rush, a racing game whose landscape is made up of so much candy and chocolate that I may have a cavity just from having seen this movie. From this point on, Ralph is on a quest for his medal, which is now lost in the abyss of Sugar Rush, while also trying to prove his heroism by helping out a glitch in Sugar Rush named Vanellope von Schweetz (Sarah Silverman), a 12-year-old who, like Ralph, is frowned upon for being different. Those differences are precisely what make these characters and the film itself so special.
At times, the idea of embracing one's uniqueness borders on being "too Disney" for older audiences like myself. But happily, Wreck-It Ralph has such a refreshing style and look about it that I found myself forgiving its hammer-over-the-head message and loving it for all that it is. That is, a film that has as much charm, joy and laughter as everything great that Pixar has ever created (Up, Toy Story 3, Finding Nemo, to name a few) and then some.
Part of that comes from the approach the filmmakers chose, which was making the world of a video games and the characters that inhabit them something to be taken seriously, but not too seriously. The screenplay by Phil Johnston and Jennifer Lee is so obviously personal that there's no way audiences can't relate to the material in some way. The director, Rich Moore, whose credits include episodes of The Simpsons and Futurama, understands comedy and uses that knowledge to the film's advantage. Any other director may have gone too far in one direction, but thankfully, Moore is the perfect choice to bring these characters to life.
Inhabiting those characters, in addition to Reilly, Silverman and McBrayer are Jane Lynch as Sergeant Tamora Jean Calhoun, the leader of the characters in Hero's Duty and the object of Felix's desires, and Alan Tudyk, hilarious and incredibly creepy as King Candy, the leader and true villain of the movie. Each of these actors are cast perfectly, bringing something truly human to each of their characters, enlivening the comedy in every scene they are in.
In addition to the characters themselves, the animation is top-notch. Both the 8-bit and modern animation work perfectly together making the film feel nostalgic but also of its time. The colors are extremely vivid, especially in Sugar Rush, while the darker tones of Hero's Duty make it feel like you're actually in an Alien movie. Fix-It Felix, Jr., meanwhile, reminds me of another one of my favorite games, Rampage, in which monsters destroy dozens of city buildings.
Wreck-It Ralph is one of the surprising delights of the year and one audiences of all ages can enjoy. It also includes an animated short feature called Paperman, a brilliant, dialogue-free movie about a man who uses paper planes to get the attention of a woman he saw for only a moment on the morning train. It's a beautiful story, and one that works perfectly with Wreck-It Ralph's themes.
I think it's time that I play one of the Sonic games again, albeit with more consideration for Dr. Robotnik's feelings of being blown up by a hedgehog.
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
Growing up, my console of choice was Sega Genesis and the game I spent countless hours trying to conquer was Sonic the Hedgehog. Sonic and I were a great team until, of course, I accidentally made him jump onto a row of spikes or bash into a badnik, at which point we would start the level over. Eventually we would reach the third act of a level and be forced to defeat the maniacal Dr. Robotnik, thereby saving the helpless animals he had trapped in machines. I watched Robotnik explode thousands of times, never thinking that Robotnik may have grown tired of always being the bad guy and never getting the spotlight Sonic did. I should have been more considerate.
The writers of Wreck-It Ralph obviously had these concerns in mind while growing up, as this charming film is all about the existential crisis of Ralph (John C. Reilly), the title character and villain to a video game called Fix-It Felix, Jr., wherein Ralph breaks down buildings that Felix (Jack McBrayer) must repair in order to win the game. It's now the thirtieth anniversary of the game's release, and Ralph has had enough of the lonely life his role offers him. He wants to be the hero everyone roots for as opposed to the lug that other characters are afraid of. He's even in a villain support group (which includes Dr. Robotnik) because of his dilemma.
When Ralph decides he's had enough, he determines that the best way to be seen as a hero is to win a medal from one of the other arcade games. The game of his choice, as fate would have it, is a first-person shooter game called Hero's Duty, which involves destroying thousands of alien bugs. Things don't go as planned, and, by way of escape pod, Ralph lands in an entirely different game known as Sugar Rush, a racing game whose landscape is made up of so much candy and chocolate that I may have a cavity just from having seen this movie. From this point on, Ralph is on a quest for his medal, which is now lost in the abyss of Sugar Rush, while also trying to prove his heroism by helping out a glitch in Sugar Rush named Vanellope von Schweetz (Sarah Silverman), a 12-year-old who, like Ralph, is frowned upon for being different. Those differences are precisely what make these characters and the film itself so special.
At times, the idea of embracing one's uniqueness borders on being "too Disney" for older audiences like myself. But happily, Wreck-It Ralph has such a refreshing style and look about it that I found myself forgiving its hammer-over-the-head message and loving it for all that it is. That is, a film that has as much charm, joy and laughter as everything great that Pixar has ever created (Up, Toy Story 3, Finding Nemo, to name a few) and then some.
Part of that comes from the approach the filmmakers chose, which was making the world of a video games and the characters that inhabit them something to be taken seriously, but not too seriously. The screenplay by Phil Johnston and Jennifer Lee is so obviously personal that there's no way audiences can't relate to the material in some way. The director, Rich Moore, whose credits include episodes of The Simpsons and Futurama, understands comedy and uses that knowledge to the film's advantage. Any other director may have gone too far in one direction, but thankfully, Moore is the perfect choice to bring these characters to life.
Inhabiting those characters, in addition to Reilly, Silverman and McBrayer are Jane Lynch as Sergeant Tamora Jean Calhoun, the leader of the characters in Hero's Duty and the object of Felix's desires, and Alan Tudyk, hilarious and incredibly creepy as King Candy, the leader and true villain of the movie. Each of these actors are cast perfectly, bringing something truly human to each of their characters, enlivening the comedy in every scene they are in.
In addition to the characters themselves, the animation is top-notch. Both the 8-bit and modern animation work perfectly together making the film feel nostalgic but also of its time. The colors are extremely vivid, especially in Sugar Rush, while the darker tones of Hero's Duty make it feel like you're actually in an Alien movie. Fix-It Felix, Jr., meanwhile, reminds me of another one of my favorite games, Rampage, in which monsters destroy dozens of city buildings.
Wreck-It Ralph is one of the surprising delights of the year and one audiences of all ages can enjoy. It also includes an animated short feature called Paperman, a brilliant, dialogue-free movie about a man who uses paper planes to get the attention of a woman he saw for only a moment on the morning train. It's a beautiful story, and one that works perfectly with Wreck-It Ralph's themes.
I think it's time that I play one of the Sonic games again, albeit with more consideration for Dr. Robotnik's feelings of being blown up by a hedgehog.
Monday, October 8, 2012
Seven Psychopaths ★★½
A Comedy About Movie Violence... Sort of
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
Here's a free lesson from Screenwriting 101: Whenever there's a writer as one of the characters in a movie, you can be sure that the director is giving us their own opinions about a certain subject within the context of the film. Your enjoyment of Seven Psychopaths, the latest film from writer/director Martin McDonagh, will depend entirely on whether or not you think McDonagh's commentary about movie violence works.
The writer in Seven Psychopaths is named Marty (Colin Farrell, who's actually quite funny the film) - who in absolutely no way is a reference do Mr. McDonagh - a nice guy struggling with a screenplay called Seven Psychopaths. It's a great title, but a movie about psychopaths doesn't really appeal to Marty, much to the dismay of his best friend, Billy (the always reliable Sam Rockwell), an actor and part-time dog thief. Billy is excited at the idea of a movie about psychopaths and is looking for any way he can help Marty out of his funk. As fate would have it, he steals the dog of a violent gangster named Charlie (Woody Harrelson), forcing himself, Hans (his partner in crime played by Christopher Walken, need I say more?) and Marty to get out of town fast.
Seven Psychopaths isn't a bad movie, it just loses itself within its own plot. There are moments in the movie that are quite funny, which works to the film's advantage in trying to point out the ridiculous nature of screen violence. There are also very dark moments involving Walken's story that clash with the comic tone the film seems intent on maintaining. They feel false, especially because the film is established as a comedy from the very beginning.
I was disappointed by Seven Psychopaths' ever shifting tone and expected more out of a film as meta as this one. There are scenes that recall what a gifted comedy director McDonagh but they're short lived as a result of his need to show us that movie violence is a problem in modern cinema. I get what he's trying to do, but I don't think he's the right filmmaker to execute these ideas properly.
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
Here's a free lesson from Screenwriting 101: Whenever there's a writer as one of the characters in a movie, you can be sure that the director is giving us their own opinions about a certain subject within the context of the film. Your enjoyment of Seven Psychopaths, the latest film from writer/director Martin McDonagh, will depend entirely on whether or not you think McDonagh's commentary about movie violence works.
The writer in Seven Psychopaths is named Marty (Colin Farrell, who's actually quite funny the film) - who in absolutely no way is a reference do Mr. McDonagh - a nice guy struggling with a screenplay called Seven Psychopaths. It's a great title, but a movie about psychopaths doesn't really appeal to Marty, much to the dismay of his best friend, Billy (the always reliable Sam Rockwell), an actor and part-time dog thief. Billy is excited at the idea of a movie about psychopaths and is looking for any way he can help Marty out of his funk. As fate would have it, he steals the dog of a violent gangster named Charlie (Woody Harrelson), forcing himself, Hans (his partner in crime played by Christopher Walken, need I say more?) and Marty to get out of town fast.
Seven Psychopaths isn't a bad movie, it just loses itself within its own plot. There are moments in the movie that are quite funny, which works to the film's advantage in trying to point out the ridiculous nature of screen violence. There are also very dark moments involving Walken's story that clash with the comic tone the film seems intent on maintaining. They feel false, especially because the film is established as a comedy from the very beginning.
I was disappointed by Seven Psychopaths' ever shifting tone and expected more out of a film as meta as this one. There are scenes that recall what a gifted comedy director McDonagh but they're short lived as a result of his need to show us that movie violence is a problem in modern cinema. I get what he's trying to do, but I don't think he's the right filmmaker to execute these ideas properly.
Friday, October 5, 2012
Silver Linings Playbook ★★★★
A Playbook of Great Filmmaking
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
Unconventional comedies seem to be on the rise as the end of 2012 approaches. We've had The Sessions, a sex comedy about polio, and now Silver Linings Playbook, a comedy (of sorts) about mental illness.
Bradley Cooper stars as Pat Solitano, a bipolar, former substitute teacher, who has just been released from a mental institution after eight months. The reason for his time has to do with an affair his wife had and the beating he gave her lover as a result. During his stay he learned that there are silver linings to everything and that if he remains positive, good things will happen - at least that's what he keeps telling himself.
He comes home to live with his parents, played nicely by Robert De Niro and Jacki Weaver. His father is a sports nut who recently lost his pension and bets what little money he has on The Philadelphia Eagles. He superstitiously believes Pat to be a good luck charm, imploring Pat to watch the games with him. Pat, however, is preoccupied with ways that he can try to win his wife back, even though she has a restraining order on him. Later, at a dinner party, he meets Tiffany (Jennifer Lawrence), a widow who offers to help him in his quest if he agrees to be her dance partner in an upcoming competition.
Lawrence delivers yet another Oscar-worthy performance, nearly stealing the movie from everyone else involved. She plays Tiffany with absolute conviction, bringing out the ferocity and sincerity of her character. She's sexy, smart and damaged, searching - perhaps in all the wrong places - for a connection in the wake of her husband's death. Her scenes with Cooper, which take up a majority of the film, are what truly make this movie great, allowing both actors to showcase their skills just by having a conversation.
It's also nice to see Bradley Cooper doing something we haven't seen before, finally getting a role he deserves. Pat is not an easy part to play, to say the least, as he has to be manic, confused, scared, compassionate, inappropriate and likable all at the same time. He is, after all, bipolar. Cooper doesn't shy away from bringing out the crazy. In one scene that's effectively difficult to watch, Pat goes berserk in the middle of the night searching for his wedding video, accidentally hitting his mom in the process. Your heart breaks for him, yet you can't help but be frightened of him at the same time. He's doing the best that he can in service of his newfound philosophy.
His attitude, and resulting actions, are what make Silver Linings special. Everyone within the story wants to be better, even if it's at times motivated by selfishness: Pat wants his wife back and does kind things to show her that he's changed; Tiffany wants Pat to fall in love with her, begrudgingly helping him so that he'll be her dance partner; and Pat's father wants Pat to watch the Eagles games with him, under the guise of superstition, but really just to spend time with his son. They're trying to do the right thing and good things start happening as a result.
This is a film that doesn't shy away from its own optimism; it relishes in it. When it begins, you have no hope for Pat or the other characters. They all seem beyond help, yet as the movie progresses you see what each character brings out in the other and gradually become more invested in their triumph over their struggles. It's the sincere kind of film that, were he alive today, Frank Capra (director of It's A Wonderful Life) would surely have directed, and one that would have been considered one of his many "Capra-corns".
Instead, the directing duties fall to David O. Russell, who brings a certain style to the story (which he adapted from the novel by Matthew Quick) better than Capra could have in many ways. He shoots mostly in closeup, conveying the discomfort and claustrophobia of Pat's character feeling like he's being smothered. These closeups also bring out the insanity we all feel when we've been around our family for too long, which is perfect for this story. Russell seems to be telling us that no matter how normal any of us think we are, we're all a little bit crazy.
Russell has made a terrific film and, like the best of Capra's work, has delivered a message we shouldn't roll our eyes at and instead wholeheartedly embrace. A tour de force of both acting and directing, Silver Linings Playbook illustrates the power and inspiration that great filmmaking can achieve.
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
Unconventional comedies seem to be on the rise as the end of 2012 approaches. We've had The Sessions, a sex comedy about polio, and now Silver Linings Playbook, a comedy (of sorts) about mental illness.
Bradley Cooper stars as Pat Solitano, a bipolar, former substitute teacher, who has just been released from a mental institution after eight months. The reason for his time has to do with an affair his wife had and the beating he gave her lover as a result. During his stay he learned that there are silver linings to everything and that if he remains positive, good things will happen - at least that's what he keeps telling himself.
He comes home to live with his parents, played nicely by Robert De Niro and Jacki Weaver. His father is a sports nut who recently lost his pension and bets what little money he has on The Philadelphia Eagles. He superstitiously believes Pat to be a good luck charm, imploring Pat to watch the games with him. Pat, however, is preoccupied with ways that he can try to win his wife back, even though she has a restraining order on him. Later, at a dinner party, he meets Tiffany (Jennifer Lawrence), a widow who offers to help him in his quest if he agrees to be her dance partner in an upcoming competition.
Lawrence delivers yet another Oscar-worthy performance, nearly stealing the movie from everyone else involved. She plays Tiffany with absolute conviction, bringing out the ferocity and sincerity of her character. She's sexy, smart and damaged, searching - perhaps in all the wrong places - for a connection in the wake of her husband's death. Her scenes with Cooper, which take up a majority of the film, are what truly make this movie great, allowing both actors to showcase their skills just by having a conversation.
It's also nice to see Bradley Cooper doing something we haven't seen before, finally getting a role he deserves. Pat is not an easy part to play, to say the least, as he has to be manic, confused, scared, compassionate, inappropriate and likable all at the same time. He is, after all, bipolar. Cooper doesn't shy away from bringing out the crazy. In one scene that's effectively difficult to watch, Pat goes berserk in the middle of the night searching for his wedding video, accidentally hitting his mom in the process. Your heart breaks for him, yet you can't help but be frightened of him at the same time. He's doing the best that he can in service of his newfound philosophy.
His attitude, and resulting actions, are what make Silver Linings special. Everyone within the story wants to be better, even if it's at times motivated by selfishness: Pat wants his wife back and does kind things to show her that he's changed; Tiffany wants Pat to fall in love with her, begrudgingly helping him so that he'll be her dance partner; and Pat's father wants Pat to watch the Eagles games with him, under the guise of superstition, but really just to spend time with his son. They're trying to do the right thing and good things start happening as a result.
This is a film that doesn't shy away from its own optimism; it relishes in it. When it begins, you have no hope for Pat or the other characters. They all seem beyond help, yet as the movie progresses you see what each character brings out in the other and gradually become more invested in their triumph over their struggles. It's the sincere kind of film that, were he alive today, Frank Capra (director of It's A Wonderful Life) would surely have directed, and one that would have been considered one of his many "Capra-corns".
Instead, the directing duties fall to David O. Russell, who brings a certain style to the story (which he adapted from the novel by Matthew Quick) better than Capra could have in many ways. He shoots mostly in closeup, conveying the discomfort and claustrophobia of Pat's character feeling like he's being smothered. These closeups also bring out the insanity we all feel when we've been around our family for too long, which is perfect for this story. Russell seems to be telling us that no matter how normal any of us think we are, we're all a little bit crazy.
Russell has made a terrific film and, like the best of Capra's work, has delivered a message we shouldn't roll our eyes at and instead wholeheartedly embrace. A tour de force of both acting and directing, Silver Linings Playbook illustrates the power and inspiration that great filmmaking can achieve.
The Sessions ★★★
Polio Is No Obstacle In A Man's Quest To Have Sex
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
A comedy about a polio survivor trying to lose his virginity is not a sentence I thought I would ever use to describe a film, but The Sessions is exactly that.
John Hawkes stars as Mark O'Brien, a man who lives his life inside an iron lung, save for the few hours a day he is able to breathe on his own. As a child, he contracted polio and has been paralyzed from the neck down ever since. He's also a devout Catholic, routinely confessing to his priest, Father Brendan (William H. Macy), who gives him advice and also serves as perhaps Mark's closest friend. When Mark decides he wants to lose his virginity at thirty eight years of age, he's put in touch with a sex surrogate named Cheryl (Helen Hunt) who tells him that they will have a total of six sessions, each one furthering his sexual experience.
The film is based on an article written by the real-life O'Brien about these sessions, and it turns out to be quite funny. Like some of the best comedies about teenagers trying to lose their virginity, The Sessions takes that idea and applies it to an area that most films tend to shy away from: the sexual desires of an older man who has never experienced a woman's touch as a result of his handicap. It's an idea that when first heard, you tend to tilt your head and think about it for a second, before realizing that it's brilliant and quite refreshing given the current state of comedies about sex.
Hawkes is fearless as Mark and he gives a beautiful performance as this man who underneath it all just wants to meet the right woman. He's charming, caring and, like a teenager getting to experience sex for the first time, is quite misguided. In the first act of the film it seems as though Mark will fall for any beautiful woman that gives him attention, but it's not because he's shallow, rather, he thinks it's love. There's considerable precision for an actor to have in a role like this and Hawkes nails it. You feel for Mark and can't help but remember your own experiences (we've all had them) where you thought attention meant something more than it was. It's all due to how Hawkes makes Mark relatable to the audience, however foreign his circumstances seem.
In addition, he's incredibly funny in the role. There's a sense of joy and wonder to Mark that's completely genuine and incredibly infectious. The key to all of the comedy that ensues is Hawkes' decision to play every scene straight, instead of trying to push something funny. His reactions are all real, as opposed to going for, say, a punchline in certain scenes. He trusts that the comedy is there in the script and stays true to his take on Mark being a guy who is simply eager to experience something new.
Playing off of what Hawkes does in these scenes are Hunt and Macy, both terrific in their roles. Cheryl is not a character you would immediately associate with Ms. Hunt, but what she brings to the role immediately reveals why she's perfect for the role. In Cheryl's first scene with Mark, she's completely nude and explains the rules of their relationship in a very casual manner, achieving both a vulnerability and a commanding nature to the character. Hunt is fearless as Cheryl and is quite the perfect match for Mark's awkward inexperience.
Mr. Macy on the other hand makes the decision to play Father Brendan as a friend to Mark first, his priest second, and that works in the film's favor. Father Brendan is new at the church, and from the moment he and Mark first meet, there's instant chemistry, which hints that Mark has never really had a best friend to talk to about what he's feeling. Macy also helps to bring out some of the comedy, specifically in his reactions to Mark's sexual desires.
It's the three leads that make The Sessions an enjoyable film, as well as the decision by writer/director Ben Lewin (a polio survivor himself) to make the film a comedy, even if, at times, Lewin seems to struggle with tone. There are scenes in the movie - such as one involving Cheryl's theory that Mark blames himself for his sister's death as a child and as a result he feels undeserving of pleasure - that suggest a much darker film. I had the sense that there was a story Lewin wanted to explore further but decided to abandon in favor of a more lighthearted tale.
Furthermore the ending is a mixed bag of emotions and feels more abrupt than natural. Without spoiling what happens, I'll say that a character who ends up being significant to Mark shows up in the last five minutes of the movie, and you can't help but ask why that person is not introduced much earlier and explored a little more. Lewin seems to abandon the comedy and go straight for the heart instead of maintaining the feel good nature of the story. It's this tonal shift that prevents the film from being great, which is unfortunate considering how good the rest of the film is.
The actors made me forgive this misstep at the end of the film, enough to still call The Sessions a good movie. Hawkes continues to prove what an amazing, talented actor he is with every new role and Mark is the perfect vehicle for Hawkes to showcase these skills. It's a film that's saved by the actors involved, all of whom bring a certain commitment to their roles that is both admirable and enjoyable. If you're in the mood for an unconventional sexual comedy, The Sessions will surely lift your spirits.
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
A comedy about a polio survivor trying to lose his virginity is not a sentence I thought I would ever use to describe a film, but The Sessions is exactly that.
John Hawkes stars as Mark O'Brien, a man who lives his life inside an iron lung, save for the few hours a day he is able to breathe on his own. As a child, he contracted polio and has been paralyzed from the neck down ever since. He's also a devout Catholic, routinely confessing to his priest, Father Brendan (William H. Macy), who gives him advice and also serves as perhaps Mark's closest friend. When Mark decides he wants to lose his virginity at thirty eight years of age, he's put in touch with a sex surrogate named Cheryl (Helen Hunt) who tells him that they will have a total of six sessions, each one furthering his sexual experience.
The film is based on an article written by the real-life O'Brien about these sessions, and it turns out to be quite funny. Like some of the best comedies about teenagers trying to lose their virginity, The Sessions takes that idea and applies it to an area that most films tend to shy away from: the sexual desires of an older man who has never experienced a woman's touch as a result of his handicap. It's an idea that when first heard, you tend to tilt your head and think about it for a second, before realizing that it's brilliant and quite refreshing given the current state of comedies about sex.
Hawkes is fearless as Mark and he gives a beautiful performance as this man who underneath it all just wants to meet the right woman. He's charming, caring and, like a teenager getting to experience sex for the first time, is quite misguided. In the first act of the film it seems as though Mark will fall for any beautiful woman that gives him attention, but it's not because he's shallow, rather, he thinks it's love. There's considerable precision for an actor to have in a role like this and Hawkes nails it. You feel for Mark and can't help but remember your own experiences (we've all had them) where you thought attention meant something more than it was. It's all due to how Hawkes makes Mark relatable to the audience, however foreign his circumstances seem.
In addition, he's incredibly funny in the role. There's a sense of joy and wonder to Mark that's completely genuine and incredibly infectious. The key to all of the comedy that ensues is Hawkes' decision to play every scene straight, instead of trying to push something funny. His reactions are all real, as opposed to going for, say, a punchline in certain scenes. He trusts that the comedy is there in the script and stays true to his take on Mark being a guy who is simply eager to experience something new.
Playing off of what Hawkes does in these scenes are Hunt and Macy, both terrific in their roles. Cheryl is not a character you would immediately associate with Ms. Hunt, but what she brings to the role immediately reveals why she's perfect for the role. In Cheryl's first scene with Mark, she's completely nude and explains the rules of their relationship in a very casual manner, achieving both a vulnerability and a commanding nature to the character. Hunt is fearless as Cheryl and is quite the perfect match for Mark's awkward inexperience.
Mr. Macy on the other hand makes the decision to play Father Brendan as a friend to Mark first, his priest second, and that works in the film's favor. Father Brendan is new at the church, and from the moment he and Mark first meet, there's instant chemistry, which hints that Mark has never really had a best friend to talk to about what he's feeling. Macy also helps to bring out some of the comedy, specifically in his reactions to Mark's sexual desires.
It's the three leads that make The Sessions an enjoyable film, as well as the decision by writer/director Ben Lewin (a polio survivor himself) to make the film a comedy, even if, at times, Lewin seems to struggle with tone. There are scenes in the movie - such as one involving Cheryl's theory that Mark blames himself for his sister's death as a child and as a result he feels undeserving of pleasure - that suggest a much darker film. I had the sense that there was a story Lewin wanted to explore further but decided to abandon in favor of a more lighthearted tale.
Furthermore the ending is a mixed bag of emotions and feels more abrupt than natural. Without spoiling what happens, I'll say that a character who ends up being significant to Mark shows up in the last five minutes of the movie, and you can't help but ask why that person is not introduced much earlier and explored a little more. Lewin seems to abandon the comedy and go straight for the heart instead of maintaining the feel good nature of the story. It's this tonal shift that prevents the film from being great, which is unfortunate considering how good the rest of the film is.
The actors made me forgive this misstep at the end of the film, enough to still call The Sessions a good movie. Hawkes continues to prove what an amazing, talented actor he is with every new role and Mark is the perfect vehicle for Hawkes to showcase these skills. It's a film that's saved by the actors involved, all of whom bring a certain commitment to their roles that is both admirable and enjoyable. If you're in the mood for an unconventional sexual comedy, The Sessions will surely lift your spirits.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
ParaNorman ★★★½
Funny, Scary and Heartfelt
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
These days it seems like there are too many zombies and ghosts populating both the big and small screen. On top of that there's an overabundance of animated films that are less than stellar, begging the question of whether or not these types of films have run their course. Happily, a film like ParaNorman reminds us that there's a lot to love in both genres, but that maybe the best form for both to exist is in stop-motion animation.
The film focuses on Norman (Kodi Smit-McPhee), a young man who can see dead people and, as a result, is outcast by his peers and his family. Misunderstood would be an understatement, as the only person who truly understands Norman is his deceased grandmother, voiced by Elaine Stritch. Norman finds a new friend in Neil (Tucker Albrizzi) but his brief happiness is interrupted when he is informed by his crazy uncle (John Goodman) that a curse will befall the town at midnight unless Norman performs a ritual to stop it. When he fails to do so, a group of zombies is summoned to wreak havoc on the small town until Norman can figure out how to stop them.
The joy of ParaNorman comes from its healthy mixture of genres, delivering moments that are simultaneously hilarious and creepy, such as the scene in which Norman discovers his uncle's dead body. It grosses you out and makes you laugh uncomfortably at the same time. There are also scenes with genuine heart on display as exemplified when Norman's sister, Courtney (Anna Kendrick), sticks up for him for the first time, or when his grandmother confesses to staying behind on Earth as a ghost so that she could always protect him. We don't see horror comedies with emotional resonance like this that often. In its opening scenes alone there's a grindhouse-like design to the title cards that display the filmmakers' love and respect for the genre. It's a film that gets everything it's going for right. It's fun, earnest and has the best understanding of the zombie genre that I've seen as of late.
Furthermore, the animation on display is something to admire. The directors, Sam Fell and Chris Butler, have found a way to seamlessly match stop-motion with computer effects to the point where it's hard to tell which scenes used what format, especially in the film's finale. In addition, the character and production design is something from another world. Everything is just slightly different from our world - perspectives are shifted and nothing is symmetrical - giving the film a truly original feel. Enhancing the animation is the cinematography by Tristan Oliver serving the film's ghostly, spooky feel it's going for.
We go to the movies to be transported into the world offered to us by the filmmaker. We hope to be taken out of our everyday lives and to forget about our own problems, even if it's only for a short time. ParaNorman is a film that does this effortlessly in its simplicity. Sure, we've heard this story a million times, but it's not often that it's told right. ParaNorman invites us into its otherworldliness with open arms and gives us everything we could ask for.
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
These days it seems like there are too many zombies and ghosts populating both the big and small screen. On top of that there's an overabundance of animated films that are less than stellar, begging the question of whether or not these types of films have run their course. Happily, a film like ParaNorman reminds us that there's a lot to love in both genres, but that maybe the best form for both to exist is in stop-motion animation.
The film focuses on Norman (Kodi Smit-McPhee), a young man who can see dead people and, as a result, is outcast by his peers and his family. Misunderstood would be an understatement, as the only person who truly understands Norman is his deceased grandmother, voiced by Elaine Stritch. Norman finds a new friend in Neil (Tucker Albrizzi) but his brief happiness is interrupted when he is informed by his crazy uncle (John Goodman) that a curse will befall the town at midnight unless Norman performs a ritual to stop it. When he fails to do so, a group of zombies is summoned to wreak havoc on the small town until Norman can figure out how to stop them.
The joy of ParaNorman comes from its healthy mixture of genres, delivering moments that are simultaneously hilarious and creepy, such as the scene in which Norman discovers his uncle's dead body. It grosses you out and makes you laugh uncomfortably at the same time. There are also scenes with genuine heart on display as exemplified when Norman's sister, Courtney (Anna Kendrick), sticks up for him for the first time, or when his grandmother confesses to staying behind on Earth as a ghost so that she could always protect him. We don't see horror comedies with emotional resonance like this that often. In its opening scenes alone there's a grindhouse-like design to the title cards that display the filmmakers' love and respect for the genre. It's a film that gets everything it's going for right. It's fun, earnest and has the best understanding of the zombie genre that I've seen as of late.
Furthermore, the animation on display is something to admire. The directors, Sam Fell and Chris Butler, have found a way to seamlessly match stop-motion with computer effects to the point where it's hard to tell which scenes used what format, especially in the film's finale. In addition, the character and production design is something from another world. Everything is just slightly different from our world - perspectives are shifted and nothing is symmetrical - giving the film a truly original feel. Enhancing the animation is the cinematography by Tristan Oliver serving the film's ghostly, spooky feel it's going for.
We go to the movies to be transported into the world offered to us by the filmmaker. We hope to be taken out of our everyday lives and to forget about our own problems, even if it's only for a short time. ParaNorman is a film that does this effortlessly in its simplicity. Sure, we've heard this story a million times, but it's not often that it's told right. ParaNorman invites us into its otherworldliness with open arms and gives us everything we could ask for.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Your Sister's Sister ★
This Is What Talking Around Different Tables Looks Like
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
Early on in Your Sister's Sister, the new film from writer/director Lynn Shelton, you get the sense that there's a better story to tell than the one the the film ultimately ends up exploring.
Jack, played by Mark Duplass, is still grieving over the death of his brother after a year, so his best friend, Iris (Emily Blunt), suggests that he retreat to her family's cabin on an island off the Washington coast to recover.
Isolation, it seems, is the best medicine when one already feels utterly alone.
Once Jack arrives, however, he finds the cabin already occupied by Hannah (Rosemarie DeWitt), Iris's lesbian, vegan sister. It doesn't take very long for Jack and Hannah to become drinking buddies, as Hannah has just walked out on a seven-year relationship and Jack takes comfort in meeting someone more miserable than he's been. Inevitably the two decide in their drunken stupor that the best option is to sleep with one another.
The rest of the film involves what I assume Shelton and Co. thought were funny ways that Jack and Hannah try to keep their affair a secret from Iris, who shows up the following morning to surprise Jack. As I watched I kept wondering why Jack was so concerned about Iris finding out about what happened with Hannah. Iris, after all, was Jack's brother's girlfriend so the stakes never seem that high as to warrant most of ninety-minute runtime to be devoted to guarding this secret.
It's the decision to focus on this story, instead of what losing a brother can do to someone, that the film lost me. Blunt and DeWitt are so good in their scenes together that you can't help but want more. Jack witnesses what Iris and Hannah are like together and clearly misses having that connection with his brother, but Shelton is uninterested in going there. There's even a scene in the third act where Jack tells Iris that he can never come between them - that their sibling relationship is something sacred, something Iris can never know the way Jack does because he's lost it. It's a powerful scene that reinforces where the story should have gone and how the film could have landed its own unique emotional impact. Instead, the film becomes an examination of actors sitting around a table and talking about nothing of substance.
Shelton has openly stated that she likes to let her actors create their own dialogue and not feel as though they have to stick to the script. This kind of improvisation can work if the actors know what they're doing. Duplass is not one of those actors and is dreadful from beginning to end making the film almost unwatchable. It's only when Blunt and DeWitt share scenes that Shelton's approach works, and even then it feels like if there had been more direction, the film may have worked.
What we end up with are several reveals in the third act that are completely unconvincing: Iris tells Hannah a major secret she's been keeping from Jack; Hannah's intentions with Jack are not what they originally appeared to be; Jack admits that he's not the best human being in the world. In other words, Shelton realized that she needed an ending to her film about actors sitting around different tables and talking. Within the span of about fifteen minutes, Your Sister's Sister becomes a melodrama wherein all hope seems lost and these characters seemed doomed to suffer for all of their poor decision-making. Then, suddenly, every single plot point is wrapped up all neat and nice and we realize we that this entire movie was a farce.
If there's one thing we can take away from Your Sister's Sister, it's that Blunt and DeWitt are two extraordinary actors. We're reminded of their better work (Blunt most recently in The Five Year Engagement and DeWitt in Rachel Getting Married) and shown that even with material as terrible as this, they'll own it and make us believe every scene that they're in.
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
Early on in Your Sister's Sister, the new film from writer/director Lynn Shelton, you get the sense that there's a better story to tell than the one the the film ultimately ends up exploring.
Jack, played by Mark Duplass, is still grieving over the death of his brother after a year, so his best friend, Iris (Emily Blunt), suggests that he retreat to her family's cabin on an island off the Washington coast to recover.
Isolation, it seems, is the best medicine when one already feels utterly alone.
Once Jack arrives, however, he finds the cabin already occupied by Hannah (Rosemarie DeWitt), Iris's lesbian, vegan sister. It doesn't take very long for Jack and Hannah to become drinking buddies, as Hannah has just walked out on a seven-year relationship and Jack takes comfort in meeting someone more miserable than he's been. Inevitably the two decide in their drunken stupor that the best option is to sleep with one another.
The rest of the film involves what I assume Shelton and Co. thought were funny ways that Jack and Hannah try to keep their affair a secret from Iris, who shows up the following morning to surprise Jack. As I watched I kept wondering why Jack was so concerned about Iris finding out about what happened with Hannah. Iris, after all, was Jack's brother's girlfriend so the stakes never seem that high as to warrant most of ninety-minute runtime to be devoted to guarding this secret.
It's the decision to focus on this story, instead of what losing a brother can do to someone, that the film lost me. Blunt and DeWitt are so good in their scenes together that you can't help but want more. Jack witnesses what Iris and Hannah are like together and clearly misses having that connection with his brother, but Shelton is uninterested in going there. There's even a scene in the third act where Jack tells Iris that he can never come between them - that their sibling relationship is something sacred, something Iris can never know the way Jack does because he's lost it. It's a powerful scene that reinforces where the story should have gone and how the film could have landed its own unique emotional impact. Instead, the film becomes an examination of actors sitting around a table and talking about nothing of substance.
Shelton has openly stated that she likes to let her actors create their own dialogue and not feel as though they have to stick to the script. This kind of improvisation can work if the actors know what they're doing. Duplass is not one of those actors and is dreadful from beginning to end making the film almost unwatchable. It's only when Blunt and DeWitt share scenes that Shelton's approach works, and even then it feels like if there had been more direction, the film may have worked.
What we end up with are several reveals in the third act that are completely unconvincing: Iris tells Hannah a major secret she's been keeping from Jack; Hannah's intentions with Jack are not what they originally appeared to be; Jack admits that he's not the best human being in the world. In other words, Shelton realized that she needed an ending to her film about actors sitting around different tables and talking. Within the span of about fifteen minutes, Your Sister's Sister becomes a melodrama wherein all hope seems lost and these characters seemed doomed to suffer for all of their poor decision-making. Then, suddenly, every single plot point is wrapped up all neat and nice and we realize we that this entire movie was a farce.
If there's one thing we can take away from Your Sister's Sister, it's that Blunt and DeWitt are two extraordinary actors. We're reminded of their better work (Blunt most recently in The Five Year Engagement and DeWitt in Rachel Getting Married) and shown that even with material as terrible as this, they'll own it and make us believe every scene that they're in.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Bernie ★★★½
Jack Black Can Act! Who Knew?
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
For those who hate Jack Black, and those who love him, the new film Bernie, from director Richard Linklater may just be the film that brings both camps together. Black stars as the title character Bernie Tiede, an assistant mortician in the small East Texas town of Carthage, and a man who is loved by the community for his charity, his empathy for those who have just lost a close relative, and his ability to sing any song by request at church.
Oh, and he also killed an old woman named Marjorie Nugent (played fiercely by Shirley MacLaine) and hid her body in a freezer for several months without anyone knowing about it.
Oh, and this is all based on a true story.
Sounds quite creepy, right? Well, in fact the opposite is true, as Linklater and co-writer Skip Hollandsworth decided to make this true story more of a comedy than drama. In fact, I wouldn't even call it dark comedy, but rather a lighthearted documentary-like film, with elements of a crime thriller interspersed throughout. It's been done before, yes, but never (at least in recent years) with a more capable actor than Black in a role that quite frankly could have been acted completely wrong.
Black plays Bernie with just the right level of ambiguity: we don't know if he is truly psychotic or if he did genuinely have a moment where he just lost it; we don't know (though it's certainly speculated by the townsfolk) whether or not Bernie is gay; and perhaps the biggest question, at least for me, is that we don't know what Bernie's true motivations were for all of the donations he made to the town of Carthage. Was it all an elaborate plan to get people to like him? Was he truly that good? We'll never know. What remains by the time the credits role, is the certainty that Black has just played the role of his career. He's never over-the-top, nor is he too reserved. He just embodies this character and plays him without fear (Black actually met with the real-life Bernie and studied his mannerisms to make sure he played the part right).
At odds with Bernie's goodness is Marjorie, the mean old curmudgeon hated by all of Carthage. MacLaine is so viciously evil in her portrayal of Marjorie that it's hard to sympathize with her at all. At about the time everyone finds out what's happened to her in the film, we, too, begin to justify Bernie's actions. Bernie and Marjorie's scenes together at first feel like 'the start of a beautiful friendship', then as the months and years go by, become strangely intimate and finally, just before Marjorie's death, quite hard to watch. We see how tortured and conflicted Bernie is as he tries to remain the lovable man he's always been, despite having the thankless job of being Marjorie's caregiver.
Real-life Carthage residents provide commentary on the events that unfolded, one woman explaining that some of the locals would have shot Marjorie for five dollars, and others still in disbelief that Bernie actually murdered her. The character in the film apparently immune to Bernie's charms, and really the only voice of reason, is Danny Buck Davidson (played by Matthew McConaughey) the district attorney of Carthage. He's the audience's window into a town that eerily feels like a cult when the subject of Bernie comes up. He's a part of the town, but he's the outsider looking in, outnumbered and having to react quickly if he wants to successfully convict Bernie.
All of these elements add to the fun that is Bernie. Linklater establishes a tone that neither makes fun of the events that transpired, nor takes itself too seriously. I walked out of the film wondering if Bernie, or at least Black's portrayal of Bernie, cast a spell over me as well, considering that despite having seen him do it in the film, I didn't want to believe that he shot Marjorie in cold blood. If there's one thing Linklater's successful with in Bernie, it's creating reasonable doubt in his audience despite explicitly showing us the crime.
Black's performance is one that I doubt will be considered come awards season, but nonetheless one that should be nominated in a best actor category. Is it a serious role? No. Is it one that defies all odds and overcomes adversity? No.
But it is one that shows us that just like Bernie, there's more to Jack Black than meets the eye.
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
For those who hate Jack Black, and those who love him, the new film Bernie, from director Richard Linklater may just be the film that brings both camps together. Black stars as the title character Bernie Tiede, an assistant mortician in the small East Texas town of Carthage, and a man who is loved by the community for his charity, his empathy for those who have just lost a close relative, and his ability to sing any song by request at church.
Oh, and he also killed an old woman named Marjorie Nugent (played fiercely by Shirley MacLaine) and hid her body in a freezer for several months without anyone knowing about it.
Oh, and this is all based on a true story.
Sounds quite creepy, right? Well, in fact the opposite is true, as Linklater and co-writer Skip Hollandsworth decided to make this true story more of a comedy than drama. In fact, I wouldn't even call it dark comedy, but rather a lighthearted documentary-like film, with elements of a crime thriller interspersed throughout. It's been done before, yes, but never (at least in recent years) with a more capable actor than Black in a role that quite frankly could have been acted completely wrong.
Black plays Bernie with just the right level of ambiguity: we don't know if he is truly psychotic or if he did genuinely have a moment where he just lost it; we don't know (though it's certainly speculated by the townsfolk) whether or not Bernie is gay; and perhaps the biggest question, at least for me, is that we don't know what Bernie's true motivations were for all of the donations he made to the town of Carthage. Was it all an elaborate plan to get people to like him? Was he truly that good? We'll never know. What remains by the time the credits role, is the certainty that Black has just played the role of his career. He's never over-the-top, nor is he too reserved. He just embodies this character and plays him without fear (Black actually met with the real-life Bernie and studied his mannerisms to make sure he played the part right).
At odds with Bernie's goodness is Marjorie, the mean old curmudgeon hated by all of Carthage. MacLaine is so viciously evil in her portrayal of Marjorie that it's hard to sympathize with her at all. At about the time everyone finds out what's happened to her in the film, we, too, begin to justify Bernie's actions. Bernie and Marjorie's scenes together at first feel like 'the start of a beautiful friendship', then as the months and years go by, become strangely intimate and finally, just before Marjorie's death, quite hard to watch. We see how tortured and conflicted Bernie is as he tries to remain the lovable man he's always been, despite having the thankless job of being Marjorie's caregiver.
Real-life Carthage residents provide commentary on the events that unfolded, one woman explaining that some of the locals would have shot Marjorie for five dollars, and others still in disbelief that Bernie actually murdered her. The character in the film apparently immune to Bernie's charms, and really the only voice of reason, is Danny Buck Davidson (played by Matthew McConaughey) the district attorney of Carthage. He's the audience's window into a town that eerily feels like a cult when the subject of Bernie comes up. He's a part of the town, but he's the outsider looking in, outnumbered and having to react quickly if he wants to successfully convict Bernie.
All of these elements add to the fun that is Bernie. Linklater establishes a tone that neither makes fun of the events that transpired, nor takes itself too seriously. I walked out of the film wondering if Bernie, or at least Black's portrayal of Bernie, cast a spell over me as well, considering that despite having seen him do it in the film, I didn't want to believe that he shot Marjorie in cold blood. If there's one thing Linklater's successful with in Bernie, it's creating reasonable doubt in his audience despite explicitly showing us the crime.
Black's performance is one that I doubt will be considered come awards season, but nonetheless one that should be nominated in a best actor category. Is it a serious role? No. Is it one that defies all odds and overcomes adversity? No.
But it is one that shows us that just like Bernie, there's more to Jack Black than meets the eye.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Moonrise Kingdom ★★★★
Wes Anderson's Beautifully Told Story About Young Love In His Imagined World
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
The auteur theory states that the director of a film is the primary creative force behind the scenes. Every film made by a particular director further reflects that director's own personality and style. This theory has long been debated and studied, but no matter which side of the argument you fall on, it's hard to disagree that Moonrise Kingdom, the latest film from director Wes Anderson, is anything but a look into the beautiful imagination (Being John Malkovich style) of Anderson himself.
I'll admit that as of this writing, I have only seen three of Anderson's films (I won't say which) and of those three, Moonrise Kingdom feels like the film Anderson was meant to make and maybe the one he's been striving to make since his career began. It doesn't feel like style without substance, nor does it feel autobiographical; rather, it's the perfect marriage of story and storyteller. In a recent interview on Fresh Air from NPR, Anderson said that his previous films had no justification for having items like a record player on screen, other than the fact that Anderson likes how they look on camera. Moonrise Kingdom, however, is set in 1965 and thus allows Anderson to place said items in the frame without having to feel guilty about it. It's in that sense that his other films feel like practice for this one; some may have gotten more elements right than others, but from what I've read and from the one's I have seen, they seemed like the struggles of a director trying to hit that perfect blend of style and story. Moonrise Kingdom is his major achievement.
The film's central focus is a pair of star-crossed lovers, Sam (Jared Gilman) and Suzy (Kara Hayward), two twelve-year-olds who have decided to run away (Sam because of being passed around from foster home to foster home, Suzy because of her home life, which is anything but perfect) despite having nowhere but the fictional island they live on (called New Penzance) to go. They decide to create their own paradise where no adults can find them and they can live happily ever after, as the outcast "troubled children" that they are. It's in the portrayal of this young love, and virtually everything else down to the font in the credits, that we see Anderson's persona truly reflected.
These are two children who long for adulthood and want to be taken seriously. The love and admiration they share for one another feels like more of a bond of common isolation than the traditional love we're used to seeing onscreen. Because of that, some criticisms I've heard - and partially agree with - are directed at Gilman and Hayward for their lack of understanding Anderson's style of dialogue and their inability to make the love they share believable. While this is a fair criticism, I feel that it's based on judging Moonrise Kingdom as a typical love story, rather than a fable straight out of Anderson's head. Looking at the romance as one more signature trait of Anderson's auteurism, it becomes clear that the love these two twelve-year-olds share is the kind of love that Anderson himself believes in, which may not be for everyone. I happen to be one of the critics completely swept away by it and thus view it as one of the best elements in Anderson's masterpiece.
The other story in the film involves the adults looking for the missing children. There are Suzy's parents, played by seasoned Anderson veteran Bill Murray and Anderson-newcomer Frances McDormand, two attorneys whose love for one another seems to have faded years ago; Sam's "Khaki Scout" leader played perfectly by Edward Norton (he strikes just the right amount of goofiness and sentimentality); Sam's fellow Khaki Scouts themselves, who quite comically have their own ideas about how to retrieve Sam; and most unexpectedly, but completely welcome in an unconventional role, Bruce Willis as the island's only police officer, Captain Sharp, (with whom McDormand's character is having an affair). While these characters are all searching for the children, we're warned of a looming hurricane and given background on New Penzance (for instance, there are no paved roads on the island) by a narrator, played humorously by Bob Balaban, sporting the signature Steve Zissou hat and delivering every line of dialogue with just the right amount of deadpan.
It's evident that the love between Sam and Suzy, the adult characters, the color palette of the island itself, and the necessary exposition explained by a narrator are all ways in which Anderson must view the world, or at least the way he saw the world when he was twelve-years-old. While many elements of the story echo what may have happened to Anderson as a boy, the film feels like a genuine creation; an imagined representation of what childhood was like for Anderson, rather than a telling of his tale. It's for that reason and many others that Moonrise Kingdom hits the emotional chord it does and is, to date, Wes Anderson's pièce de résistance.
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
The auteur theory states that the director of a film is the primary creative force behind the scenes. Every film made by a particular director further reflects that director's own personality and style. This theory has long been debated and studied, but no matter which side of the argument you fall on, it's hard to disagree that Moonrise Kingdom, the latest film from director Wes Anderson, is anything but a look into the beautiful imagination (Being John Malkovich style) of Anderson himself.
I'll admit that as of this writing, I have only seen three of Anderson's films (I won't say which) and of those three, Moonrise Kingdom feels like the film Anderson was meant to make and maybe the one he's been striving to make since his career began. It doesn't feel like style without substance, nor does it feel autobiographical; rather, it's the perfect marriage of story and storyteller. In a recent interview on Fresh Air from NPR, Anderson said that his previous films had no justification for having items like a record player on screen, other than the fact that Anderson likes how they look on camera. Moonrise Kingdom, however, is set in 1965 and thus allows Anderson to place said items in the frame without having to feel guilty about it. It's in that sense that his other films feel like practice for this one; some may have gotten more elements right than others, but from what I've read and from the one's I have seen, they seemed like the struggles of a director trying to hit that perfect blend of style and story. Moonrise Kingdom is his major achievement.
The film's central focus is a pair of star-crossed lovers, Sam (Jared Gilman) and Suzy (Kara Hayward), two twelve-year-olds who have decided to run away (Sam because of being passed around from foster home to foster home, Suzy because of her home life, which is anything but perfect) despite having nowhere but the fictional island they live on (called New Penzance) to go. They decide to create their own paradise where no adults can find them and they can live happily ever after, as the outcast "troubled children" that they are. It's in the portrayal of this young love, and virtually everything else down to the font in the credits, that we see Anderson's persona truly reflected.
These are two children who long for adulthood and want to be taken seriously. The love and admiration they share for one another feels like more of a bond of common isolation than the traditional love we're used to seeing onscreen. Because of that, some criticisms I've heard - and partially agree with - are directed at Gilman and Hayward for their lack of understanding Anderson's style of dialogue and their inability to make the love they share believable. While this is a fair criticism, I feel that it's based on judging Moonrise Kingdom as a typical love story, rather than a fable straight out of Anderson's head. Looking at the romance as one more signature trait of Anderson's auteurism, it becomes clear that the love these two twelve-year-olds share is the kind of love that Anderson himself believes in, which may not be for everyone. I happen to be one of the critics completely swept away by it and thus view it as one of the best elements in Anderson's masterpiece.
The other story in the film involves the adults looking for the missing children. There are Suzy's parents, played by seasoned Anderson veteran Bill Murray and Anderson-newcomer Frances McDormand, two attorneys whose love for one another seems to have faded years ago; Sam's "Khaki Scout" leader played perfectly by Edward Norton (he strikes just the right amount of goofiness and sentimentality); Sam's fellow Khaki Scouts themselves, who quite comically have their own ideas about how to retrieve Sam; and most unexpectedly, but completely welcome in an unconventional role, Bruce Willis as the island's only police officer, Captain Sharp, (with whom McDormand's character is having an affair). While these characters are all searching for the children, we're warned of a looming hurricane and given background on New Penzance (for instance, there are no paved roads on the island) by a narrator, played humorously by Bob Balaban, sporting the signature Steve Zissou hat and delivering every line of dialogue with just the right amount of deadpan.
It's evident that the love between Sam and Suzy, the adult characters, the color palette of the island itself, and the necessary exposition explained by a narrator are all ways in which Anderson must view the world, or at least the way he saw the world when he was twelve-years-old. While many elements of the story echo what may have happened to Anderson as a boy, the film feels like a genuine creation; an imagined representation of what childhood was like for Anderson, rather than a telling of his tale. It's for that reason and many others that Moonrise Kingdom hits the emotional chord it does and is, to date, Wes Anderson's pièce de résistance.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Men In Black 3 ★★★
It Captures The Charm of the First Film
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
Like nearly everyone else who has seen Men In Black 3, I asked myself if anyone out there was really championing a third chapter to this seemingly dead franchise. The first film had that lightning-in-the-bottle quality to it by having an interesting take on the buddy-cop genre with its two leads, Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith; two people whom you would never think would work well together. Men In Black 2, on the other hand, proved that the magic of the first film could not sustain a sequel and left us all with a sour taste in our mouth. That being said, I entered this third film with great apprehension and left the theatre (surprisingly) feeling relieved and also quite glad that I had decided to see it. Men In Black 3 manages to capture that same charm that the first film did by having a time travel story in which Will Smith's Agent J must travel back to 1969 to rescue a younger K (played brilliantly by Josh Brolin) and stop an alien invasion.
It was the odd-couple pairing of these two men that worked so well in Men In Black, which this film achieves by having J and K meet each other for the first time - again. Let me explain: It's established in the present that in their fourteen years of being partners, K has never opened up to J emotionally. J tries to get little nuggets of information out of him but is lucky to get one sentence. K is both distraught and distracted when he learns that an alien that he imprisoned in 1969, Boris (Jemaine Clement), has escaped and wants him dead. Boris travels back to 1969 and kills the younger K, thereby changing the future to allow for yet another alien invasion. This leaves J with one mission: Go back to the day before Boris arrives in 1969, kill Boris before he can kill K, and put the timeline back on its natural course. When J goes back in time and finally explains the situation to the younger K, he's shocked to see a side of his partner he's never known: K is friendlier and more open, offering to tell J anything he wants to know about him. Like I said, they meet for the first time - again.
Even though it's not Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith together again (except for maybe ten minutes of screen time for Jones in the beginning and then briefly again at the end of the film) we get that feeling of nostalgia for what the first film did so successfully as well as an entirely new story that re-introduces us to these characters. Christy Lemire's review of the film claims that Will Smith comes across as bored in his role but I disagree with that wholeheartedly. I think he's aged J quite well, adding something new to the character while still reminding us why we love seeing Smith in a role like this. He's still J, just a little bit older. Jones on the other hand does come across as bored and a little out of place, which make the present-day scenes the weakest parts of an otherwise solid film. This surprised me, as I entered the film thinking I would hate it because Jones was in it so little considering he was the best part of the previous two installments.
Josh Brolin delivers the best performance of Men In Black 3. He brings his own take to the role of K, but somehow captures every bit of Jones making the audience completely buy that he is the younger incarnation of this beloved character. It's his fresh take on the role that reminds us of why Jones was so great in Men In Black. The running gag is that Brolin, currently in his forties, is playing the twenty-nine year-old K, which prompts the hilarious line from J that K has some "city miles" on him.
The supporting characters in this film enhance the world that the characters inhabit. Michael Stuhlbarg is a lot of fun in the role of Griffin, an alien who sees many timelines at once; Bill Hader is a riot as Andy Warhol; and Clement is unrecognizably evil as Boris, the best villain in the series since Vincent D'Onofrio as Edgar the Bug. If there are any complaints about the supporting cast, it's that I missed seeing Tony Shalhoub as Jack Jeebs (and for those of you out there who say there's no place for him in this film, I argue that he could have easily taken the place of Michael Chernus as Jeffery Price, the time-travel expert) and longed for David Cross to make a cameo as Newton. Yes, my own bias is always a desire to see favorite characters return, so long as their serviced, but I just felt that despite the time-travel story, there was a place for all of them to show up in some capacity.
It's no secret that Men In Black 3 had a troubled production. They began shooting with an unfinished script to take advantage of the soon-to-expire New York City tax credit, took about a four-month break to finish the script, then recommenced shooting. From the start it sounded like this film was destined to fail, but somehow, in addition to the great performances of Smith and Brolin, the film has a fun story to tell.
Time travel is always tricky and this film may be guilty of a few paradoxes, however, every question I had, both before entering the film and during it, was answered. (I wondered how if K is killed in the past and no one remembers the original timeline, J is the only one to remember K.) The film comes across as one that had a story it wanted to tell and without much effort knew where it was going and how it would end. While that doesn't seem to be the case, the film certainly could have fooled me.
These are minor complaints of a film that is a lot of fun in the summer blockbuster season. While virtually no one was championing another Men In Black sequel, I'm glad that they made this film. If this is the end of the series (and I really hope it is), I'm grateful that it leaves me with a fond memory of the franchise, redeeming it from the horror that was Men In Black 2.
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
Like nearly everyone else who has seen Men In Black 3, I asked myself if anyone out there was really championing a third chapter to this seemingly dead franchise. The first film had that lightning-in-the-bottle quality to it by having an interesting take on the buddy-cop genre with its two leads, Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith; two people whom you would never think would work well together. Men In Black 2, on the other hand, proved that the magic of the first film could not sustain a sequel and left us all with a sour taste in our mouth. That being said, I entered this third film with great apprehension and left the theatre (surprisingly) feeling relieved and also quite glad that I had decided to see it. Men In Black 3 manages to capture that same charm that the first film did by having a time travel story in which Will Smith's Agent J must travel back to 1969 to rescue a younger K (played brilliantly by Josh Brolin) and stop an alien invasion.
It was the odd-couple pairing of these two men that worked so well in Men In Black, which this film achieves by having J and K meet each other for the first time - again. Let me explain: It's established in the present that in their fourteen years of being partners, K has never opened up to J emotionally. J tries to get little nuggets of information out of him but is lucky to get one sentence. K is both distraught and distracted when he learns that an alien that he imprisoned in 1969, Boris (Jemaine Clement), has escaped and wants him dead. Boris travels back to 1969 and kills the younger K, thereby changing the future to allow for yet another alien invasion. This leaves J with one mission: Go back to the day before Boris arrives in 1969, kill Boris before he can kill K, and put the timeline back on its natural course. When J goes back in time and finally explains the situation to the younger K, he's shocked to see a side of his partner he's never known: K is friendlier and more open, offering to tell J anything he wants to know about him. Like I said, they meet for the first time - again.
Even though it's not Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith together again (except for maybe ten minutes of screen time for Jones in the beginning and then briefly again at the end of the film) we get that feeling of nostalgia for what the first film did so successfully as well as an entirely new story that re-introduces us to these characters. Christy Lemire's review of the film claims that Will Smith comes across as bored in his role but I disagree with that wholeheartedly. I think he's aged J quite well, adding something new to the character while still reminding us why we love seeing Smith in a role like this. He's still J, just a little bit older. Jones on the other hand does come across as bored and a little out of place, which make the present-day scenes the weakest parts of an otherwise solid film. This surprised me, as I entered the film thinking I would hate it because Jones was in it so little considering he was the best part of the previous two installments.
Josh Brolin delivers the best performance of Men In Black 3. He brings his own take to the role of K, but somehow captures every bit of Jones making the audience completely buy that he is the younger incarnation of this beloved character. It's his fresh take on the role that reminds us of why Jones was so great in Men In Black. The running gag is that Brolin, currently in his forties, is playing the twenty-nine year-old K, which prompts the hilarious line from J that K has some "city miles" on him.
The supporting characters in this film enhance the world that the characters inhabit. Michael Stuhlbarg is a lot of fun in the role of Griffin, an alien who sees many timelines at once; Bill Hader is a riot as Andy Warhol; and Clement is unrecognizably evil as Boris, the best villain in the series since Vincent D'Onofrio as Edgar the Bug. If there are any complaints about the supporting cast, it's that I missed seeing Tony Shalhoub as Jack Jeebs (and for those of you out there who say there's no place for him in this film, I argue that he could have easily taken the place of Michael Chernus as Jeffery Price, the time-travel expert) and longed for David Cross to make a cameo as Newton. Yes, my own bias is always a desire to see favorite characters return, so long as their serviced, but I just felt that despite the time-travel story, there was a place for all of them to show up in some capacity.
It's no secret that Men In Black 3 had a troubled production. They began shooting with an unfinished script to take advantage of the soon-to-expire New York City tax credit, took about a four-month break to finish the script, then recommenced shooting. From the start it sounded like this film was destined to fail, but somehow, in addition to the great performances of Smith and Brolin, the film has a fun story to tell.
Time travel is always tricky and this film may be guilty of a few paradoxes, however, every question I had, both before entering the film and during it, was answered. (I wondered how if K is killed in the past and no one remembers the original timeline, J is the only one to remember K.) The film comes across as one that had a story it wanted to tell and without much effort knew where it was going and how it would end. While that doesn't seem to be the case, the film certainly could have fooled me.
These are minor complaints of a film that is a lot of fun in the summer blockbuster season. While virtually no one was championing another Men In Black sequel, I'm glad that they made this film. If this is the end of the series (and I really hope it is), I'm grateful that it leaves me with a fond memory of the franchise, redeeming it from the horror that was Men In Black 2.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Dark Shadows ★½
Johnny Depp As A Vampire; How Is That Not Interesting?
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
It's hard to believe that in the twenty-plus years of Mr. Depp's career he has never played a vampire. With Dark Shadows, we get a taste of not only what Depp can bring to the role of a brooding, blood-thirsty monster, but also how much more he could have done with the part had the film been entrusted to a more capable director.
It has been argued that Tim Burton is more of a production designer than a director, a point which these days is hard to prove otherwise. His films always look amazing. Even if you did not know who the director of a particular film was going into it, the first image onscreen would most assuredly tell you it's Burton. As a result of his ability to bring true atmosphere to his films, I feel as though sometimes our immediate reaction is to grade his films solely on their look, instead of their plot. As Manohla Dargis of the New York Times notes in her very positive review of the film, "...Traditional storytelling has never been Mr. Burton’s specialty or perhaps interest. What counts in his work is the telling, not the tale. He isn’t big on narrative logic, coherence and thrust focusing instead on his imagery..". Typically it's the more formalistic directors like David Lynch or Guy Maddin that are graded on this curve because they're films are all about the visuals, not necessarily a cohesive story. Burton on the other hand has openly stated that he would not know a good script from a bad one, thus interesting visuals in place of good storytelling does not put him in the same category as Lynch or Maddin.
The case can be made that the films of Burton's that we love (we all have our favorites) were the result of pure luck. He managed to pick scripts that were the perfect match for his style of directing and for many years we looked forward to what he would do next. It's unfortunate now, however, that my approach to Tim Burton has shifted from excitement to apprehension. Dark Shadows sadly reinforces that.
The story is less of a vampire movie and more of a misunderstood monster movie; yet another point that reminds us of Tim Burton's better films like Edward Scissorhands or Beetlejuice. Depp plays Barnabas Collins, an 18th Century vampire who awakens in 1972 after being locked up and buried in a coffin by the local townspeople of Collinsport. As a young man Barnabas breaks the heart of one of his servants, Angelique Bouchard (Eva Green), who also happens to be a witch. She curses his family, the result of which leads to the untimely deaths of his parents and the woman he loves, Josette du Pres (Bella Heathcote). She then condemns Barnabas to be a vampire, destined to live forever in agony.
It is at this point that the film never decides what it wants to be. It starts off as a tragedy, then becomes a fish-out-of-water tale with doses of physical comedy, and in its final act becomes a cluttered mess of chaos. You never know if the film is trying to be funny or if it wants to be taken seriously; once again the result of a director who after almost thirty years in the business still does not know what he is doing.
The supporting characters are underserved. Michelle Pfieffer as Elizabeth Collins Stoddard does not serve much of a purpose as the family matriarch; Helena Bonham Carter as Dr. Julia Hoffman shows up sporadically throughout the film as the family's live-in psychiatrist; Chloƫ Grace Moretz as Carolyn Stoddard is actually quite unlikeable and has a deus ex machina quality moment at the end of the movie that does not work; Jackie Earle Haley as Willie Loomis, the caretaker of the Collins estate, does nothing effective. In addition, Bella Heathcote, who plays both Victoria Winters in the present and Josette in the past, at first comes across as the film's primary protagonist after the prologue and ends up having maybe ten minutes of screen-time by the end of the movie. There's too much going on in Dark Shadows and not enough talent behind the camera.
The directors that continue to make us scratch our head with every new film they make know what they're doing. They know the film they want to make and the story they want to tell, however confusing it may be - they're artists. Tim Burton, while talented in his own respect, needs to perfect the craft of directing or continue to suffer bad movie after bad movie. Dark Shadows is just another reminder that Burton's gift for visual stimuli is no substitute for his lack of focus on story and character.
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
It's hard to believe that in the twenty-plus years of Mr. Depp's career he has never played a vampire. With Dark Shadows, we get a taste of not only what Depp can bring to the role of a brooding, blood-thirsty monster, but also how much more he could have done with the part had the film been entrusted to a more capable director.
It has been argued that Tim Burton is more of a production designer than a director, a point which these days is hard to prove otherwise. His films always look amazing. Even if you did not know who the director of a particular film was going into it, the first image onscreen would most assuredly tell you it's Burton. As a result of his ability to bring true atmosphere to his films, I feel as though sometimes our immediate reaction is to grade his films solely on their look, instead of their plot. As Manohla Dargis of the New York Times notes in her very positive review of the film, "...Traditional storytelling has never been Mr. Burton’s specialty or perhaps interest. What counts in his work is the telling, not the tale. He isn’t big on narrative logic, coherence and thrust focusing instead on his imagery..". Typically it's the more formalistic directors like David Lynch or Guy Maddin that are graded on this curve because they're films are all about the visuals, not necessarily a cohesive story. Burton on the other hand has openly stated that he would not know a good script from a bad one, thus interesting visuals in place of good storytelling does not put him in the same category as Lynch or Maddin.
The case can be made that the films of Burton's that we love (we all have our favorites) were the result of pure luck. He managed to pick scripts that were the perfect match for his style of directing and for many years we looked forward to what he would do next. It's unfortunate now, however, that my approach to Tim Burton has shifted from excitement to apprehension. Dark Shadows sadly reinforces that.
The story is less of a vampire movie and more of a misunderstood monster movie; yet another point that reminds us of Tim Burton's better films like Edward Scissorhands or Beetlejuice. Depp plays Barnabas Collins, an 18th Century vampire who awakens in 1972 after being locked up and buried in a coffin by the local townspeople of Collinsport. As a young man Barnabas breaks the heart of one of his servants, Angelique Bouchard (Eva Green), who also happens to be a witch. She curses his family, the result of which leads to the untimely deaths of his parents and the woman he loves, Josette du Pres (Bella Heathcote). She then condemns Barnabas to be a vampire, destined to live forever in agony.
It is at this point that the film never decides what it wants to be. It starts off as a tragedy, then becomes a fish-out-of-water tale with doses of physical comedy, and in its final act becomes a cluttered mess of chaos. You never know if the film is trying to be funny or if it wants to be taken seriously; once again the result of a director who after almost thirty years in the business still does not know what he is doing.
The supporting characters are underserved. Michelle Pfieffer as Elizabeth Collins Stoddard does not serve much of a purpose as the family matriarch; Helena Bonham Carter as Dr. Julia Hoffman shows up sporadically throughout the film as the family's live-in psychiatrist; Chloƫ Grace Moretz as Carolyn Stoddard is actually quite unlikeable and has a deus ex machina quality moment at the end of the movie that does not work; Jackie Earle Haley as Willie Loomis, the caretaker of the Collins estate, does nothing effective. In addition, Bella Heathcote, who plays both Victoria Winters in the present and Josette in the past, at first comes across as the film's primary protagonist after the prologue and ends up having maybe ten minutes of screen-time by the end of the movie. There's too much going on in Dark Shadows and not enough talent behind the camera.
The directors that continue to make us scratch our head with every new film they make know what they're doing. They know the film they want to make and the story they want to tell, however confusing it may be - they're artists. Tim Burton, while talented in his own respect, needs to perfect the craft of directing or continue to suffer bad movie after bad movie. Dark Shadows is just another reminder that Burton's gift for visual stimuli is no substitute for his lack of focus on story and character.
Friday, April 27, 2012
The Five Year Engagement ★★★
A Film Proving That The Romantic Comedy Is Not Dead
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
It's shameful to say that in the last twenty or more years I can count the number of good romantic comedies on one hand. With that in mind, I'm quite delighted to say that The Five Year Engagement is one more rom-com that I can add to that short list.
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
It's shameful to say that in the last twenty or more years I can count the number of good romantic comedies on one hand. With that in mind, I'm quite delighted to say that The Five Year Engagement is one more rom-com that I can add to that short list.
As the title implies, this is a film about Tom and Violet's struggle to make it to the alter over the course of five years. Tom is a San Francisco chef that proposes to the love of his life, Violet, on their one-year anniversary. When Violet gets accepted to University of Michigan's psychology program instead of Berkley's, Tom quits his job to move with her. As Violet excels with her psych group, Tom struggles with the fact that he can only get a job making sandwiches at Zingerman's Deli. This undoubtably puts a strain on their relationship and with every new hurtle that comes their way, the wedding is delayed further.
The last film that I can remember caring about the main characters as much I do in The Five Year Engagement was When Harry Met Sally. The key to both films is having an on-screen couple, or potential couple, that we as an audience are truly, emotionally invested in. Jason Segal and Emily Blunt do stellar work as their respective Tom and Violet. There's something so natural about each of them that from the moment we first see these two, we're rooting for them. They're a couple that goes through what many couples have to go through and nearly every reaction that each of them has to the other never feels forced or false.
Jason Segal also co-wrote the script with director Nicholas Stoller (their first film together being Forgetting Sarah Marshall) and I must say that these two have a gift for writing honest material. I recently read that the funniest moments in life and in film are those that are the most real. Take for instance the opening scene of the film, which features a quite nervous Tom trying to conceal the fact that he is going to propose from Violet. The way Segal plays it is so genuine and believable it is one of the funniest scenes of the movie, and we're not even into it five minutes. The scenes where Tom and Violet are fighting, or when their simply walking the streets of Ann Arbor are perhaps the most memorable and the funniest because again, we see these characters as real people.
The film goes back and forth from San Francisco to Ann Arbor, which is important to note because so many films these days do not use location as a character. One of the criteria I look for in my favorite films is how location is used to better the story. Michigan serves as the foil to all of Tom's plans and it could not be more effective. They show Ann Arbor for what it is: a college town that's both simultaneously beautiful and frigidly devastating depending on what time of year it is. Yes, Michigan is portrayed as unbearably cold, and with the primary pastime being hunting. Or, as I like to call it, Michigan. Living in Michigan, I have to admit that seeing a film like this use it as a character is quite humbling. It's not often films showcase our state and when they do I'm always grateful.
The Five Year Engagement is not a perfect film, but it's damn good. It's a film that recalls great onscreen couples like Harry and Sally, or the best of the Ginger Rogers/Fred Astaire films, and one of my personal favorite films, It Happened One Night. While we still may only be able to count good rom-coms on one hand, The Five Year Engagement gives me hope that we'll be able to add many more to that list, especially if Segal and Stoller continue with the amazing work they're doing.
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Footnote ★★★½
Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando
Relationships between father and son are complicated to say
the least. The film Footnote offers a
darkly comical take on that relationship by setting the story in the world of
academia, specifically in the Talmudic Research Department of the Hebrew
University of Jerusalem. The father, Eliezer Shkolnik (Shlomo Bar Aba) is a philologist who
studies different versions of the Jerusalem Talmud adhering to a strict view of
their meaning. Eliezer is an outcast because of his old-school beliefs. Years
back, another Professor, Yehuda Grossman (Micah Lewensohn), found similar
results as Eliezer in his research but published them ahead of him, leaving
Eliezer’s thirty years of work now pointless. It should be noted that Eliezer’s
only claim to fame is a footnote in one of his former mentor’s books that
everyone except Eliezer has long since forgotten. Meanwhile, Eliezer’s son
Uriel (Lior Ashkenazi) is perhaps the most popular professor at the University,
whose work does not include such a strict interpretation of Talmudic texts.
Eliezer finds everything that Uriel believes in to be simple speculation and thus
not worthy of his respect.
For years Eliezer has hoped to win the Israel Prize in
recognition of his work and each year he has become more saddened and bitter
because he never wins. Elsewhere, Uriel has made the point that as long as his
father is alive and hoping to win the Israel Prize, he does not want to be
recommended for the honor. When a mix up of names occurs, Eliezer is mistakenly
told that he will be receiving the award he has so long hoped for, even though
unbeknownst to him the award was intended to be given to Uriel.
What I love about this film is how it takes this idea of
the father son strained relationship and raises the stakes to the highest level
by placing true animosity on the role of the father to the son. Eliezer is a
bitter old man who never got over being cheated out of his life’s work. Thirty
years of work suddenly being taken away is something I think we can all
sympathize with. Uriel on the other hand at first comes across as egotistical,
then slowly throughout the film reveals himself to be an honorable man, still
seeking his father’s respect and admiration.
There’s one scene in particular that lasts about ten
minutes that I’m just in awe of. It’s got everything one could want in a movie:
comedy, drama and yes, some suspense. It’s the scene where Uriel is called into
the crammed office of the Israeli Prize committee to be informed of their
error. In it, Uriel begs them to just give his father the award because, as
Uriel states, he deserves it. One of the members on the committee is Professor
Grossman, who has no intention of ever awarding Eliezer the Israel Prize. It’s
a powerful scene; one that I think no matter who you are, you could sympathize
with. For me, it’s the son pleading for his father in the most compassionate
way that hits me hard. If it sounds like Uriel is trying to save his father’s
life, well, he is. He tells the committee that if his father finds out about
the error, it will likely kill him. Eliezer is a man so desperate for respect
that to finally think he’s achieved it only to have it taken away would most
likely drive him to suicide. Uriel, for all intents and purposes, puts his life
on the line to help his father.
The whole film basically shows us the perspectives of
each character; Uriel doing his best to get his father the award he deserves,
and Eliezer running his mouth about his son’s “superficial” work, enraging
Uriel to no end. The film is quite intense in that we never know what either
character might do or say to the other. We see Uriel reaching his breaking
point the more his father ridicules his profession, yet we see Eliezer’s
determination to get the respect he feels his son and others have stolen from
him and we’re sympathetic to both stories. It’s almost as if we either don’t
know who to root for, or we’re rooting for both characters equally.
Keep in mind that this is all set within the world of
academic research; a field that largely in my opinion goes under-appreciated in
our country. Joseph Cedar, the director of this film does a brilliant job
raising the stakes as it were and showing us how complex not only the research
field is, but also how difficult the relationships between fathers and sons can
be. I’m used to seeing films where the son just wants to make his father proud.
Yes, there’s a large amount of that in this film and it all works. But for me,
what sets this film apart from any other is the portrayal of the father whose
desperate to achieve what his son has; just a little respect.
Footnote is
currently playing at The Maple Theatre in Bloomfield Hills.
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