Wednesday, January 14, 2015
I love musicals. I went to the theatre in hopes of a good one. And I've never been so bored by one. The narrative unwinds almost completely in the third act, and by that time, the irony of the play is all but lost upon the director. The movie first derails when the baker's wife says her husband has changed in the woods, and we, the audience, know he hasn't. But I think the director wants us to believe her, and so it seems Rob Marshall, director of Chicago, has no clue what's happening in a very good Sondheim musical. Here's a roll call of issues: Johnny Depp's wolf is horribly out of place; Red Ridinghood's song makes no sense if nothing sexual has happened to her; the death of the giant makes no sense in the film (yes, I know it's supposed to happen, but it makes the director seem inept to offer no moral fallout from Jack's decision to kill her); Chris Pine and Emily Blunt hook up in the most abrupt, sloppy fashion; Emily Blunt's onscreen death is offscreen and nonsensical as a motivating factor, as the director plays it. It seems like a movie designed to lull audiences into buying everything they're seeing at face value, rather than questioning the characters' numerous immoral and selfish choices. You can see and feel how Disney ground the teeth down on this one. If I'd had a watch, friends, I would've checked it.
Written by James Lapine
Directed by Rob Marshall
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
There's a beautiful simplicity at work in the narrative of Boyhood, a mature, confident sense of storytelling, though the story being told is hardly simple. The narrative moves through twelve years fluidly, seamlessly. And it's honest, so honest that it understands the way sons and fathers and mothers and daughters often communicate peripherally with each other, both hearing and not hearing. When Mason Jr. remarks to his father that a little more patience on his mother's part might have saved him from a parade of drunks, the moment is both great and small, so great it holds the key to understanding everything Mason Jr. yearned for as a boy, so small Mason Sr. misses it in a swig of beer. This is just one of the marvelous contradictions that the narrative embraces about people's lives. Olivia wants to make a family, but she cannot pick good men (she doesn't need them, a lesson she fails to learn until after husband two; she is a teacher who lectures on conditioned responses, yet her own responses are as conditioned by society's short-sighted notions about the typical family structure as anyone else's). Mason Jr. wants to be in the moment, to experience life apart from the parameters that society sets (there's a funny scene where the absurdity of Facebook and our Pavlovian responses to it feels less like a lecture than another of the movie's marvelous, simple, and honest contradictions). Mason Sr. is the wayward boy who finds his way late in life, a musician who ultimately takes a job with an insurance company; yet this is not a sacrifice, as he finds expression for his music through his family. Family saves us and condemns us, the narrative affirms, time and time again. A mother rescues her children from a drunk. A mother marries another drunk. A father takes his children to the park. A father cannot be a grown-up. Central to the narrative, also, is the notion of life as a cyclical force, one that wheels forward through time and always comes back round upon itself. At the movie's end, Mason Jr. has come to the sunset of one such cycle and stands upon the precipice of another, and all around him are the desert, the rocks, the river worn and moved by time. And present in this moment that has surely seized them: a boy and a girl, who seem poised to start the cycle anew. Smiling at each other peripherally. Communicating the way we do, in a moment both great and small. And honest.
Written and directed by Richard Linklater
Sunday, September 21, 2014
- Captain America: The Winter Soldier — 3 BANANAS
- X-Men: First Class — 2 BANANAS
- Only Lovers Left Alive — 5 BANANAS
- Dawn of the Planet of the Apes — 4 BANANAS
- Snowpiercer — 4 BANANAS
- Edge of Tomorrow — 2 BANANAS
- Rocky III (at the Alamo Ritz in Austin) — 4 BANANAS
- Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles — 2 BANANAS
- The Expendables III — 2 BANANAS
- Guardians of the Galaxy — 5 BANANAS
The trend, at a glance, was mediocre or great. And strange. After all, an August movie featuring a cameo by Howard the Duck and Andy Dwyer as an action hero claimed the top spot at the summer box office and completely redefined the space opera and comic book genres. July gave us a ponderous, cynical, brilliant film featuring machine-gun wielding apes on horseback that was, for my money, the best picture of the summer. And then there was the Alamo Ritz screening of Rocky III: men in short shorts plunging through the surf and a forty-dollar art print of Mr. T. And who could forget Snowpiercer, the movie we should have seen at Lakeline instead of the Tom Cruise movie they still can't decide what to name, a brilliant bit of dystopian sci-fi watched streaming via Amazon for half the price of a single theatre ticket, children in the gears of great machines and Chris Evans wielding an axe?
Disappointments, there were some: Bryan Singer's return to X-Men was a mess; Ninja Turtles lacked everything but cool Ninja Turtles; and Expendables III — well, Harrison Ford's helicopter was computer-generated. Thank God the Falcon won't be.
Here's looking forward to the fall.
Some movies hit at just the right moment. Tim Burton's Batman came along the summer I turned eleven. That's the age, I'd argue, for girls or boys, when the heart's a-yearning for a grand fantasy. Some of us were lucky enough to be eleven when the world was offering just such a fantasy. For me, Batman was the catalyst that awoke a movie-lover's soul. It also introduced me to the world of fandom (which I would now say is more or less a clever disguise for a marketing demographic): I bought lobby cards, comic books, a novelization of the script, posters, action figures, rubber masks, rubber gauntlets. I had the breakfast cereal. The Batwing. The Batmobile. I asked Mom to order a copy of the Warner Bros. catalogue and checked off three pages of merchandise for Christmas that year. Pins. Playing cards. Even a laugh-box. She made me a homemade costume out of a gray sweatsuit, black fabric, and cardboard (for the ears). Like every other eleven-year-old boy in America, I was swept along by the rising tide of "Batmania," and, in many ways, this would be the beginning of the rest of my life.
Sunday, June 15, 2014
In addition to being terribly written at almost every turn, Maleficent is an ill-conceived project. Re-imaginings don't have free reign to violate the ground rules established by the source material; Disney's 1959 film, Sleeping Beauty, establishes that Maleficent is evil. It begs no question as to why she's evil, but if we assume that the leaping-off point for Linda Woolverton's 2014 script is that question, we're still on solid enough footing. The trailers seemed to suggest a story along those lines, i.e. an origin tale. But it seems Angelina Jolie and Linda Woolverton want us to walk out thinking their Maleficent is a big spectacle movie about regaining one's femininity after horrible abuse. It is certainly that (if you accept the film's definition of "feminine"), but that's not the story at the heart of an iconic character like Maleficent. She is, like it or not, folks, a Disney villain, and villains have certain reputations to uphold in Disney properties, namely being villainous. And so Maleficent, not at all that villainous or frightening (whoops), is, first and foremost, a miscalculated re-imagining. Its aims are smaller than tragedy, which might have been the best, grandest, and most sympathetic re-imagining of the character.
The movie's worst offense, by far, is its misguided attempt to make some kind of post-feminist statement about maternity and femininity; unfortunately, it ultimately suggests that the only valid woman is a woman adept at handling babies. In this, it's flat-out anti-feminist and reductive, though it thinks it's something else entirely. The proof of this is in its treatment of the three fairies who take Aurora into the woods to raise her. Their depiction here is deplorable; each is a terrible caricature of the big three sins a woman can commit: being old, being dumb, and being pretty. If the screenwriter actually subverted these stereotypes and made them effective characters, that would be something, but she doesn't. As written, they're stupid and offensive. What purpose their mistreatment by the writer serves I can't fathom. In Sleeping Beauty, these three are, arguably, the heroines of the tale, saving the princess from Maleficent's designs. Here, they're responsible for nothing but cheap laughs (and they're not the least bit funny, as they're not the least bit true to any portrait of real women; if Maleficent deserves our respect as a woman-fairy, why don't they?).
The men in the film are almost all just as offensively monstrous or stupid, even more so when you consider that the king, Stefan, was known as "Good King Stefan" in the source material. In his character, perhaps, the screenwriter's offense is greatest: the "rape" of Maleficent is handled with such fetishistic nastiness (a chain!) that it feels horribly out of place in a Disney film. It's jarring, and while jarring is sometimes a prized effect, it only serves to remind us, here, in the most inelegant fashion, that men are selfish bastards. Only the crow, Diaval, Maleficent's servant, seems to have a conscience, to know the right thing to do, and what is his reward, as a man? He spends the entire movie enslaved by the title character (an act for which she is never called to account). In the end, Maleficent forces him to assume the form of a dragon in order to save herself, using him as a kind of male shield against the soldiers' spears and chains. This is how she treats the one male character who's been more than generous to her throughout the film. Is this suggesting that it's perfectly acceptable to manipulate men, if one's motives are selfish enough? What, also, is the death of King Stefan meant to satisfy? Maleficent, at least, doesn't kill him, but she doesn't save him either. So men deserve what they get? And Aurora's just okay with this?
Do you know the term "misandrist"? I had to look it up. My Google search went something like this: "opposite of chauvinist." Of course, we all know what a chauvinist is: it's when a man hates and mistreats women because he's a stupid male asshole. But what do we call it when women hate men? It's not a term very many of us are familiar with, and for good reason: men have, traditionally, been the ones in power, and it's not a common conversation that starts with, "Boy, men are so oppressed!" Still, this doesn't mean all men are natural impediments to women, but I think, ultimately, this is the narrow-minded point of view of Maleficent.
Bringing it back to the idea of this as a re-imagining of the source material: who is this movie for? If you're a fan of the original animated Sleeping Beauty, it's going to disappoint you profoundly. If you're a young boy, you're going to have a hard time finding any character you can identify with, unless you're a burgeoning psychopath. If you're a young girl, well, you may wonder why this feels nothing like any other Disney movie you've ever seen, and I do hope, sincerely, that someone makes a strong argument on the film's behalf and delineates, very clearly, just what's happening with that chain and potion. Or maybe you get that on every level it's meant to be gotten. But what I'm trying to say here is that Maleficent is far too clunky, as written, too unwieldy, to shoulder such heavy burdens as these. Its ambition exceeds its grasp, and its grasp is painfully weak. It eschews beauty and timelessness for complexity and timeliness, and in doing so collapses under its own dismal weight.
Written by Linda Woolverton
Directed by Robert Stromberg
Sunday, May 18, 2014
There's a grandeur to Gareth Edwards' Godzilla that summer movies − or American movies in general, really − haven't seen in quite a while. It's moody, atmospheric, and well directed. My only complaint is that I would have liked a sharper lead than Aaron Taylor-Johnson. A grinner, a thinker. A winker. A young Richard Dreyfuss, since Edwards is so keen on JAWS. Hooper, in this case, would have been a much finer template for a lead. That said, Mr. Edwards has secured his place in American cinema as one its brightest new lights (like so many good American things these days, he's British). His Monsters is magnificent, and to have two such films, now, under his belt, I imagine the sky's the limit for his future. Or maybe the limits reach far past the sky: here's hoping someone gives the boy a Star Wars film to direct. A New Hope is, after all, his favorite movie.
Written by Max Borenstein
Directed by Gareth Edwards
Monday, May 05, 2014
I believe it's good and necessary that comic book movies be not geared toward die-hard fans but the general masses; fandom, I'm rapidly starting to think, may be ruining American cinema. And so my gripes, these days, have nothing to do with how characters are born on screen vs. the page or whether that's the right costume design for the character. More often than not, I only want good, solid storytelling. Laziness or hackneyed writing I can spot a mile off. These days I measure the success of a superhero movie by the number of times I wince or grunt when something patently sloppy or lazy happens. I think it's a fair test, the grunt-o-meter, given that hundreds of millions of dollars are spent on these things. Marc Webb's Amazing Spider-Man 2 never caused me to grunt or wince when it came to special effects or the chemistry of its two, yes, amazing leads, but there were a number of grunts, all the same. Why, for instance, are there three endings to this film? Could it be because there are
Written by seven people (I wasn't kidding)
Directed by Marc Webb