The Truman Show
rating: *****
review: My pick for Jim Carrey's best movie, his first big stab at being dramatic while retaining his crucial whimsical appeal in a story that takes an immersive look at the human condition.
American History X
rating: *****
review: Edward Norton's best movie is a deep look at race relations, at their worst, and how to make things better. Continually relevant, alas.
The Mask of Zorro
rating: *****
review: A perfect escapist adventure with a perfect cast.
What Dreams May Come
rating: *****
review: A truly awe-inspiring journey into the afterlife with Robin Williams.
Out of Sight
rating: *****
review: George Clooney's effortless cool in its best spotlight.
Shakespeare in Love
rating: ****
review: Very nearly worthy of the Bard himself.
Star Trek: Insurrection
rating: ****
review: A movie that rises above its shortcomings with some fascinating insights into franchise lore.
There's Something About Mary
rating: ****
review: This would be perfect, except for the fact that it kind of ages.
The Avengers
rating: ****
review: An excellent sendup of stuffy British spy stories.
The Negotiator
rating: ****
review: A great cast makes up for the fact that the reason Samuel L. Jackson is besieged takes a backseat to thrill of watching him get out of it.
Patch Adams
rating: ****
review: Robin Williams almost seems lost trying to inhabit a real person, but it's still an inspiring story.
Lethal Weapon 4
rating: ****
review: From my experience with this franchise, it's my favorite entry, with Mel Gibson obviously having the time of his life.
Rush Hour
rating: ****
review: Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker are a classic combination.
Saving Private Ryan
rating: ****
review: Sprawling but mesmerizing look at American soldiers in WWII Europe.
Meet Joe Black
rating: ****
review: Hugely underrated Brad Pitt drama that explores the ramifications of death.
Snake Eyes
rating: ****
review: My personal favorite Crazy Nicholas Cage Movie.
Mulan
rating: ****
review: Thanks to my sister, this sort of became my favorite '90s Disney animated flick.
Elizabeth
rating: ****
review: A first taste of Cate Blanchett at epic scale.
Celebrity
rating: ****
review: Kenneth Branagh as Woody Allen is a natural fit.
The Thin Red Line
rating: ****
review: Terrence Malick's poetic meditation of WWII is a brooding revelation.
Lost in Space
rating: ***
review: Fun family stab at sci-fi storytelling.
The Odd Couple II
rating: ***
review: The last Lemmon/Matthieu goes for broke with extremely broad strokes but is still well worth watching.
The Big Lebowski
rating: ***
review: The Dude abides, but he also kind of meanders through a madcap landscape.
Primary Colors
rating: ***
review: It was probably a mistake to recalibrate this Clinton satire into Clinton hero worship.
Wide Awake
rating: ***
review: M. Night Shyamalan's first movie plays with kid gloves pretty literally.
Pleasantville
rating: ***
review: The contrast between the past and present is pretty on-the-nose but looks really pretty.
Blues Brothers 2000
rating: ***
review: Hey, if it's just an excuse to pump out some extra great blues tunes, I think it was worth it.
Rounders
rating: ***
review: Maybe doesn't break any new ground in the gambling genre, but the cast makes up for it.
Earth
rating: ***
review: An excellent look at the birth of Pakistan, but otherwise doesn't really distinguish itself.
Apt Pupil
rating: **
review: A serviceable Stephen King adaptation, but kind of doesn't live up to the standards of his dramas.
Species II
rating: **
review: enjoyable for what it is, but it's still what it is.
Return to Paradise
rating: **
review: A somewhat overwrought attempt to introduce a new generation of serious actors.
Ronin
rating: **
review: In hindsight this looks like it wanted to recapture the magic of the Mission: Impossible reboot from two years earlier, but couldn't.
A Night at the Roxbury
rating: **
review: Idiot fun, but not nearly to the standards of Will Ferrell's later film career.
Simon Birch
rating: **
review: If Jim Carrey had served as anything but narrator, this could have been something other than melodrama.
The Big Hit
rating: **
review: Harmless action fun.
A Bug's Life
rating: *
review: To my mind, instantly revealed the extent to the Pixar formula.
The Waterboy
rating: *
review: To my mind, instantly revealed the extent of Adam Sandler's ability to create distinctive character personas.
Friday, December 30, 2016
Thursday, December 29, 2016
2016 Movies I've Seen to Date
RISEN (***)
This look at the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the perspective of a Roman Tribune (Joseph Fiennes) was a pretty fascinating experience up until, actually, we spend half the movie revisiting biblical material. Tom Felton was pretty good in this.
DEADPOOL (***)
Neatly irreverent take on superheroes (if you know the character, this is exactly what you should've expected) but wobbles into irrelevance by following the typical Marvel model of building its story around a weak villain.
BATMAN V SUPERMAN: DAWN OF JUSTICE (*****)
I think critics, and Marvel fans, had such a huge problem with this because it dared take superhero moviemaking seriously, and completely nailed it. Pretty certain this will be a touchstone of the genre in years to come.
CAPTAIN AMERICA: CIVIL WAR (****)
Ironically, the best parts of this movie really have nothing to do with Steve Rogers but rather the growing cast of Avengers from throughout the franchise, the second time that's happened in this sub-series.
X-MEN: APOCALYPSE (****)
The villain of the piece is almost beside the point, but everything that happens around him is pretty brilliant, a nice bowtie to a six-film saga.
THE LOBSTER (*****)
Brilliant satire of romance and alienation, instantly becomes one of my favorite Colin Farrell movies.
WARCRAFT (****)
Duncan Jones succeeds in breathing life into this fantasy landscape and its intricate views of good and evil; the only thing it lacks is a compelling lead actor.
INDEPENDENCE DAY: RESURGENCE (****)
Plenty worth the wait and nicely builds on the mythology, but lacks the charisma of Will Smith that helped make the first one so memorable.
FREE STATE OF JONES (*****)
Fascinating little-known element of the American Civil War brought back to life.
STAR TREK BEYOND (*****)
The most ambitious of the reboot films to date with an ending that underscores the whole thing nicely.
SUICIDE SQUAD (****)
This sendup of the Marvel moviemaking method blows it out of the water with pizzazz to spare as well as a more genuine feeling for what being an outcast means.
SNOWDEN (****)
Oliver Stone's latest is a wakeup call for a wakeup call.
MAGNIFICENT SEVEN (**)
Surprisingly by-the-numbers movie with too many good actors used inadequately.
FANTASTIC BEASTS AND WHERE TO FIND THEM (****)
A pretty fantastic return to the world of Harry Potter.
ARRIVAL (*****)
My vote for the best movie of the year, with an astonishing vision and a grounding lead performance from the always-reliable Amy Adams.
ROGUE ONE: A STAR WARS STORY (*)
The way most fans view the prequels is how I viewed this, as quite simply atrocious.
JANE GOT A GUN (****)
This mini-reunion of Star Wars prequels actors was a fine addition to the Western genre.
MIDNIGHT SPECIAL (****)
Compelling vision from the always interesting Jeff Nichols.
GHOSTBUSTERS (***)
Oddly feels like most of the actors thought they were going to be animated.
HELL OR HIGH WATER (****)
Gritty meditation on outlaws of the 21st century.
Saturday, November 19, 2016
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (2016)
rating: ****
the story: New Scamander travels to New York with a briefcase full of magical creatures, and things kind of spiral out of control from there.
what it's all about: In a lot of ways, judging the Harry Potter movies (all eight of them) was always going to be a tough proposition. There's a diehard subculture that believes movie adaptations by definition are inferior to their book counterparts. Actually, let me reword that: the prevailing opinion is that the book is always better than the movie. It's a persistent prejudice, one that never really takes into account the unique benefits of both mediums. To anyone who goes along with this line of reasoning, try to watch a movie based on a play. If it's not a musical, and particularly if it was done years ago, you'll find "staginess" in the movie that would otherwise not be there. That's the result of being excessively faithful to one version of a story at the expense of a different and wholly unique experience. What works on the stage works that way because of the particular confines of the stage, which do not exist in movies.
My point being, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them may in fact be the first real chance we get at how well the world of Harry Potter works in movies. It's only too appropriate that the movie is set in America, which is where the majority of moviegoers around the world expect blockbuster movies to be set. That's just one of the things it kind of automatically have going for it. But there's also the threat of franchise fatigue. Fans don't like to admit such a thing exists. But you only have to look at the muted reception of Peter Jackson's Hobbit trilogy to see it in action. If these movies had been released right after his highly acclaimed and enthusiastically received Lord of the Rings trilogy, fans would have reacted to them very differently. Franchise fatigue is a thing that happens mostly when fans have...moved on to something else. It's no surprise that the Star Wars prequels were relative failures when Star Wars-scale blockbusters suddenly happened all the time (including Jackson's Lord of the Rings, and yes, the Harry Potter series). But fans will attribute it to declining quality.
And actually, no matter how much lenience fans gave J.K. Rowling when she started to vastly increase the page-count of her books (the strain most showed in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, the second giant-size entry, and also the first one in the series directed by David Yates in the film adaptations, which will be important later in this review), this blind love has declined in recent years, as she's begun a career writing books specifically for adults, none of which (there have been four, including three detective stories, which will also be important later in this review). This is relevant, because of course Rowling wrote the screenplay for Fantastic Beasts, the first full-length story she's written in this series since 2007's Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (the book).
So there's no telling how enthusiastic fans, or critics, will be with this movie. But they should be pretty ecstatic, because it's a brilliant success, like the stage play, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, which debuted this past summer, an unexpected continuation as well as restatement of everything that worked so well about Harry Potter the first time.
The story revolves on a vaguely familiar character, the author of a textbook Rowling released in the real world, for charity, but more importantly, the lone Brit in the story, who's an instant connection to Hogwarts lore even though he's technically off entirely on his own. In a lot of ways, though, Rowling takes great pains to paint a portrait of the intrepid Newt Scamander very much in the mold of the beloved Rubeus Hagrid, the beloved groundskeeper portrayed by Robbie Coltrane in the movies, an outsider befriended by Dumbledore with a great love for magical creatures. But make no mistake: Newt is no Hagrid. In a lot of ways, he's what Harry Potter would have become if he hadn't found such stolid friends in Hermione and Ron, a sensitive soul with a fierce devotion to what he believes in, and an unwillingness to open up easily to others, fearing they just won't understand.
But the movie quickly pushes Newt in the direction of two helpful people, one being an American witch and the other a No-Maj, which is the American term for muggles. (Some critics have suggested that "No-Maj" is a clumsy term, but anyone who grew up with the Magi of the Bible, or heard a similar term in the Mummy movies featuring Brendan Fraser shouldn't have any problem accepting it.) Both of these characters add a wealth of inspiration to the movie, and help represent the uniquely American aspects of the movie. In their own ways, they represent Newt's Hermione (someone who knows what's the what) and Ron (a charming bumbler) without consciously evoking them. If I hadn't just pointed it out, I doubt you'd make the connections (not to insult you or anything).
And actually, Katherine Waterston's Tina Goldstein is more like Rowling's Robin from her Cormoran Strike mysteries, a woman who enjoys the thrill of the chase, even if it sometimes gets her into trouble. Dan Fogler's Jacob Kowalski is so protoptypically American he's also fat, which is what most people around the world (and quite a few Americans) have assumed is the standard model for years, even though American movies rarely reflect that (Paul Blart, Mall Cop not withstanding). His most interesting arc in the movie actually has nothing to do with Newt or Tina, but rather Tina's sister Queenie, played by Fine Frenzy, who would be a dead ringer for Idina Menzel. Queenie is mesmerized by Jacob, the first No-Maj she's ever known. The movie is actually about breaking through old modes of thought, and this is the easiest way it's demonstrated, and ends up finishing out the movie, too, so that you could very easily watch Fantastic Beasts as a completely standalone experience, whether or not subsequent sequels (there are four projected) picks up their story.
But these are all supporting players; Eddie Redmayne is, well, the main event. He's developed a reputation lately of being a mercurial performer, able to slip into the unlikeliest roles, whether Stephen Hawking in 2014's Theory of Everything or a transgendered woman in 2015's The Danish Girl. In Fantastic Beasts he brings almost lyrical physicality to the role of Newt Scamander, especially in a sequence where he coaxes a particularly troublesome creature back under control. He brings effortless charm to Newt, which is the crux of the movie's appeal, and how it sells further exploits into the world of Harry Potter as something that doesn't actually need Harry. In other words, he achieves the unthinkable.
There are other notable performances: Ezra Miller as the conflicted Credence (more on this later), Jon Voight as Henry Shaw Sr., Ron Perlman as Gnarlak, and Samantha Morton as Mary Lou, each of whom make indelible marks on fleshing out the American nature of the story. (The whole concept of the Second-Salemers is brilliant, addressing something that was missing in Harry Potter previously, a tangible connection to the past.) They have limited parts to play, so I won't spend too much time talking about them.
More notable is Colin Farrell as Percival Graves. I would've watched this movie even if I wasn't already a fan of Harry Potter (and Rowling), because I've been a fan of Farrell's for nearly a decade now. The Irish actor ironically plays an American in this one, as he has for the vast majority of his roles. Critics have been silent about his appearance, if not dismissive, but he brings to Fantastic Beasts what he brings to all his movies: a distinct, brooding presence. It's not just the eyebrows. Farrell tends to inhabit all his characters will three dimensions. This is not the first time he's spent the majority of his screen-time more or less silent (Dead Man Down, or even Miami Vice, or the most artistic example, The New World). His role as Graves is the most direct reflection of the deeper ramifications running through Fantastic Beasts, and by the time the movie ends it's easy enough to understand why (I'm not going to spoil that, but I would give those who know reason enough to keep an open mind; this is hardly the first time we've been asked to ignore the personal life of someone making movies, and not even the hardest one to stomach, which I would say is the career of Roman Polanski). Graves is almost Snape done all in one movie, but in the way fans expected rather than what Rowling eventually gave them. His relationship with Credence is a dark reflection of Newt's with Jacob, and the film greatly benefits from the contrast. I think Farrell is a powerful asset to the movie, and one of the few actors who could've pulled off such a tricky role.
Yates proves a deft hand as director once again. By the time he started directing Harry Potter movies, the material had existed so long it almost didn't matter who was at the helm anymore, but this is an assumption he calmly busts with Fantastic Beasts. Like the new look at Harry Potter in general, he proves that he really is as competent, and imaginative, as the movies might have only had fans think. Matching him is Rowling, who proves she wasn't just doing this to further cash-in on her biggest success to date (now that there's been a lot of other stuff, too). Some critics have said Fantastic Beasts reveals the debt she owes Roald Dahl, which is true, but there's also L. Frank Baum, too, anyone who's done truly imaginative work in the grand tradition Rowling continues, really. There's even some Jumanji in there!
Where Yates proves that he was capable adapting even questionable material (his streamlined and incredibly effective improvement on Order of the Phoenix), Rowling demonstrates what she's learned since leaving behind the comforts of telling epic adventures one school year at a time. If there are those who begin to suspect a lot of Harry Potter storytelling was somewhat convenient, fans can watch Fantastic Beasts and finally see for themselves that Rowling needs no such crutches. This is a lot like the free-form nature of Deathly Hallows (both the book and movies) taken to its next logical extension.
In short (!), Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them is pretty fantastic.
the story: New Scamander travels to New York with a briefcase full of magical creatures, and things kind of spiral out of control from there.
what it's all about: In a lot of ways, judging the Harry Potter movies (all eight of them) was always going to be a tough proposition. There's a diehard subculture that believes movie adaptations by definition are inferior to their book counterparts. Actually, let me reword that: the prevailing opinion is that the book is always better than the movie. It's a persistent prejudice, one that never really takes into account the unique benefits of both mediums. To anyone who goes along with this line of reasoning, try to watch a movie based on a play. If it's not a musical, and particularly if it was done years ago, you'll find "staginess" in the movie that would otherwise not be there. That's the result of being excessively faithful to one version of a story at the expense of a different and wholly unique experience. What works on the stage works that way because of the particular confines of the stage, which do not exist in movies.
My point being, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them may in fact be the first real chance we get at how well the world of Harry Potter works in movies. It's only too appropriate that the movie is set in America, which is where the majority of moviegoers around the world expect blockbuster movies to be set. That's just one of the things it kind of automatically have going for it. But there's also the threat of franchise fatigue. Fans don't like to admit such a thing exists. But you only have to look at the muted reception of Peter Jackson's Hobbit trilogy to see it in action. If these movies had been released right after his highly acclaimed and enthusiastically received Lord of the Rings trilogy, fans would have reacted to them very differently. Franchise fatigue is a thing that happens mostly when fans have...moved on to something else. It's no surprise that the Star Wars prequels were relative failures when Star Wars-scale blockbusters suddenly happened all the time (including Jackson's Lord of the Rings, and yes, the Harry Potter series). But fans will attribute it to declining quality.
And actually, no matter how much lenience fans gave J.K. Rowling when she started to vastly increase the page-count of her books (the strain most showed in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, the second giant-size entry, and also the first one in the series directed by David Yates in the film adaptations, which will be important later in this review), this blind love has declined in recent years, as she's begun a career writing books specifically for adults, none of which (there have been four, including three detective stories, which will also be important later in this review). This is relevant, because of course Rowling wrote the screenplay for Fantastic Beasts, the first full-length story she's written in this series since 2007's Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (the book).
So there's no telling how enthusiastic fans, or critics, will be with this movie. But they should be pretty ecstatic, because it's a brilliant success, like the stage play, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, which debuted this past summer, an unexpected continuation as well as restatement of everything that worked so well about Harry Potter the first time.
The story revolves on a vaguely familiar character, the author of a textbook Rowling released in the real world, for charity, but more importantly, the lone Brit in the story, who's an instant connection to Hogwarts lore even though he's technically off entirely on his own. In a lot of ways, though, Rowling takes great pains to paint a portrait of the intrepid Newt Scamander very much in the mold of the beloved Rubeus Hagrid, the beloved groundskeeper portrayed by Robbie Coltrane in the movies, an outsider befriended by Dumbledore with a great love for magical creatures. But make no mistake: Newt is no Hagrid. In a lot of ways, he's what Harry Potter would have become if he hadn't found such stolid friends in Hermione and Ron, a sensitive soul with a fierce devotion to what he believes in, and an unwillingness to open up easily to others, fearing they just won't understand.
But the movie quickly pushes Newt in the direction of two helpful people, one being an American witch and the other a No-Maj, which is the American term for muggles. (Some critics have suggested that "No-Maj" is a clumsy term, but anyone who grew up with the Magi of the Bible, or heard a similar term in the Mummy movies featuring Brendan Fraser shouldn't have any problem accepting it.) Both of these characters add a wealth of inspiration to the movie, and help represent the uniquely American aspects of the movie. In their own ways, they represent Newt's Hermione (someone who knows what's the what) and Ron (a charming bumbler) without consciously evoking them. If I hadn't just pointed it out, I doubt you'd make the connections (not to insult you or anything).
And actually, Katherine Waterston's Tina Goldstein is more like Rowling's Robin from her Cormoran Strike mysteries, a woman who enjoys the thrill of the chase, even if it sometimes gets her into trouble. Dan Fogler's Jacob Kowalski is so protoptypically American he's also fat, which is what most people around the world (and quite a few Americans) have assumed is the standard model for years, even though American movies rarely reflect that (Paul Blart, Mall Cop not withstanding). His most interesting arc in the movie actually has nothing to do with Newt or Tina, but rather Tina's sister Queenie, played by Fine Frenzy, who would be a dead ringer for Idina Menzel. Queenie is mesmerized by Jacob, the first No-Maj she's ever known. The movie is actually about breaking through old modes of thought, and this is the easiest way it's demonstrated, and ends up finishing out the movie, too, so that you could very easily watch Fantastic Beasts as a completely standalone experience, whether or not subsequent sequels (there are four projected) picks up their story.
But these are all supporting players; Eddie Redmayne is, well, the main event. He's developed a reputation lately of being a mercurial performer, able to slip into the unlikeliest roles, whether Stephen Hawking in 2014's Theory of Everything or a transgendered woman in 2015's The Danish Girl. In Fantastic Beasts he brings almost lyrical physicality to the role of Newt Scamander, especially in a sequence where he coaxes a particularly troublesome creature back under control. He brings effortless charm to Newt, which is the crux of the movie's appeal, and how it sells further exploits into the world of Harry Potter as something that doesn't actually need Harry. In other words, he achieves the unthinkable.
There are other notable performances: Ezra Miller as the conflicted Credence (more on this later), Jon Voight as Henry Shaw Sr., Ron Perlman as Gnarlak, and Samantha Morton as Mary Lou, each of whom make indelible marks on fleshing out the American nature of the story. (The whole concept of the Second-Salemers is brilliant, addressing something that was missing in Harry Potter previously, a tangible connection to the past.) They have limited parts to play, so I won't spend too much time talking about them.
More notable is Colin Farrell as Percival Graves. I would've watched this movie even if I wasn't already a fan of Harry Potter (and Rowling), because I've been a fan of Farrell's for nearly a decade now. The Irish actor ironically plays an American in this one, as he has for the vast majority of his roles. Critics have been silent about his appearance, if not dismissive, but he brings to Fantastic Beasts what he brings to all his movies: a distinct, brooding presence. It's not just the eyebrows. Farrell tends to inhabit all his characters will three dimensions. This is not the first time he's spent the majority of his screen-time more or less silent (Dead Man Down, or even Miami Vice, or the most artistic example, The New World). His role as Graves is the most direct reflection of the deeper ramifications running through Fantastic Beasts, and by the time the movie ends it's easy enough to understand why (I'm not going to spoil that, but I would give those who know reason enough to keep an open mind; this is hardly the first time we've been asked to ignore the personal life of someone making movies, and not even the hardest one to stomach, which I would say is the career of Roman Polanski). Graves is almost Snape done all in one movie, but in the way fans expected rather than what Rowling eventually gave them. His relationship with Credence is a dark reflection of Newt's with Jacob, and the film greatly benefits from the contrast. I think Farrell is a powerful asset to the movie, and one of the few actors who could've pulled off such a tricky role.
Yates proves a deft hand as director once again. By the time he started directing Harry Potter movies, the material had existed so long it almost didn't matter who was at the helm anymore, but this is an assumption he calmly busts with Fantastic Beasts. Like the new look at Harry Potter in general, he proves that he really is as competent, and imaginative, as the movies might have only had fans think. Matching him is Rowling, who proves she wasn't just doing this to further cash-in on her biggest success to date (now that there's been a lot of other stuff, too). Some critics have said Fantastic Beasts reveals the debt she owes Roald Dahl, which is true, but there's also L. Frank Baum, too, anyone who's done truly imaginative work in the grand tradition Rowling continues, really. There's even some Jumanji in there!
Where Yates proves that he was capable adapting even questionable material (his streamlined and incredibly effective improvement on Order of the Phoenix), Rowling demonstrates what she's learned since leaving behind the comforts of telling epic adventures one school year at a time. If there are those who begin to suspect a lot of Harry Potter storytelling was somewhat convenient, fans can watch Fantastic Beasts and finally see for themselves that Rowling needs no such crutches. This is a lot like the free-form nature of Deathly Hallows (both the book and movies) taken to its next logical extension.
In short (!), Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them is pretty fantastic.
Sunday, November 6, 2016
Hyde Park on Hudson (2012)
rating: ****
the story: FDR develops a relationship with his fifth-cousin while entertaining British monarchs struggling with public relations problems.
what it's all about: It's a terrible shame that Hyde Park on Hudson was allowed to slip out of general awareness so easily. Bill Murray gives one of his few non-Bill Murray performances, which is to say he builds a performance, a character, other than Bill Murray. Now, Bill Murray being Bill Murray is usually a reliable source of entertainment, but it also creates a situation where the actor becomes highly underrated as a performer. This is what happened after his '80s boom, which stretched into the early '90s: like Robin Williams, it wasn't until he underwent a dramatic twist in the '00s that critics started taking Murray seriously again. You can pinpoint Lost in Translation, his melancholic study of jaded celebrity, as the turning point, and yet, all it really meant was that audiences continued to not really care about him anymore, and that critics did. (It was the same with Williams, who at least had been alternating serious and comedic roles all along, culminating in Good Will Hunting, at which point it seemed okay to forget he existed.)
What's ironic about all of this, in relation to Hyde Park, is that Murray's take on FDR is a complete revelation for reasons beyond Murray's performance. In a lot of ways, Hyde Park is a better version of the Oscar-winning The King's Speech, from a mere two years earlier. This was a fawning, unconvincing attempt to dramatize how poor King George got over his speech impediment and rallied the British against the Nazis. This was incredible for any number of reasons, not the least because history records Churchill as the lion of that cause, with nothing in King's Speech remotely contradicting it. Really, it was one long piece of propaganda, trying to justify continuing fascination with an increasingly irrelevant monarchy.
Where Hyde Park gets it right is making George and Elizabeth human rather than a bunch of movie stars gamely trying to hoodwink the audience. The fact that neither of the actors playing them are household names, where the ones playing Roosevelt and the two women in the spotlight around him (Murray, Laura Linney as the fifth-cousin, and Olivia Williams as Eleanor), none of whom resort to caricatures (the best thing about King's Speech is Geoffrey Rush being Geoffrey Rush, which is always a winning formula), are, goes to sort of prove the point. This is an intimate piece of history.
Granted, there's much dispute as to how factual it is. The fifth-cousin wrote about this affair in letters that didn't circulate for decades, and the characterization of Eleanor is called suspect, too, but the effect is itself a revelation: whether or not it's true, it still humanizes Roosevelt. There's this popular image of the polio-stricken president as superman, both for his New Deal and the way he handled WWII, along the way serving a historic three terms and being elected to four. Yet for all that, it's uncanny that he's all but dominated by his mother in this movie. Who knew?
It's that kind of insight that makes Hyde Park a truly winning experience, its leisurely pace, the way it not only contradicts everything we know about Murray, but also makes him almost incidental to the movie itself, which is narrated by Linney, who for whatever reason has fallen out of favor in Hollywood and with critics. Both of them further strong cases for already-stellar careers in this movie.
Right now there's a big struggle about the importance of seeming important in movies. I guess it mostly depends on whether or not it strikes the right note, whatever that means. I think most of why Hyde Park had to be downplayed was because King's Speech had already covered some of this territory and had gotten plenty of awards glitz for it. Critics couldn't very well admit that just a few years later someone did it better, and quite handily. They like to say bombast kills subtlety, but when it comes to which is bombastic and which is subtle, I think of the two, Hyde Park makes a good case for what truly merits applause.
Reduce it only to Murray's revelatory performance if you must. But on that score alone, Hyde Park on Hudson deserves much more attention than it's gotten.
the story: FDR develops a relationship with his fifth-cousin while entertaining British monarchs struggling with public relations problems.
what it's all about: It's a terrible shame that Hyde Park on Hudson was allowed to slip out of general awareness so easily. Bill Murray gives one of his few non-Bill Murray performances, which is to say he builds a performance, a character, other than Bill Murray. Now, Bill Murray being Bill Murray is usually a reliable source of entertainment, but it also creates a situation where the actor becomes highly underrated as a performer. This is what happened after his '80s boom, which stretched into the early '90s: like Robin Williams, it wasn't until he underwent a dramatic twist in the '00s that critics started taking Murray seriously again. You can pinpoint Lost in Translation, his melancholic study of jaded celebrity, as the turning point, and yet, all it really meant was that audiences continued to not really care about him anymore, and that critics did. (It was the same with Williams, who at least had been alternating serious and comedic roles all along, culminating in Good Will Hunting, at which point it seemed okay to forget he existed.)
What's ironic about all of this, in relation to Hyde Park, is that Murray's take on FDR is a complete revelation for reasons beyond Murray's performance. In a lot of ways, Hyde Park is a better version of the Oscar-winning The King's Speech, from a mere two years earlier. This was a fawning, unconvincing attempt to dramatize how poor King George got over his speech impediment and rallied the British against the Nazis. This was incredible for any number of reasons, not the least because history records Churchill as the lion of that cause, with nothing in King's Speech remotely contradicting it. Really, it was one long piece of propaganda, trying to justify continuing fascination with an increasingly irrelevant monarchy.
Where Hyde Park gets it right is making George and Elizabeth human rather than a bunch of movie stars gamely trying to hoodwink the audience. The fact that neither of the actors playing them are household names, where the ones playing Roosevelt and the two women in the spotlight around him (Murray, Laura Linney as the fifth-cousin, and Olivia Williams as Eleanor), none of whom resort to caricatures (the best thing about King's Speech is Geoffrey Rush being Geoffrey Rush, which is always a winning formula), are, goes to sort of prove the point. This is an intimate piece of history.
Granted, there's much dispute as to how factual it is. The fifth-cousin wrote about this affair in letters that didn't circulate for decades, and the characterization of Eleanor is called suspect, too, but the effect is itself a revelation: whether or not it's true, it still humanizes Roosevelt. There's this popular image of the polio-stricken president as superman, both for his New Deal and the way he handled WWII, along the way serving a historic three terms and being elected to four. Yet for all that, it's uncanny that he's all but dominated by his mother in this movie. Who knew?
It's that kind of insight that makes Hyde Park a truly winning experience, its leisurely pace, the way it not only contradicts everything we know about Murray, but also makes him almost incidental to the movie itself, which is narrated by Linney, who for whatever reason has fallen out of favor in Hollywood and with critics. Both of them further strong cases for already-stellar careers in this movie.
Right now there's a big struggle about the importance of seeming important in movies. I guess it mostly depends on whether or not it strikes the right note, whatever that means. I think most of why Hyde Park had to be downplayed was because King's Speech had already covered some of this territory and had gotten plenty of awards glitz for it. Critics couldn't very well admit that just a few years later someone did it better, and quite handily. They like to say bombast kills subtlety, but when it comes to which is bombastic and which is subtle, I think of the two, Hyde Park makes a good case for what truly merits applause.
Reduce it only to Murray's revelatory performance if you must. But on that score alone, Hyde Park on Hudson deserves much more attention than it's gotten.
Thursday, September 15, 2016
Hell or High Water - a cultural inquiry
Hell or High Water has become one of the surprise hits of 2016 in limited release, one of the movies being touted as everything the year's big blockbusters have gotten completely wrong. I knew the minute I saw the trailer the first time that I wanted to watch this movie. I'm extremely glad that Chris Pine has finally managed to find something that has unabashedly pleased everyone. Outside of Star Trek, he's continued to flounder despite natural talent and charisma, leaving many to wonder whatever happened to him. Except he's kind of like Tom Hardy (whom he costarred with in This Means War) or Colin Farrell, a go-to talent no matter how big a box office draw he fails to be, or critics magnet.
The problem I now face, however, is how much I want to support something that may be succeeding mostly because it continues a disturbing trend from the turn of the millennium of popular culture unabashedly embracing antiheroes, most of whom are far less redeemable than Pine and Ben Foster's characters in Hell or High Water happen to be (a couple of Merry Men). I know Americans tend to have sympathy for this type, from Depression-era gangsters to their post-Civil War hellion predecessors, and maybe it's just shocking to see first-hand just how much they really are embraced in the culture. The thing is, these are fictional characters this time. Walter White never existed. The heroes of this era are actively flouting the laws of society, actively trying to reshape it. I mean, I know Prohibition proved to be a horrible idea, but there's no reason we should hero-worship the folks who kept serving up alcohol anyway, much less their descendants.
Pine and Foster seem to be a sort of Jesse James gang. One of my favorite movies is The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, which kind of takes for granted Jesse's mystique and inherent worth to the culture. Among everything else it most certainly is hero-worship. Hell or High Water is also kind of like No Country for Old Men, with Jeff Bridges taking over for Tommy Lee Jones, and Pine and Foster being less hapless than Josh Brolin. Because Pine and Foster are easier to root for, there will probably be few comparisons between them, but the idea is basically the same. Both are about moral ambiguity, new-style Westerns, and the shifting landscape of the country.
I love that Pine went minimalist for the movie, which is what he did in Star Trek Beyond, too, although fewer people noticed because of all the action happening around him. His versatility has always been considerable (just watch him in Smokin' Aces...if you can spot him!), and thanks to his breakthrough in Hell or High Water, other people are noticing him, too. It only figures that he finally had to play an antihero to prove it, because he's so consistently played heroes over the past few years, it's no wonder he was considered one-note.
Maybe I don't have to worry too much about it. I mean, I love Batman, too, don't I? The Dark Knight was basically one long argument for finally seeing him for the lawbreaker he is, and why that may not be as bad a thing as it might seem. When done right, antiheroes are heroes. When done wrong, they're not nearly as worth supporting as it can sometimes seem. But Hell or High Water seems to have done its job in finding the distinction. It just might be one of the most important movies of the year.
Wednesday, August 17, 2016
Fantasy films 1982-2008
Today we're going to talk a little about these movies:
The Dark Crystal (1982)
The NeverEnding Story (1984)
Return to Oz (1985)
Legend (1985)
Labyrinth (1986)
The Princess Bride (1987)
Willow (1988)
Hellboy (2004)
Pan's Labyrinth (2006)
The Fall (2008)
Today's discussion is about fantasy movies. Obviously, it's a subject today that involves the Harry Potter films and Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings and Hobbit trilogies, but for my purposes these will be omitted so we can concentrate on the '80s push that helped make them possible, as well as a few other more recent entries.
Jim Henson's production offices got the ball rolling back during the first season of Saturday Night Live, where the concepts behind The Dark Crystal were first explored. The same company later developed Labyrinth, which has been the standard memory of the '80s fantasy push, thanks in part to the participation of David Bowie and Jennifer Connelly. Younger fantasy fans had The NeverEnding Story and its sequel, while Return to Oz was an attempt to follow-up the iconic Wizard of Oz.
Legend proved to be a bomb, and only took on cult status when Ridley Scott later released a director's cut. It can be argued that Legend has the longest creative legacy. Besides the look of Hellboy (which evokes Tim Curry's character in the movie), it can also be said to have inspired Pan's Labyrinth, the breakthrough critical success of Guillermo del Toro. Willow might be said to be the first attempt at correcting the perceived mistakes of Legend.
Following the mixed fortunes of these early efforts, The Princess Bride went in an entirely different direction, downplaying the fantasy elements and instead focusing on the comedic potential of the humans involved. The Fall later went further and made the whole thing dramatic.
It's interesting to think of these movies in relation to each other, whether or not the filmmakers did at the time they were being made. Genre fans will no doubt have spent some time comparing them, or simply making preferences (that's the business of being a genre fan right there). Some of them will no doubt have fallen through the cracks, so that unless you know they exist you might think the ones you do know are all you need to know. Hollywood has never embraced fantasy as fully as other genres, which makes the '80s explosion all the more notable. Yet, with the genre's fanciful elements, these films are often the source of remarkable creativity, and as such are capable of being among the most breathtaking movies you'll ever experience.
Tuesday, July 26, 2016
Ryan Reynolds' identity crisis: Smokin' Aces, Self/Less, Deadpool, and Criminal
Smokin' Aces (2006)
Self/Less (2015)
Deadpool (2016)
Criminal (2016)
In 2006's Smokin' Aces, Joe Carnahan's ensemble action flick, Ryan Reynolds plays FBI agent Richard Messner, who is assigned to protect federal witness Buddy Israel. By the end of the movie, we learn what's so special about Buddy (nicknamed "Aces," and so the name of the movie literally translates to the act of assassinating him, not the cast of characters who attempt to do so), and it leads Reynolds as the most important figure in the story, as he alone gets to decide what's to become of Buddy.
The theme of identity, which is what Smokin' Aces is all about, ends up playing a big role in Reynolds' later career. Aside his first shot at playing Deadpool in 2009's X-Men Origins: Wolverine, which becomes its own meta identity crisis, Reynolds would later explore this idea in 2015's Self/Less as well as in 2016's Deadpool and Criminal. And somehow, no one really seems to have noticed, least of all critics who wrote unfavorably about Criminal, when the trend had become blazingly obvious.
I was always a fan of Smokin' Aces. It has a killer cast (including Chris Pine's best performance to-date), and was the first time I took notice of Reynolds (which turned out to be somewhat ironic, given his part's later significance). I was also a fan of director Tarsem going into Self/Less, which may be why I liked it better than most fans (including critics, who didn't even notice that this whole movie is literally about the second life dilemma, to the point where hardly a scene goes by without an additional layer of second life material being added to the story's rich tapestry). Everyone knew how passionate Reynolds was to get Deadpool made, but few could have guessed that its resulting shape would look so much like Self/Less (much less Smokin' Aces). so when he popped up as the prior life Kevin Costner assumes in Criminal, I kind of had to assume that at this point, it can't possibly be coincidence.
In fact, knowing Deadpool would be covering familiar territory, that was how I found most of my enjoyment from the breakout superhero flick, which has otherwise been hailed as a breath of fresh air in that genre. I thought its noisiness wasn't all that noteworthy, but found it fun to see all the points where it lines right up with Self/Less. While I haven't seen Criminal yet, I imagine there's plenty to enjoy about it in that regard, too.
There are so many people today who take this sort of thing as an insult to storytelling, that if plot points are at all similar, you have to automatically reject the newer story's creative value. I don't agree at all. Every story is different, particularly in movies, where casting so often dictates the results. It's funny that Reynolds is at the center of a convergence like this, but it only makes it that much easier to appreciate how the theme varies in each iteration, how different it looks each time. I mean, who else would even have compared Deadpool with Self/Less, which was a box office bust?
This is how I approach movies, and storytelling in general. Yeah, it's cool to like the popular stuff, whether with audiences or critics, but it takes some greater conviction to look beyond what other people are saying, and simply judge the material for yourself. There's a lot to say about creative vision, no matter how it represents itself, and the ability to appreciate the subtle things that make it resonate.
You could take two or three of these movies, and still enjoy their comparisons. Take all four, and you start to see how far this way of looking at movies, at storytelling, really goes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)