This is part of my continuing series looking back on films from the years before I began this blog. The ten films below are unranked and listed in no particular order. Enjoy.
2001: A Space Odyssey - For context, I like to point out that Stanley Kubrick's film came out a year before the 1969 moon landing, and images of space travel in the wider culture were still very rudimentary. So the arrival of "2001," with its lovingly lensed, scientifically accurate spaceships, space flight, and zero gravity was a total revolution in how everyone conceived of outer space on film. With its highly abstract epic narrative, slow pacing, and magnificent light show special effects, "2001" was all about delivering a totally new experience - and it's still the ultimate trip.
Planet of the Apes - Yes, it has one of the most famous tragic plot twists of all time, but the preceding two hours contain some of the finest science-fiction filmmaking of the decade. Even before we get to the ape society, the opening scenes are wonderfully strange and suspenseful. Then come revelation after revelation, all designed to provoke the viewer to question their own assumptions about evolution, human nature, and the natural order. It was designed to be an anti-proliferation fable, but the film's larger warnings about human hubris still ring true today.
Romeo and Juliet - I never found the Shakespeare play all that engaging, believing the melodrama too extreme when I was younger, but the Franco Zeffirelli adaptation made me think twice. He creates a Verona where the social order is drastically different from the present day, where our tragic young lovers, played by actual teenagers for once, credibly face life and death situations as part of their daily lives. So, naturally, their love is equally fraught with risk and danger. It's all terribly convincing, and terribly moving. And I absolutely fell in love with it.
Funny Girl - Every time I think about Barbra Streisand starring in the '70s "A Star is Born" remake, I always mistakenly think of her in this film. "Funny Girl" is one of William Wyler's last masterpieces, and it made Streisand a household name. She's stunning as the Golden Age entertainer Fanny Brice, and arguably the prototype for an entirely different breed of comedic heroine that would become popular in the '70s. Frankly, I don't know why Streisand did "A Star is Born" when she had made a perfect version of the story already in "Funny Girl."
Head - The Monkees made a movie as a follow-up to their popular television show. This movie was not, however, interested in maintaining the cuddly, popular image of the Monkees, but was more interested in subverting and dissecting it. As a result, "Head" is a weird piece of counter-culture psychedelia where the Monkees keep clashing with bits and pieces of their own onscreen personae, sometimes doing battle with them, sometimes sending them up, and always looking for a way to escape. Energetic song numbers, chase sequences, and cameos abound.
Hour of the Wolf - My favorite Ingmar Bergman film, the one I felt got the closest to full scale horror. He depicts madness and insomnia and plenty of existential dread in more straightforward terms here than he usually does, going so far as to actually put some of the protagonist's disturbing visions onscreen. However, the most moving images are of the characters simply relaying their thoughts to the audience in a darkened frame, alone on the edge of the abyss. Liv Ullman gives one of her best performances, and is center stage for the devastating final shot.
The Lion in Winter - I do so love it when older actors get a chance to really seize the screen and show that they're not finished yet. And so it is with Katherine Hepburn, who at sixty is still holding her own against a passel of actors half her age, in a delicious dark comedy about the deeply dysfunctional family of King Henry II. There's a modern humor and irony to how they interact and provoke each other that's so electrifying, and the dynamics of the different relationships is fascinating to see explored. It's a small film, and very theatrical, but impossible to deny.
Oliver! - Splashy musicals were definitely on their way out by the late 1960s, but there were plenty of good ones still being made. Carol Reed's "Oliver!" - based on the popular stage musical - stands out as an old fashioned charmer with a lot of good performances and a lot of good, hummable music. Ron Moody is the clear MVP as the conniving Fagin, and the kids are treated with unusual sensitivity. Though the spectacle is staged wonderfully, it's Carol's facility with the thrills and the stirring melodrama that really make this adaptation memorable.
The Swimmer - Though the behind-the-scenes clashes resulted in Frank Perry losing control of the film, this is one of the best things that he and partner Eleanor Perry ever made. It's a strange, absorbing allegorical fable about a man discovering his true nature via a series of swimming pool encounters. Burt Lancaster is fantastic as the curious Ned Merrill, but it's the vicious satire of the suburban set that really gives the film an edge. It's a hard one to categorize, but "The Swimmer" provides a valuable look at the dark side of the American psyche.
The Thomas Crown Affair - Where to begin? The cat-and-mouse games with Steve McQueen and Faye Dunway at their most personable and charming? The dazzling split screen action sequences? The Michel Legrande score? "The Windmills of Your Mind"? Roger Ebert complained that the film was too much style over too little substance, but the style is so much fun. The movie is endlessly indulgent of everyone involved in its creation - and it's irresistible.
Honorable mention:
The Love Bug
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Wednesday, April 29, 2020
Monday, April 27, 2020
"Ford v. Ferrari" and "Bombshell"
Still getting through the backlog of Oscar hopefuls.
James Mangold's "Ford v. Ferrari," released in some markets as "Le Mans '66," is an old fashioned sports film with a slightly unconventional narrative. It's about two underdogs, car designer Carroll Shelby (Matt Damon) and driver Ken Miles (Christian Bale), joining forces to help Henry Ford II (Tracy Letts), head of auto giant Ford, compete in the notorious Le Mans sportscar race against his rival, Enzo Ferrari (Remo Girone), founder of Ferrari.
The major antagonist of the film isn't Ferrari, though, but the corporate hierarchy of Ford, which stifles creativity and innovation. It's the asshole executive Leo Beebe (Josh Lucas), who is constantly getting in the way and finding new ways to undermine Miles and Shelby's efforts. Being able to compete in Le Mans first involves a lot of politicking, negotiation, and outright manipulation, especially when it comes to putting loose cannon Miles behind the wheel. Once the movie gets to Le Mans, it's a more typical, by-the-numbers sports movie, executed beautifully. On a technical level, it is everything you want in a racing picture - lovingly shot and edited, wonderfully paced, and very visceral. You have strong characters you want to root for, and I like that the story has elements of a biopic for Shelby and Miles, without actually being a biopic.
The performances are excellent all around. I like Christian Bale here better than I've liked most of his recent work. He's playing another walking disaster with a lot of quirks, but he's a lot more genial about it here than in films like "The Fighter." Damon is solid as the more pragmatic Shelby, and shines in the behind-the-scenes clashes. It's easy to see why the pair were chosen as the focus of the film, as they're far more sympathetic than the title characters and clearly deserving of the spotlight. However, focusing the film so exclusively on the Ford side of the fight limits the film's scope. I could have used a little more context about the racing world and Le Mans itself. And while "Ford v. Ferrari" is a very well-made, engaging entry into the genre, it doesn't quite have the verve or the artistry to put it up there with the racing movie greats, like "Rush" and "Senna."
On to "Bombshell," the doggedly myopic dramatization of Fox News impresario Roger Ailes' downfall due to sexual misconduct allegations. Director Jay Roach's approach here is to largely ignore the right wing politics of Fox News' content, and focus on the day-to-day operations of the organization and the relationships of the major players - Ailes (John LIthgow), Megyn Kelly (Charlize Theron), Gretchen Carlson (Nicole Kidman), and a composite character named Kayla (Margot Robbie). All the performances are great, the scandal unfolds in an engrossing fashion, and clearly there was a lot of care put into the portrayals of the many, many familiar faces involved.
However, it is very strange to be watching a movie about major figures at Fox News in a narrative that is so classically the sort of female empowerment booster than conservatives usually raise eyebrows at.
It's telling that Kelly and Carlsen are positioned as sympathetic because they are shown to go against Fox's usual narratives. Kelly ignites a firestorm for asking then-candidate Donald Trump about his behavior towards women. Carlson lands in hot water for favoring sensible gun control on air. No matter how often the characters are made to protest that they aren't feminist, you can tell that the filmmakers have other ideas. What's disappointing is that though great efforts are made to address the toxic environment of the Fox newsroom, nobody involved is brave enough to really confront the protagonists' own hypocrisies that keep cropping up.
So, I can admire Gretchen Carlson's legal tactics, and respect Megyn Kelly's guts for speaking out, and sympathize with the ambitious Kayla. However, I couldn't bring myself to root for them, because "Bombshell" never feels entirely honest in its portrayals of a set of very morally complicated people. If you take the film at face value, it's good for some general female empowerment vibes and a few jabs at the corporate culture of Fox News. However, dig past the surface and the gaps an omissions appear immediately. I came away very dissatisfied with it.
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James Mangold's "Ford v. Ferrari," released in some markets as "Le Mans '66," is an old fashioned sports film with a slightly unconventional narrative. It's about two underdogs, car designer Carroll Shelby (Matt Damon) and driver Ken Miles (Christian Bale), joining forces to help Henry Ford II (Tracy Letts), head of auto giant Ford, compete in the notorious Le Mans sportscar race against his rival, Enzo Ferrari (Remo Girone), founder of Ferrari.
The major antagonist of the film isn't Ferrari, though, but the corporate hierarchy of Ford, which stifles creativity and innovation. It's the asshole executive Leo Beebe (Josh Lucas), who is constantly getting in the way and finding new ways to undermine Miles and Shelby's efforts. Being able to compete in Le Mans first involves a lot of politicking, negotiation, and outright manipulation, especially when it comes to putting loose cannon Miles behind the wheel. Once the movie gets to Le Mans, it's a more typical, by-the-numbers sports movie, executed beautifully. On a technical level, it is everything you want in a racing picture - lovingly shot and edited, wonderfully paced, and very visceral. You have strong characters you want to root for, and I like that the story has elements of a biopic for Shelby and Miles, without actually being a biopic.
The performances are excellent all around. I like Christian Bale here better than I've liked most of his recent work. He's playing another walking disaster with a lot of quirks, but he's a lot more genial about it here than in films like "The Fighter." Damon is solid as the more pragmatic Shelby, and shines in the behind-the-scenes clashes. It's easy to see why the pair were chosen as the focus of the film, as they're far more sympathetic than the title characters and clearly deserving of the spotlight. However, focusing the film so exclusively on the Ford side of the fight limits the film's scope. I could have used a little more context about the racing world and Le Mans itself. And while "Ford v. Ferrari" is a very well-made, engaging entry into the genre, it doesn't quite have the verve or the artistry to put it up there with the racing movie greats, like "Rush" and "Senna."
On to "Bombshell," the doggedly myopic dramatization of Fox News impresario Roger Ailes' downfall due to sexual misconduct allegations. Director Jay Roach's approach here is to largely ignore the right wing politics of Fox News' content, and focus on the day-to-day operations of the organization and the relationships of the major players - Ailes (John LIthgow), Megyn Kelly (Charlize Theron), Gretchen Carlson (Nicole Kidman), and a composite character named Kayla (Margot Robbie). All the performances are great, the scandal unfolds in an engrossing fashion, and clearly there was a lot of care put into the portrayals of the many, many familiar faces involved.
However, it is very strange to be watching a movie about major figures at Fox News in a narrative that is so classically the sort of female empowerment booster than conservatives usually raise eyebrows at.
It's telling that Kelly and Carlsen are positioned as sympathetic because they are shown to go against Fox's usual narratives. Kelly ignites a firestorm for asking then-candidate Donald Trump about his behavior towards women. Carlson lands in hot water for favoring sensible gun control on air. No matter how often the characters are made to protest that they aren't feminist, you can tell that the filmmakers have other ideas. What's disappointing is that though great efforts are made to address the toxic environment of the Fox newsroom, nobody involved is brave enough to really confront the protagonists' own hypocrisies that keep cropping up.
So, I can admire Gretchen Carlson's legal tactics, and respect Megyn Kelly's guts for speaking out, and sympathize with the ambitious Kayla. However, I couldn't bring myself to root for them, because "Bombshell" never feels entirely honest in its portrayals of a set of very morally complicated people. If you take the film at face value, it's good for some general female empowerment vibes and a few jabs at the corporate culture of Fox News. However, dig past the surface and the gaps an omissions appear immediately. I came away very dissatisfied with it.
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Saturday, April 25, 2020
PIXAR Goes "Onward"
I was not looking forward to this one. "Onward,"without a doubt, is the least appealing looking PIXAR movie by a wide margin. The characters are very visually derivative. I've seen a lot of chatter about "Onward" looking like a Dreamworks film, and that's not off the mark. Half the cast could be mistaken for extras from "Shrek" or "Trolls." The designs look clunky, garish, with many clashing elements. To be fair, this is part of the film's premise. The world of "Onward," we are told, began as a typical "Dungeons & Dragons" fantasy land full of magical creatures, but magic was eventually abandoned in favor of easier and more reliable scientific advancement. This resulted in their world essentially becoming contemporary America - full of chain restaurants, construction crews, and minivans - except populated with brightly colored elves, ogres, trolls, and pixies.
A lot of cinephiles have also drawn comparisons between the "Onward" and "Bright," the Will Smith fantasy film that also puts elves and trolls into contemporary urban settings. I think that "Onward" has more in common with "Futurama" and its sister show "Disenchanted," specifically in how its humor works. Most of the traditional fantasy elements in "Onwards" are used as visual gags. Unicorns are varmints, to be chased away from garbage cans. Dragons are lovable but destructive family pets. There are lots of puns and references to be found in the signage and naming schemes, and laughs are often mined from contrasting the mundane world with the fantastical. But as result, the worldbuilding feels slapdash, more often going for the obvious joke than really thinking through how centaurs might have designed their cars, or how classrooms would accommodate all the different creatures. And, frankly, that's not the approach we usually see from PIXAR and Disney, which have given us the gorgeously rendered worlds of "Zootopia," "Wreck-it-Ralph," "Coco," and "Inside Out" over the past few years.
So, I was surprised to discover that the core story and characters of "Onward" are absolutely solid. In fact, this is easily the strongest PIXAR film since "Coco," and had the potential to be something even better. Our protagonists are a pair of elf brothers, Ian (Tom Holland), who has just turned sixteen, and his older brother Barley (Chris Pratt), who is in the middle of the "longest gap year ever." Their father died before Ian was born, but left behind a magic staff and a spell that allows the boys to resurrect him for a single day. Of course, the spell goes wrong, sending the brothers on an old fashioned adventure quest together in Barley's beloved van, Guinevere. Other characters include a Manticore (Olivia Spencer), the boys' mother Laurel (Julia Louis Dreyfuss), her centaur boyfriend Officer Bronco (Mel Rodriguez), and assorted other elves, cyclopses, fauns, and pixies.
It took a while for "Onward" to win me over, but then it took a while for the movie to find its groove. There's a lot of place setting and exposition before Ian and Barley are properly on their way, bonding and adventuring together. And once they are, the PIXAR magic finally kicks in - not the business with Ian learning magic spells, but the touching portrayal of family bonds being tested, and the boys both facing their fears and growing up a bit. "Onward" is a great movie for anyone who has siblings, and especially for anyone who has experienced the loss of a family member. It never fails to impress me how well PIXAR's filmmakers handle these difficult themes and emotions. They deftly avoid the obvious answers, opting for more meaningful resolutions and character growth.
So, it frustrates me to no end that all the fantasy trappings and aesthetic choices for "Onward" are so half-baked. Sure, the animators get some good laughs out of dependably strong character animation and I love everything about the Manticore character. Fantasy enthusiasts should have fun picking out the "Lord of the Rings" and "Dungeons & Dragons" references throughout. However, I realized that "Onward" really didn't get much out of having the story set in an urbanized fantasy world. Ian and Barley could have been human beings who learn their Dad was a wizard, and little about the story would have changed. I doubt most viewers will care, and many will find the offbeat fantasy world charming. I, however, found its deficiencies distracting to the point that it took away from the film.
There's still a very good film here with some strong messages and plenty of heart - but good grief, it's an ugly mutt of a movie.
---
A lot of cinephiles have also drawn comparisons between the "Onward" and "Bright," the Will Smith fantasy film that also puts elves and trolls into contemporary urban settings. I think that "Onward" has more in common with "Futurama" and its sister show "Disenchanted," specifically in how its humor works. Most of the traditional fantasy elements in "Onwards" are used as visual gags. Unicorns are varmints, to be chased away from garbage cans. Dragons are lovable but destructive family pets. There are lots of puns and references to be found in the signage and naming schemes, and laughs are often mined from contrasting the mundane world with the fantastical. But as result, the worldbuilding feels slapdash, more often going for the obvious joke than really thinking through how centaurs might have designed their cars, or how classrooms would accommodate all the different creatures. And, frankly, that's not the approach we usually see from PIXAR and Disney, which have given us the gorgeously rendered worlds of "Zootopia," "Wreck-it-Ralph," "Coco," and "Inside Out" over the past few years.
So, I was surprised to discover that the core story and characters of "Onward" are absolutely solid. In fact, this is easily the strongest PIXAR film since "Coco," and had the potential to be something even better. Our protagonists are a pair of elf brothers, Ian (Tom Holland), who has just turned sixteen, and his older brother Barley (Chris Pratt), who is in the middle of the "longest gap year ever." Their father died before Ian was born, but left behind a magic staff and a spell that allows the boys to resurrect him for a single day. Of course, the spell goes wrong, sending the brothers on an old fashioned adventure quest together in Barley's beloved van, Guinevere. Other characters include a Manticore (Olivia Spencer), the boys' mother Laurel (Julia Louis Dreyfuss), her centaur boyfriend Officer Bronco (Mel Rodriguez), and assorted other elves, cyclopses, fauns, and pixies.
It took a while for "Onward" to win me over, but then it took a while for the movie to find its groove. There's a lot of place setting and exposition before Ian and Barley are properly on their way, bonding and adventuring together. And once they are, the PIXAR magic finally kicks in - not the business with Ian learning magic spells, but the touching portrayal of family bonds being tested, and the boys both facing their fears and growing up a bit. "Onward" is a great movie for anyone who has siblings, and especially for anyone who has experienced the loss of a family member. It never fails to impress me how well PIXAR's filmmakers handle these difficult themes and emotions. They deftly avoid the obvious answers, opting for more meaningful resolutions and character growth.
So, it frustrates me to no end that all the fantasy trappings and aesthetic choices for "Onward" are so half-baked. Sure, the animators get some good laughs out of dependably strong character animation and I love everything about the Manticore character. Fantasy enthusiasts should have fun picking out the "Lord of the Rings" and "Dungeons & Dragons" references throughout. However, I realized that "Onward" really didn't get much out of having the story set in an urbanized fantasy world. Ian and Barley could have been human beings who learn their Dad was a wizard, and little about the story would have changed. I doubt most viewers will care, and many will find the offbeat fantasy world charming. I, however, found its deficiencies distracting to the point that it took away from the film.
There's still a very good film here with some strong messages and plenty of heart - but good grief, it's an ugly mutt of a movie.
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Thursday, April 23, 2020
About Those "Frozen" and "Maleficent" Sequels
There is no reason for there to be sequels to "Frozen" or "Maleficent," but they now exist because those original movies made oodles of money. And because these sequels are part of Disney franchises, they have to be big, epic spectacles to be viewed on IMAX screens and in 3D. And I, being a parent of small children, found myself unable to escape the gravitational pull of these heavily marketed cinematic, uh, events.
Now, I wasn't entirely opposed to sequels at the outset. I felt that "Frozen" was clumsily executed, and felt hurriedly slapped together. The pieces were great, but the assemblage was pretty rough. So, I was looking forward to a more elegantly put together sequel. Surely after the massive success of the first film, the Disney creatives would be more aware of expectations and more primed to deliver something polished and perfected. And that's more or less the case - "Frozen II" is one of the most beautiful animated films ever made, full of gorgeous effects and environments. Every character has been redesigned and re-outfitted. There are new magical creatures to gape over, an enchanted wood, and a glacial realm full of wonders. However, all this care and effort is put in service of a story that, frankly, isn't all that interesting.
To the credit of Jennifer Lee and the rest of the film's crew, clearly they made great efforts to deliver a story that pushed their characters forward without falling into retreads of the first movie or soap opera developments. Elsa's arc here is all about accepting change and not being afraid of the unknown. Other big themes include righting past wrongs, and being open to new ways of thinking. However, none of the material is really as interesting or relatable as the first "Frozen," and it's difficult to get away from a sense that certain things were included out of obligation - Elsa gets two new anthems to belt, there's another outfit-changing transformation sequence, and Kristoff's subplot is all about trying to propose to an oblivious Anna. However, what's missing are larger personal stakes. Elsa's impetus for going adventuring is a sudden wanderlust and a vague external threat. Anna only tags along to protect Elsa.
I do like that the filmmakers aren't afraid to get darker and gloomier. There's mist and murk in abundance. Olaf, amusingly, goes through an existential crisis, and later Anna battles a more serious emotional low point. There are some intense action sequences, sad moments, and downright spooky encounters. This probably isn't a film for the very youngest children, but I expect that existing "Frozen" fans should like it fine. The songs are memorable, the animation is jawdropping at times, and there are some lovely new magic critters to fuss over. On the other hand, there's also no shortage of filler. Yes, it's nice that Kristoff finally got a full song number in this movie, but his '80s power ballad spoof went on for way too long.
Now on to "Maleficent: Mistress of Evil," which I was hoping would allow the famous Disney villainess to be more properly evil this time out. Remember the freaky castle and all the minions from "Sleeping Beauty"? Alas, the "Maleficent" sequel is even tamer than the first one. Maleficent doesn't do anything remotely villainous, and all the wrongdoing attributed to her is entirely due to misunderstandings and the real villain's treachery. I could almost give the first hour a pass for being a fairy tale version of "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?" but then it turns into a mess of CGI battles and and disaster sequences that are all too common in Disney's revisionist fairy tales.
Not all the elements here are bad. Aurora getting engaged to Phillip (Harris Dickinson) and having to contend with his magic hating mother Queen Ingrith (Michelle Pfeiffer) has some promise. There's a lot of campy flexing from both future mother-in-laws, and Sam Riley's Diaval the Raven is very good comic relief. Maleficent discovering the remnants of her people, the Dark Fae, is interesting for a few scenes, and it introduces characters like Conall (Chiwetal Ejiofor) and Borra (Ed Skrein), Maleficent's new potential love interests. Of course, it quickly becomes apparent that the Fae are just convenient fodder for the big war sequence the film is building up to.
Elle Fanning continues to demonstrate that she's being utterly wasted in this franchise and deserves better. She has a big, emotional breakdown scene that she really put some effort into, and I felt very sorry for her that it wasn't for a better movie. The rest of the cast look like they're enjoying themselves at least, being dressed up in elaborate costumes, prosthetics, and make-up, but they might as well be full CGI characters considering how little they're given to do. I have no idea why anyone thought it was a good idea to spend $185 million on this, especially after the similar trainwreck of "Alice Through the Looking Glass." At least I can rest easy that there won't be a "Maleficent: 3."
"Frozen," on the other hand...
---
Now, I wasn't entirely opposed to sequels at the outset. I felt that "Frozen" was clumsily executed, and felt hurriedly slapped together. The pieces were great, but the assemblage was pretty rough. So, I was looking forward to a more elegantly put together sequel. Surely after the massive success of the first film, the Disney creatives would be more aware of expectations and more primed to deliver something polished and perfected. And that's more or less the case - "Frozen II" is one of the most beautiful animated films ever made, full of gorgeous effects and environments. Every character has been redesigned and re-outfitted. There are new magical creatures to gape over, an enchanted wood, and a glacial realm full of wonders. However, all this care and effort is put in service of a story that, frankly, isn't all that interesting.
To the credit of Jennifer Lee and the rest of the film's crew, clearly they made great efforts to deliver a story that pushed their characters forward without falling into retreads of the first movie or soap opera developments. Elsa's arc here is all about accepting change and not being afraid of the unknown. Other big themes include righting past wrongs, and being open to new ways of thinking. However, none of the material is really as interesting or relatable as the first "Frozen," and it's difficult to get away from a sense that certain things were included out of obligation - Elsa gets two new anthems to belt, there's another outfit-changing transformation sequence, and Kristoff's subplot is all about trying to propose to an oblivious Anna. However, what's missing are larger personal stakes. Elsa's impetus for going adventuring is a sudden wanderlust and a vague external threat. Anna only tags along to protect Elsa.
I do like that the filmmakers aren't afraid to get darker and gloomier. There's mist and murk in abundance. Olaf, amusingly, goes through an existential crisis, and later Anna battles a more serious emotional low point. There are some intense action sequences, sad moments, and downright spooky encounters. This probably isn't a film for the very youngest children, but I expect that existing "Frozen" fans should like it fine. The songs are memorable, the animation is jawdropping at times, and there are some lovely new magic critters to fuss over. On the other hand, there's also no shortage of filler. Yes, it's nice that Kristoff finally got a full song number in this movie, but his '80s power ballad spoof went on for way too long.
Now on to "Maleficent: Mistress of Evil," which I was hoping would allow the famous Disney villainess to be more properly evil this time out. Remember the freaky castle and all the minions from "Sleeping Beauty"? Alas, the "Maleficent" sequel is even tamer than the first one. Maleficent doesn't do anything remotely villainous, and all the wrongdoing attributed to her is entirely due to misunderstandings and the real villain's treachery. I could almost give the first hour a pass for being a fairy tale version of "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?" but then it turns into a mess of CGI battles and and disaster sequences that are all too common in Disney's revisionist fairy tales.
Not all the elements here are bad. Aurora getting engaged to Phillip (Harris Dickinson) and having to contend with his magic hating mother Queen Ingrith (Michelle Pfeiffer) has some promise. There's a lot of campy flexing from both future mother-in-laws, and Sam Riley's Diaval the Raven is very good comic relief. Maleficent discovering the remnants of her people, the Dark Fae, is interesting for a few scenes, and it introduces characters like Conall (Chiwetal Ejiofor) and Borra (Ed Skrein), Maleficent's new potential love interests. Of course, it quickly becomes apparent that the Fae are just convenient fodder for the big war sequence the film is building up to.
Elle Fanning continues to demonstrate that she's being utterly wasted in this franchise and deserves better. She has a big, emotional breakdown scene that she really put some effort into, and I felt very sorry for her that it wasn't for a better movie. The rest of the cast look like they're enjoying themselves at least, being dressed up in elaborate costumes, prosthetics, and make-up, but they might as well be full CGI characters considering how little they're given to do. I have no idea why anyone thought it was a good idea to spend $185 million on this, especially after the similar trainwreck of "Alice Through the Looking Glass." At least I can rest easy that there won't be a "Maleficent: 3."
"Frozen," on the other hand...
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Tuesday, April 21, 2020
Going Back to the Nightly News
Every time we have a national crisis, I find myself checking the news constantly. The Coronavirus pandemic coverage has been very good about providing hard numbers and constant updates - infection data, death rates, and recovery numbers most prominently. Our politicians have also been working hard to keep the public calm and supplied with as much relevant information as they can. I've checked out a few from Governor Gavin Newsom in California, Governor Andrew Cuomo in New York, and done my best to avoid the Trump press briefings, which are unfortunately the ones quoted most heavily in the mainstream press right now.
However, it's very easy to become overwhelmed and drive yourself to anxiety with the constant flood of information. I've tried to limit myself to only checking on the news twice a day - specifically my feed of Google News updates and virus tracker sites. Worldometer has been the most consistently updated one, and with the fewest ads. However, with the isolation of living under shelter-in-place orders, and the mental weariness that's been building with trying to screen out all the alarmists and the crazies that keep trying to hijack the crisis, I've found myself doing something I haven't done in ages - watching television news broadcasts. Every night before bed, I've fallen into the habit of watching the BBC World News for international updates, and the nightly NBC newscasts for domestic ones.
I usually have all the information contained in these programs already from reading the print news. However, reading about a tragedy in print is never going to be as visceral as seeing video reporting and hearing live interviews. I can read about overrun emergency rooms and medical equipment shortages, but actually seeing the images has a much greater impact. First hand accounts and personal details tend to get more emphasis. And as a result, deaths are no longer dismissable as numbers and stats, but more clearly real people with grieving loved ones. There's a danger in getting too morbid about the steadily rising death count, but for now, while there are still parts of the U.S. that aren't taking this as seriously as they should, I think that's important to get across.
And I've found a new appreciation for the slickly packaged American nightly newscasts for their simple messaging and narrative - sensationalist, but also comforting. The events of the day are tragic and daunting, but not insurmountable. I've been sticking with NBC, frankly, because they're the most accessible online. Also, it helps that their format and packaging is nostalgic for me. My parents usually watched their newscasts, and I've been hearing that same trumpet fanfare since I was a kid. So, I've been watching the NBC News organizations cover horrible things happening for decades now. And the U.S. survived all those horrible things happening, so it feels like we'll get through this one too eventually. The NBC newscasts have even taken pains to end their telecasts on an uplifting note - little human interest stories about weddings, reunions, or shows of solidarity.
I feel it's also important to make a distinction from the 24 hour cable news, which I've been doing my best to stay away from. No matter if it's FOX or CNN or MSNBC, cable news is still far more eager to sensationalize, to speculate, and to blow things out of proportion. Because they have to generate more content constantly, they also tend to be repetitive and more prone to misinformation. There's already a push from various parties to try and place blame for the mismanagement of the Coronavirus response, which isn't remotely helpful while we're still in the thick of it.
I've heard anecdotal stories of people falling back on a lot of old comforts while stuck at home - reading, baking, and of course copious consumption of alcohol. I've had more time than usual to consume media, my personal drug of choice. I've found that nostalgic media is particularly potent stuff lately, and that includes listening to a very calm, deep-voiced news presenter tell me what happened today in New York, Chicago, and Washington D.C. for twenty minutes. I tend to watch the programs online now instead of over the airwaves, but it's really not any different.
Take care of yourselves out there.
---
However, it's very easy to become overwhelmed and drive yourself to anxiety with the constant flood of information. I've tried to limit myself to only checking on the news twice a day - specifically my feed of Google News updates and virus tracker sites. Worldometer has been the most consistently updated one, and with the fewest ads. However, with the isolation of living under shelter-in-place orders, and the mental weariness that's been building with trying to screen out all the alarmists and the crazies that keep trying to hijack the crisis, I've found myself doing something I haven't done in ages - watching television news broadcasts. Every night before bed, I've fallen into the habit of watching the BBC World News for international updates, and the nightly NBC newscasts for domestic ones.
I usually have all the information contained in these programs already from reading the print news. However, reading about a tragedy in print is never going to be as visceral as seeing video reporting and hearing live interviews. I can read about overrun emergency rooms and medical equipment shortages, but actually seeing the images has a much greater impact. First hand accounts and personal details tend to get more emphasis. And as a result, deaths are no longer dismissable as numbers and stats, but more clearly real people with grieving loved ones. There's a danger in getting too morbid about the steadily rising death count, but for now, while there are still parts of the U.S. that aren't taking this as seriously as they should, I think that's important to get across.
And I've found a new appreciation for the slickly packaged American nightly newscasts for their simple messaging and narrative - sensationalist, but also comforting. The events of the day are tragic and daunting, but not insurmountable. I've been sticking with NBC, frankly, because they're the most accessible online. Also, it helps that their format and packaging is nostalgic for me. My parents usually watched their newscasts, and I've been hearing that same trumpet fanfare since I was a kid. So, I've been watching the NBC News organizations cover horrible things happening for decades now. And the U.S. survived all those horrible things happening, so it feels like we'll get through this one too eventually. The NBC newscasts have even taken pains to end their telecasts on an uplifting note - little human interest stories about weddings, reunions, or shows of solidarity.
I feel it's also important to make a distinction from the 24 hour cable news, which I've been doing my best to stay away from. No matter if it's FOX or CNN or MSNBC, cable news is still far more eager to sensationalize, to speculate, and to blow things out of proportion. Because they have to generate more content constantly, they also tend to be repetitive and more prone to misinformation. There's already a push from various parties to try and place blame for the mismanagement of the Coronavirus response, which isn't remotely helpful while we're still in the thick of it.
I've heard anecdotal stories of people falling back on a lot of old comforts while stuck at home - reading, baking, and of course copious consumption of alcohol. I've had more time than usual to consume media, my personal drug of choice. I've found that nostalgic media is particularly potent stuff lately, and that includes listening to a very calm, deep-voiced news presenter tell me what happened today in New York, Chicago, and Washington D.C. for twenty minutes. I tend to watch the programs online now instead of over the airwaves, but it's really not any different.
Take care of yourselves out there.
---
Sunday, April 19, 2020
"The Mandalorian," Year One
Spoilers for the first episode.
When I heard that the first season of "The Mandalorian" was going to be eight episodes long, I expected it to be something big and epic and expensive to reflect the reportedly high budget. I'm very glad that I was wrong. Yes, "The Mandalorian" is full of expensive special effects and the characters are bouncing around the galaxy, and rarely on the same planet from episode to episode, but the scale and stakes of the drama are pretty small and personal - at least compared to all the other "Star Wars" media.
The Mandalorian (Pedro Pascal) is a bounty hunter, who never shows his face and whose proper name is barely used. He simply goes by The Mandalorian, or Mando, a member of an order of fearsome armored warriors who have been mostly driven underground. In the first episode he's sent on a mission by a sinister Imperial, the Client (Werner Herzog) to retrieve an asset who turns out to be the Child - now known in the wider culture as Baby Yoda. This sets up a "Lone Wolf and Cub" situation, as the Mandalorian goes on new adventures and jobs every week, with a teeny green magic toddler in tow.
Obviously, all the alien landscapes, CGI creatures, big guest stars, and whizbang action sequences require a lot of money and creative effort to be brought to the small screen. However, when it comes to the nuts and bolts of the storytelling and the characters, "The Mandalorian" is refreshingly simple. It's built on the basic tropes of old westerns, morality is simple and crude, and dialogue is fairly sparse - several characters have oft repeated catchphrases like the Mandalorian's "This is the way." Baby Yoda, performed with a wonderfully expressive puppet, doesn't speak at all. With its larger-than-life characters and and focus on exciting action sequences, it's a perfect show for kids, but charming enough to keep the attention of adults. Hardcore "Star Wars" fans will be happy to spot Ugnaughts and AT-STs, but the show is aimed at a much broader audience, and not interested in dwelling on the minutiae of the existing "Star Wars" mythology.
The show isn't consistently good week to week. There are three self-contained adventures in the middle of the season that are easily the weakest episodes, with very paper-thin characters and scenarios. You could swap them out with any generic '90s action adventure show filler installments without much trouble. However, I find the overall quality of the worldbuilding and the high level of the execution of so many complicated fantasy elements is enough to keep me watching. You can tell the creators, lead by Jon Favreau, approached this like a feature project. Each episode's credits are accompanied by gorgeous production artwork, highlighting the skill and craft put into every visual. The score by Ludwig Göransson doesn't sound like anything else in "Star Wars" canon, but it's somehow exactly what music in a "Star Wars" Western should sound like. And I'm happy to find the universe is grungy and tactile and a little seedy at times, the way I remember the first act of the first "Star Wars" movie being. And Baby Yoda is just irresistible.
As a "Star Wars" spinoff, I'm very satisfied with "The Mandalorian." This is the first piece of media since the Disney acquisition that doesn't feel like it's leaning too heavily on the movies. There are a few Force users, but not a lightsaber in sight. Our Mandalorian has no apparent ties to Boba Fett or Jango Fett, and instead there's a significant amount of time fleshing out the Mandalorian culture and traditions. We know the series takes place in the gap between Episodes VI and VII, but prior events are only barely alluded to. Instead, there's an emphasis on the consequences - scattered Imperials trying to hold on to power, Mando's ally Cara Dune (Gina Carano) moving on after a career as a Rebel shock trooper, and everyone mostly just trying to stay out of everyone else's way as the new status quo sorts itself out.
In short, this is the only "Star Wars" media that has really delivered on the promise of showing us new and different corners of a familiar universe. And I do hope that it continues on the same trajectory moving forward, sticking to the backwaters and keeping it simple.
---
When I heard that the first season of "The Mandalorian" was going to be eight episodes long, I expected it to be something big and epic and expensive to reflect the reportedly high budget. I'm very glad that I was wrong. Yes, "The Mandalorian" is full of expensive special effects and the characters are bouncing around the galaxy, and rarely on the same planet from episode to episode, but the scale and stakes of the drama are pretty small and personal - at least compared to all the other "Star Wars" media.
The Mandalorian (Pedro Pascal) is a bounty hunter, who never shows his face and whose proper name is barely used. He simply goes by The Mandalorian, or Mando, a member of an order of fearsome armored warriors who have been mostly driven underground. In the first episode he's sent on a mission by a sinister Imperial, the Client (Werner Herzog) to retrieve an asset who turns out to be the Child - now known in the wider culture as Baby Yoda. This sets up a "Lone Wolf and Cub" situation, as the Mandalorian goes on new adventures and jobs every week, with a teeny green magic toddler in tow.
Obviously, all the alien landscapes, CGI creatures, big guest stars, and whizbang action sequences require a lot of money and creative effort to be brought to the small screen. However, when it comes to the nuts and bolts of the storytelling and the characters, "The Mandalorian" is refreshingly simple. It's built on the basic tropes of old westerns, morality is simple and crude, and dialogue is fairly sparse - several characters have oft repeated catchphrases like the Mandalorian's "This is the way." Baby Yoda, performed with a wonderfully expressive puppet, doesn't speak at all. With its larger-than-life characters and and focus on exciting action sequences, it's a perfect show for kids, but charming enough to keep the attention of adults. Hardcore "Star Wars" fans will be happy to spot Ugnaughts and AT-STs, but the show is aimed at a much broader audience, and not interested in dwelling on the minutiae of the existing "Star Wars" mythology.
The show isn't consistently good week to week. There are three self-contained adventures in the middle of the season that are easily the weakest episodes, with very paper-thin characters and scenarios. You could swap them out with any generic '90s action adventure show filler installments without much trouble. However, I find the overall quality of the worldbuilding and the high level of the execution of so many complicated fantasy elements is enough to keep me watching. You can tell the creators, lead by Jon Favreau, approached this like a feature project. Each episode's credits are accompanied by gorgeous production artwork, highlighting the skill and craft put into every visual. The score by Ludwig Göransson doesn't sound like anything else in "Star Wars" canon, but it's somehow exactly what music in a "Star Wars" Western should sound like. And I'm happy to find the universe is grungy and tactile and a little seedy at times, the way I remember the first act of the first "Star Wars" movie being. And Baby Yoda is just irresistible.
As a "Star Wars" spinoff, I'm very satisfied with "The Mandalorian." This is the first piece of media since the Disney acquisition that doesn't feel like it's leaning too heavily on the movies. There are a few Force users, but not a lightsaber in sight. Our Mandalorian has no apparent ties to Boba Fett or Jango Fett, and instead there's a significant amount of time fleshing out the Mandalorian culture and traditions. We know the series takes place in the gap between Episodes VI and VII, but prior events are only barely alluded to. Instead, there's an emphasis on the consequences - scattered Imperials trying to hold on to power, Mando's ally Cara Dune (Gina Carano) moving on after a career as a Rebel shock trooper, and everyone mostly just trying to stay out of everyone else's way as the new status quo sorts itself out.
In short, this is the only "Star Wars" media that has really delivered on the promise of showing us new and different corners of a familiar universe. And I do hope that it continues on the same trajectory moving forward, sticking to the backwaters and keeping it simple.
---
Friday, April 17, 2020
"Dracula" Gets the Moffat Treatment
So, I screwed up here. I accidentally watched the third and final episode of the new Stephen Moffat and Mark Gatiss "Dracula" series first. And this majorly, majorly colored my attitudes toward the whole series, in ways I can't discuss without spoiling the entire thing. So, I'll give the quick review up front.
The new "Dracula" for 2020, comprised of three ninety-minute installments similar to "Sherlock," is too clever for its own good, riffing off the original story and its most famous adaptations in increasingly wild and outlandish ways. It has an excellent Dracula in Danish actor Claes Bang, and a fascinating new antagonist for him - a keen, no-nonsense nun named Sister Agatha, played by Dolly Wells. As is common of Stephen Moffat reinventions, the aggressive amount of updating and meta commentary gets to be a bit much, especially in the final story. However, it's also highly entertaining and more properly scary than I anticipated.
Now, let's get to the spoilers. "Dracula" has received very mixed reactions from viewers, and a common complaint is that the last episode ruined everything that came before it. I went and watched that episode first, where Dracula comes to modern day London. I took it at face value, as a somewhat campy, somewhat irreverent modern update of the original "Dracula" story. Dracula gives his take on modern technology. Dracula outwits modern scientists. Dracula discovers social media and the modern dating scene. I found Claes Bang charming, Dolly Wells impressive, and Mark Gatiss as the fly-eating Renfield cheeky. The new version of Lucy (Lydia West), was a little on the frivolous side, but then most versions of Lucy are. The plotting was convoluted and the ending left me scratching my head, but I was overall decently entertained and ready for the next episode.
And then I quickly realized my mistake. It became abundantly clear to me why some viewers were so incensed with the finale. The first two episodes of "Dracula" not only take place in 1897 and largely follow the events of the Bram Stoker text, but they are tonally much darker, and structured completely differently. Modern humor and meta elements are much, much scarcer. There's a huge mystery component tied to the way each story is relayed - the first by Sister Agatha's interrogation of the hapless Jonathan Harker (John Heffernan), and the second by Dracula himself. The ending of the third episode didn't make much sense to me because it was paying off thematic material that had been previously set up in the 1897 episodes. The third episode also felt much more like an afterthought in context, built around the pieces of the Dracula mythos that hadn't been used for the first two. Yet overall, I still liked and appreciated that ending, having not had the chance to be disappointed by the sudden change in direction.
Yes, the 1897 episodes are significantly better. The characters of Dracula and Sister Agatha are richer, and it's more fun to watch them clash with each other. Sister Agatha in particular is a remarkably appealing creation, a dryly self-possesed scholar and investigator who does not hesitate to ask uncomfortable questions about Jonathan Harker's sex life. Claes Bang brings a certain relaxed confidence to Dracula that is a lot of fun, largely eschewing angst and tragedy in favor of unapologetic villainy. And he really has a sense of danger around him, with a screen presence closest to Christopher Lee's, though he more closely resembles Bela Lugosi. The high point of the series comes near the end of the first episode, where Dracula and Sister Agatha have their first big confrontation at the gates of a convent, goading and threatening each other. It's thrilling and bloody and has such a wonderful, razor-sharp sense of humor about it.
I'm honestly a little disappointed that this version of "Dracula" ends so decisively. I could have watched many, many hours of the Count and the Sister playing cat and mouse all over creation. On the other hand, much of the series' charm comes from the way that it plays off the original material - Jonathan Harker's visit to Transylvania, the voyage aboard the Demeter, and the seduction of Lucy Westenra. Going off into wholly original directions would probably spoil things, much in the same way those later years of "Sherlock" got increasingly silly.
So, Moffat's done it again, taking an old literary character out for a modern spin, a messy but overall enjoyable one. I recommend the first episode - though which first episode to start with is something I leave to you.
---
The new "Dracula" for 2020, comprised of three ninety-minute installments similar to "Sherlock," is too clever for its own good, riffing off the original story and its most famous adaptations in increasingly wild and outlandish ways. It has an excellent Dracula in Danish actor Claes Bang, and a fascinating new antagonist for him - a keen, no-nonsense nun named Sister Agatha, played by Dolly Wells. As is common of Stephen Moffat reinventions, the aggressive amount of updating and meta commentary gets to be a bit much, especially in the final story. However, it's also highly entertaining and more properly scary than I anticipated.
Now, let's get to the spoilers. "Dracula" has received very mixed reactions from viewers, and a common complaint is that the last episode ruined everything that came before it. I went and watched that episode first, where Dracula comes to modern day London. I took it at face value, as a somewhat campy, somewhat irreverent modern update of the original "Dracula" story. Dracula gives his take on modern technology. Dracula outwits modern scientists. Dracula discovers social media and the modern dating scene. I found Claes Bang charming, Dolly Wells impressive, and Mark Gatiss as the fly-eating Renfield cheeky. The new version of Lucy (Lydia West), was a little on the frivolous side, but then most versions of Lucy are. The plotting was convoluted and the ending left me scratching my head, but I was overall decently entertained and ready for the next episode.
And then I quickly realized my mistake. It became abundantly clear to me why some viewers were so incensed with the finale. The first two episodes of "Dracula" not only take place in 1897 and largely follow the events of the Bram Stoker text, but they are tonally much darker, and structured completely differently. Modern humor and meta elements are much, much scarcer. There's a huge mystery component tied to the way each story is relayed - the first by Sister Agatha's interrogation of the hapless Jonathan Harker (John Heffernan), and the second by Dracula himself. The ending of the third episode didn't make much sense to me because it was paying off thematic material that had been previously set up in the 1897 episodes. The third episode also felt much more like an afterthought in context, built around the pieces of the Dracula mythos that hadn't been used for the first two. Yet overall, I still liked and appreciated that ending, having not had the chance to be disappointed by the sudden change in direction.
Yes, the 1897 episodes are significantly better. The characters of Dracula and Sister Agatha are richer, and it's more fun to watch them clash with each other. Sister Agatha in particular is a remarkably appealing creation, a dryly self-possesed scholar and investigator who does not hesitate to ask uncomfortable questions about Jonathan Harker's sex life. Claes Bang brings a certain relaxed confidence to Dracula that is a lot of fun, largely eschewing angst and tragedy in favor of unapologetic villainy. And he really has a sense of danger around him, with a screen presence closest to Christopher Lee's, though he more closely resembles Bela Lugosi. The high point of the series comes near the end of the first episode, where Dracula and Sister Agatha have their first big confrontation at the gates of a convent, goading and threatening each other. It's thrilling and bloody and has such a wonderful, razor-sharp sense of humor about it.
I'm honestly a little disappointed that this version of "Dracula" ends so decisively. I could have watched many, many hours of the Count and the Sister playing cat and mouse all over creation. On the other hand, much of the series' charm comes from the way that it plays off the original material - Jonathan Harker's visit to Transylvania, the voyage aboard the Demeter, and the seduction of Lucy Westenra. Going off into wholly original directions would probably spoil things, much in the same way those later years of "Sherlock" got increasingly silly.
So, Moffat's done it again, taking an old literary character out for a modern spin, a messy but overall enjoyable one. I recommend the first episode - though which first episode to start with is something I leave to you.
---
Wednesday, April 15, 2020
"Uncut Gems" and "Monos"
These are two excellent films that, frankly, I found very difficult to watch.
First up is "Uncut Gems" from the Safdie brothers, a pair known for making very intense stories about intense characters who live on the edge. This time their protagonist is Howard Ratner (Adam Sandler), a Jewish jewelry store owner who has an all-consuming gambling addiction. He's already being hounded to pay back a hefty debt when he gets his hands on a rare black opal and parlays that into a deal with basketball player Kevin Garnett (playing himself), and then a series of further bets and gambles. Howard is also on the verge of a divorce with his wife Dinah (Idina Menzel), over Howard's affair with his employee Julia (Julia Fox).
"Uncut Gems" isn't the 2019 film that made me the most uncomfortable (that honor goes to "Give Me Liberty"), but it's pretty close. There are multiple scenes that just consist of people shouting at each other in the midst of escalating chaos. Sequences of unbearable tension go on and on with no end in sight. Howard is absolutely maddening to watch as he keeps torpedoing his life and making bad decisions over and over again. The performance from Adam Sandler is great, the most daring thing I've seen him do in years, but it's also monumentally aggravating and exhausting. The camera puts the viewer right in the middle of his self-destructive spiral, and it's not a pleasant experience. As a character study, it's uncompromising, and occasionally horrific.
I like the way the Safdies keep their work so close to the real world, drawing on the culture of contemporary Jewish New Yorkers, writing in the specific basketball games played in 2012 when the film takes place, and having personalities like Garnett, Wayne Diamond and the Weeknd play themselves. The specificity and the playful venality of the filmmaking gives the film a harshness and a crudeness that we don't see often with actors like Sandler attached. While this is an aesthetic I find oppressive, I'm also very impressed that the Safdies went for it wholeheartedly, from a title sequence that incorporates Howard's colonoscopy footage to the constant digs and hostility between the Jewish and black characters in the film, embodied by the dysfunctional relationship between Howard and a street hustler named Demany (Lakeith Stanfield). And it's always good to know that Adam Sandler is still an excellent actor when he wants to be.
Now on to "Monos," a film about teenage guerilla soldiers in Colombia. Deep in the wilderness, a commando unit dubbed Monos (Spanish for "Monkey") is comprised of Bigfoot (MoisĂ©s Arias), Rambo (SofĂa Buenaventura), Lady (Karen Quintero), Swede (Laura CastrillĂłn), Smurf (Deiby Rueda), Boom Boom (Esneider Castro), Dog (Paul Cubides), and their leader Wolf (Julian Giraldo). In the opening scene, they are visited by a Messenger (Wilson Salazar) who charges them with looking after a borrowed cow and guarding a prisoner, referred to as "Doctora" (Julianne Nicholson). The Monos members drill and train for war, but most of the time they're a group of bored teenagers who have been left to their own devices. They have their power struggles, fall in love and fall out with each other, and inevitably undergo harrowing trials and tragedies.
Directed by Alejandro Landes, the film takes place in remote mountains and jungles, far from civilization. It's almost Edenic at first, the simplicity of the kids' lives and the way they interact with nature and with each other. However, as we learn more about Doctora, and things start going wrong, it becomes more and more tempting to draw parallels to "Lord of the Flies." Though the Monos members are innocent in some respects, they are also thoughtlessly violent and destructive, often with no apparent regard for the consequences of their actions. Few details are provided as to the individual members' backgrounds and ideology. This isn't a movie that has much interest in the grievances of the Colombian guerillas, but is more interested in the mindset of those who are capable of this particular brand of terror.
Unfortunately, I never really connected to these kids. I found it far too easy to default to rooting for Doctora. It was difficult to distinguish the individual Monos members, and their performances are fairly limited - nearly all of the actors are amateurs. Clearly we're meant to sympathize with at least a few of them in the end, but it's difficult when none of them really emerge as full-fledged characters. We never get much deeper than their most basic traits - Lady is vicious, Smurf is small, and Bigfoot is insecure. The film works better for me as a mood piece, exploring the different environments and listening to Mica Levy's unnerving, unorthodox score. I'm glad to see more films coming out of Colombia, and "Monos" is a film that only the Colombians could have made.
---
First up is "Uncut Gems" from the Safdie brothers, a pair known for making very intense stories about intense characters who live on the edge. This time their protagonist is Howard Ratner (Adam Sandler), a Jewish jewelry store owner who has an all-consuming gambling addiction. He's already being hounded to pay back a hefty debt when he gets his hands on a rare black opal and parlays that into a deal with basketball player Kevin Garnett (playing himself), and then a series of further bets and gambles. Howard is also on the verge of a divorce with his wife Dinah (Idina Menzel), over Howard's affair with his employee Julia (Julia Fox).
"Uncut Gems" isn't the 2019 film that made me the most uncomfortable (that honor goes to "Give Me Liberty"), but it's pretty close. There are multiple scenes that just consist of people shouting at each other in the midst of escalating chaos. Sequences of unbearable tension go on and on with no end in sight. Howard is absolutely maddening to watch as he keeps torpedoing his life and making bad decisions over and over again. The performance from Adam Sandler is great, the most daring thing I've seen him do in years, but it's also monumentally aggravating and exhausting. The camera puts the viewer right in the middle of his self-destructive spiral, and it's not a pleasant experience. As a character study, it's uncompromising, and occasionally horrific.
I like the way the Safdies keep their work so close to the real world, drawing on the culture of contemporary Jewish New Yorkers, writing in the specific basketball games played in 2012 when the film takes place, and having personalities like Garnett, Wayne Diamond and the Weeknd play themselves. The specificity and the playful venality of the filmmaking gives the film a harshness and a crudeness that we don't see often with actors like Sandler attached. While this is an aesthetic I find oppressive, I'm also very impressed that the Safdies went for it wholeheartedly, from a title sequence that incorporates Howard's colonoscopy footage to the constant digs and hostility between the Jewish and black characters in the film, embodied by the dysfunctional relationship between Howard and a street hustler named Demany (Lakeith Stanfield). And it's always good to know that Adam Sandler is still an excellent actor when he wants to be.
Now on to "Monos," a film about teenage guerilla soldiers in Colombia. Deep in the wilderness, a commando unit dubbed Monos (Spanish for "Monkey") is comprised of Bigfoot (MoisĂ©s Arias), Rambo (SofĂa Buenaventura), Lady (Karen Quintero), Swede (Laura CastrillĂłn), Smurf (Deiby Rueda), Boom Boom (Esneider Castro), Dog (Paul Cubides), and their leader Wolf (Julian Giraldo). In the opening scene, they are visited by a Messenger (Wilson Salazar) who charges them with looking after a borrowed cow and guarding a prisoner, referred to as "Doctora" (Julianne Nicholson). The Monos members drill and train for war, but most of the time they're a group of bored teenagers who have been left to their own devices. They have their power struggles, fall in love and fall out with each other, and inevitably undergo harrowing trials and tragedies.
Directed by Alejandro Landes, the film takes place in remote mountains and jungles, far from civilization. It's almost Edenic at first, the simplicity of the kids' lives and the way they interact with nature and with each other. However, as we learn more about Doctora, and things start going wrong, it becomes more and more tempting to draw parallels to "Lord of the Flies." Though the Monos members are innocent in some respects, they are also thoughtlessly violent and destructive, often with no apparent regard for the consequences of their actions. Few details are provided as to the individual members' backgrounds and ideology. This isn't a movie that has much interest in the grievances of the Colombian guerillas, but is more interested in the mindset of those who are capable of this particular brand of terror.
Unfortunately, I never really connected to these kids. I found it far too easy to default to rooting for Doctora. It was difficult to distinguish the individual Monos members, and their performances are fairly limited - nearly all of the actors are amateurs. Clearly we're meant to sympathize with at least a few of them in the end, but it's difficult when none of them really emerge as full-fledged characters. We never get much deeper than their most basic traits - Lady is vicious, Smurf is small, and Bigfoot is insecure. The film works better for me as a mood piece, exploring the different environments and listening to Mica Levy's unnerving, unorthodox score. I'm glad to see more films coming out of Colombia, and "Monos" is a film that only the Colombians could have made.
---
Monday, April 13, 2020
"His Dark Materials," Year One
I was a fan of kids' fantasy literature when I was younger, but Philip Pullman's "His Dark Materials" trilogy managed to pass me by completely. The only exposure I've had to it is the ill-fated, heavily compromised feature adaptation of "The Golden Compass," made by New Line back in 2007. I'm very glad that the BBC decided to take another shot at it, this time as a multi-season television adventure series.
Lyra (Dafne Keen) lives in a world where people are born with daemons, manifestations of a part of their spirit, that take the form of companion animals. Lyra's daemon is Pantalaimon (Kit Connor), most frequently seen in the form of an ermine or marten. She was left at Jordan College, an academic institution, by her uncle Lord Asriel (James McAvoy) as a baby, and raised by the masters there. Her best friend is a boy named Roger (Lewin Lloyd), who disappears one day after a string of strange occurrences. This spurs Lyra to leave Jordan College and journey toward the mysterious North in search of him. Other major characters include Mrs. Coulter (Ruth Wilson), an agent of the sinister Magisterium that functions much like the Catholic Church, an aeronaut named Lee Scoresby (Lin Manuel Miranda), Lord Boreal (Ariyon Bakare), who can slip between different worlds, and Iorek Byrnison (Joe Tandberg), an armored polar bear.
Logistically, the new "His Dark Materials" was a challenge. The daemons are mostly CGI, and look fabulous for a television production. There are multiple child actors who have a lot of screen time - so much so that other storylines with the adult actors were reportedly beefed up to avoid the production running afoul of child labor laws. You have fantasy versions of Oxford, London, Scandinavia, and the frozen north. There are major battle sequences with airships, armored polar bears, and dozens of extras. The special effects are so numerous, work started on the second season before the first even aired. In short, the BBC and HBO should be commended for putting a lot of resources toward a very ambitious project.
As for the resulting quality of the show, well, that's another story. The series looks great, the cast is full of strong actors, and interesting fantasy concepts are all realized and presented with all due care and consideration. However, I struggled to stay interested in the story from week to week. Though the material explores dark themes and the ending is famously a shocker, this is still very much a children's series and follows a very simple, episodic structure of moving from place to place, and crisis to crisis. The setting up of the world and relationships is important, but it takes so long for things to really get rolling. It's not until the fourth episode that the show's best characters are introduced, and their roles are fairly limited.
In addition, there's a sense that the story is constantly being padded out. Whenever the action is on Lyra, the show is engaging and it feels like events are progressing. And then we have to go follow Lord Boreal setting up the events of the next season, or drop in on various side characters debating over what to do with Lyra, or what to tell Lyra, and everything grinds to a halt. Frequently these scenes are played by very good actors, but there's only so much that they can do. The big shock ending is telegraphed so far in advance, it loses most of its impact. I've bemoaned film adaptations not having the narrative space to handle their source material, but "The Golden Compass" as an eight-hour series is clearly too much.
There are so many things that I like about this one, though. Dafne Keen as Lyra is great. Ruth Wilson as Mrs. Coulter is scary and wonderful. The Iorek Byrnison we meet here is so much more well-rounded and interesting than the one in the film, because we have the time to really get to know him before all the fighting and running around happens. The production values are strong across the board, with special kudos to a magnificent score. I like some of the adaptation changes - certain reveals happen at different times, and there's more information doled out upfront. And I like that though the series probably owes its existence to the success of "Harry Potter," it's not trying to be "Harry Potter."
I'm looking forward to the second series, because the show has done so much of the work setting it up, that it would be a shame not to be able to see it all pay off. As mixed as I am about the first series, I'm very glad that it was made, and made with faithfulness and commitment.
---
Lyra (Dafne Keen) lives in a world where people are born with daemons, manifestations of a part of their spirit, that take the form of companion animals. Lyra's daemon is Pantalaimon (Kit Connor), most frequently seen in the form of an ermine or marten. She was left at Jordan College, an academic institution, by her uncle Lord Asriel (James McAvoy) as a baby, and raised by the masters there. Her best friend is a boy named Roger (Lewin Lloyd), who disappears one day after a string of strange occurrences. This spurs Lyra to leave Jordan College and journey toward the mysterious North in search of him. Other major characters include Mrs. Coulter (Ruth Wilson), an agent of the sinister Magisterium that functions much like the Catholic Church, an aeronaut named Lee Scoresby (Lin Manuel Miranda), Lord Boreal (Ariyon Bakare), who can slip between different worlds, and Iorek Byrnison (Joe Tandberg), an armored polar bear.
Logistically, the new "His Dark Materials" was a challenge. The daemons are mostly CGI, and look fabulous for a television production. There are multiple child actors who have a lot of screen time - so much so that other storylines with the adult actors were reportedly beefed up to avoid the production running afoul of child labor laws. You have fantasy versions of Oxford, London, Scandinavia, and the frozen north. There are major battle sequences with airships, armored polar bears, and dozens of extras. The special effects are so numerous, work started on the second season before the first even aired. In short, the BBC and HBO should be commended for putting a lot of resources toward a very ambitious project.
As for the resulting quality of the show, well, that's another story. The series looks great, the cast is full of strong actors, and interesting fantasy concepts are all realized and presented with all due care and consideration. However, I struggled to stay interested in the story from week to week. Though the material explores dark themes and the ending is famously a shocker, this is still very much a children's series and follows a very simple, episodic structure of moving from place to place, and crisis to crisis. The setting up of the world and relationships is important, but it takes so long for things to really get rolling. It's not until the fourth episode that the show's best characters are introduced, and their roles are fairly limited.
In addition, there's a sense that the story is constantly being padded out. Whenever the action is on Lyra, the show is engaging and it feels like events are progressing. And then we have to go follow Lord Boreal setting up the events of the next season, or drop in on various side characters debating over what to do with Lyra, or what to tell Lyra, and everything grinds to a halt. Frequently these scenes are played by very good actors, but there's only so much that they can do. The big shock ending is telegraphed so far in advance, it loses most of its impact. I've bemoaned film adaptations not having the narrative space to handle their source material, but "The Golden Compass" as an eight-hour series is clearly too much.
There are so many things that I like about this one, though. Dafne Keen as Lyra is great. Ruth Wilson as Mrs. Coulter is scary and wonderful. The Iorek Byrnison we meet here is so much more well-rounded and interesting than the one in the film, because we have the time to really get to know him before all the fighting and running around happens. The production values are strong across the board, with special kudos to a magnificent score. I like some of the adaptation changes - certain reveals happen at different times, and there's more information doled out upfront. And I like that though the series probably owes its existence to the success of "Harry Potter," it's not trying to be "Harry Potter."
I'm looking forward to the second series, because the show has done so much of the work setting it up, that it would be a shame not to be able to see it all pay off. As mixed as I am about the first series, I'm very glad that it was made, and made with faithfulness and commitment.
---
Saturday, April 11, 2020
"Jojo Rabbit" Has a Lot on His Mind
It's less useful to ask what kind of movie "Jojo Rabbit" is, or what it's about, than to ask who it's made for. Taika Waititi's comedy about Jojo (Roman Griffin Davis), a ten year-old member of the Hitler Youth who idolizes Adolf Hitler, sounds pretty dodgy at the outset. However, as you get to know Jojo, living in Nazi Germany during the waning days of WWII, it becomes clear that he isn't really a Nazi at heart. He's just a scared, lonely kid who has been fed a lot of propaganda, and has latched on to an ideology that promises him glory and respect. In short, Jojo is perfectly sympathetic and redeemable, and the kind of character worth some consideration in the age of Neo-Nazis and the Alt-Right.
We first meet Jojo and his pal Yorki (Archie Yates) at a Hitler Youth training camp being run by the disgraced Captain Klenzendorf (Sam Rockwell) and his underling Freddie Finkel (Alfie Allen). Jojo is supposed to learn to be a Nazi soldier, but only succeeds in hurting himself and earning the humiliating nickname "Jojo Rabbit." His mother Rosie (Scarlett Johansson) doesn't mind his failure, as she doesn't like the Nazis and we soon learn that she's secretly harboring a teenage Jewish girl, Elsa (Thomasin McKenzie), in the attic. When Jojo discovers Elsa, he's mortified, believing all Jews to be monsters. The only one he can confide in is his imaginary friend, a goofy version of Adolf Hitler played by Taika Waititi himself.
At first the movie is almost purely comedic, taking place in a heightened version of Nazi Germany as seen from Jojo's point of view. The opening sequence sets images of Nazi propaganda to sounds of Beatlemania, and Jojo's room is plastered in Nazi imagery as though it were sports memorabilia. Jojo's camp counselors are bumbling losers, but Jojo sincerely believes their nonsense, like Jews having horns and being able to read minds. The humor is light, poking fun at how silly the Nazi ideology is, and Jojo's angst about missing out on the war. The kids get into wacky hijinks and Waititi can never seem to resist a good visual gag. However, as the story goes on and Jojo becomes more enlightened, it gets darker and darker, finally culminating in a terribly poignant ending.
The tonal balance between the silly and serious sides of the movie is impressive. Early on, I was worried the film was treating the Nazis with too much irreverence, even if it was from an innocent child's perspective. Then more serious elements are introduced through Jojo's relationships with his mother and Elsa. And this is the crux of what the film is trying to do. Jojo only learns his viewpoints are flawed because Elsa is willing to talk to him and engage with him. His mother is more secretive, but never stops loving him or trying to protect him. These sections of the film have their moments of humor and absurdity - Elsa is initially very hostile and willing to exploit Jojo's fear of Jews - but they also have the warm affection of real, grounded human connection, commonly found in Waititi's best work.
The ensemble here is amazing. Roman Griffin Davis is a great discovery, playing a wide-eyed, deeply insecure kid navigating a very confusing world. He's able to sell both the wild comedic scenes and the quieter conversations with equal conviction. I was especially impressed with him playing straight man to Waititi's ridiculous Hitler. His reaction shots alone are worth the price of admission. I also adore Archie Yates as Yorki, who is essentially a mini version of Nick Frost, and perfect comic relief. Scarlett Johanssen gets one of her better roles here as Jojo's mother, getting a chance to really be charming and funny for the first time in too long. And then there's Thomasin McKenzie, who is very good at deploying Elsa's annoyed older sister vibes and successfully avoids being too maudlin or precious.
There's a criticism to be made that Jojo's deprogramming happens too easily, that the film is too simplistic in its satire and blunt in its messages. Some will surely be turned off by the aggressively modern humor and language. Most of the actors have British accents, and Hitler is played by a self-described "Polynesian Jew." However, we come back to the issue of who "Jojo Rabbit" is made for. It's not the usual, older audiences for WWII films, but the kids like Jojo who might become enamored of Nazi ideology in the present day. And it's for those of us who interact with them, who might be tempted to write them off or treat them badly. Above all, "Jojo Rabbit" is a film I admire for promoting empathy and hope for the lost and misguided.
And for that priceless German shepherd joke.
---
We first meet Jojo and his pal Yorki (Archie Yates) at a Hitler Youth training camp being run by the disgraced Captain Klenzendorf (Sam Rockwell) and his underling Freddie Finkel (Alfie Allen). Jojo is supposed to learn to be a Nazi soldier, but only succeeds in hurting himself and earning the humiliating nickname "Jojo Rabbit." His mother Rosie (Scarlett Johansson) doesn't mind his failure, as she doesn't like the Nazis and we soon learn that she's secretly harboring a teenage Jewish girl, Elsa (Thomasin McKenzie), in the attic. When Jojo discovers Elsa, he's mortified, believing all Jews to be monsters. The only one he can confide in is his imaginary friend, a goofy version of Adolf Hitler played by Taika Waititi himself.
At first the movie is almost purely comedic, taking place in a heightened version of Nazi Germany as seen from Jojo's point of view. The opening sequence sets images of Nazi propaganda to sounds of Beatlemania, and Jojo's room is plastered in Nazi imagery as though it were sports memorabilia. Jojo's camp counselors are bumbling losers, but Jojo sincerely believes their nonsense, like Jews having horns and being able to read minds. The humor is light, poking fun at how silly the Nazi ideology is, and Jojo's angst about missing out on the war. The kids get into wacky hijinks and Waititi can never seem to resist a good visual gag. However, as the story goes on and Jojo becomes more enlightened, it gets darker and darker, finally culminating in a terribly poignant ending.
The tonal balance between the silly and serious sides of the movie is impressive. Early on, I was worried the film was treating the Nazis with too much irreverence, even if it was from an innocent child's perspective. Then more serious elements are introduced through Jojo's relationships with his mother and Elsa. And this is the crux of what the film is trying to do. Jojo only learns his viewpoints are flawed because Elsa is willing to talk to him and engage with him. His mother is more secretive, but never stops loving him or trying to protect him. These sections of the film have their moments of humor and absurdity - Elsa is initially very hostile and willing to exploit Jojo's fear of Jews - but they also have the warm affection of real, grounded human connection, commonly found in Waititi's best work.
The ensemble here is amazing. Roman Griffin Davis is a great discovery, playing a wide-eyed, deeply insecure kid navigating a very confusing world. He's able to sell both the wild comedic scenes and the quieter conversations with equal conviction. I was especially impressed with him playing straight man to Waititi's ridiculous Hitler. His reaction shots alone are worth the price of admission. I also adore Archie Yates as Yorki, who is essentially a mini version of Nick Frost, and perfect comic relief. Scarlett Johanssen gets one of her better roles here as Jojo's mother, getting a chance to really be charming and funny for the first time in too long. And then there's Thomasin McKenzie, who is very good at deploying Elsa's annoyed older sister vibes and successfully avoids being too maudlin or precious.
There's a criticism to be made that Jojo's deprogramming happens too easily, that the film is too simplistic in its satire and blunt in its messages. Some will surely be turned off by the aggressively modern humor and language. Most of the actors have British accents, and Hitler is played by a self-described "Polynesian Jew." However, we come back to the issue of who "Jojo Rabbit" is made for. It's not the usual, older audiences for WWII films, but the kids like Jojo who might become enamored of Nazi ideology in the present day. And it's for those of us who interact with them, who might be tempted to write them off or treat them badly. Above all, "Jojo Rabbit" is a film I admire for promoting empathy and hope for the lost and misguided.
And for that priceless German shepherd joke.
---
Thursday, April 9, 2020
About That "Lighthouse" Movie
Where to start with Robert Eggers' "The Lighthouse," a movie that is so utterly, uncompromisingly an original auteurist vision, steeped in centuries-old influences, and yet has a sense of humor and yen for the ghastly that is unmistakably modern?
Eggers, who famously went into the Canadian woods and built a period accurate farmstead to shoot "The Witch," has returned with his latest genre wonder. "The Lighthouse" is a meticulously constructed black and white film, shot in the squared 1.19:1 ratio, and takes place on the New England coast in the 19th century. Eggers and his collaborators built a working lighthouse in Nova Scotia, made use of vintage equipment, and fought inclement weather during a challenging shoot to get everything on film exactly the way Eggers wanted it. And frankly, only a single-minded, obstinate perfectionist could have possible made a film like "The Lighthouse." Frankly, it's too obscure, too niche, and too goddamn weird to exist otherwise.
We follow two lighthouse keepers, or "wickies," one old, Tom (Willem Dafoe), and one young, a newcomer named Ephraim Winslow (Robert Pattinson), who are assigned to a remote lighthouse for a term of four weeks. They don't get along, and Winslow bristles at his poor treatment by Tom and the uneven distribution of work. Unfortunately, bad weather keeps them there much longer than four weeks, turning a bad situation into an intolerable one. It's not long before Winslow starts having visions of monsters and believes that there's something that Tom is keeping secret at the top of the lighthouse, where Winslow's been barred from entering. Certain ambiguities raise the possibility that Winslow may be going mad, that he's cursed, or that there are Lovecraftian eldritch horrors at work.
Yes, the dialogue is all period accurate and full of obscure metaphors. And yes, for the first part of the film, the cinematography is so focused on the existential cold and the misery that it feels like Eggers is aping beloved art house director Bela Tarr. However, "The Lighthouse" is really very watchable. As you'd expect from the insane lengths the filmmakers went to, the visuals are incredible, full of murk and mystery and evocative imagery. Initially, "The Lighthouse" could be mistaken for a film from the 1930s, with its beautifully lensed landscapes and the carefully lit closeups of Pattinson and Dafoe. And then the violence starts, violence far more explicit and nasty than you'd ever see in anything from the period. And then the rude and absurd moments of humor, like Tom's recurring flatulence, and a fight over Winslow refusing to admit he likes Tom's cooking. Then there's the sexuality - barely obscured, fleshy, dripping, Cronenbergian perversity of the highest order. And soon you realize, Eggers' influences are stretching a lot further back than Lovecraft and the New England maritime folklore of the late nineteenth century. The character tropes and the cosmic mechanisms at work are the stuff of ancient Greek creation myths and tragedies, if not even more primordial cautionary tales. And it's all terribly entertaining, fascinating stuff.
"The Lighthouse" is one of those movies that it's irresistible to want to pick apart for allegorical meanings. We can't be sure anything happened literally after Winslow arrives at the lighthouse, and he could easily represent any number of things. However, it's the performances of Dafoe and Pattinson that really flesh out the central struggles and conflicts, giving them enough tetchy humanity to be compelling. Pattinson does strong work in a very physical, demanding role, where he constantly looks exhausted and frustrated. Dafoe, however, is positively delightful as the salty old Tom with his incessant bad habits, tall tales, and dire warnings. Eggers gives him a hair-raising monologue full of blistering insults and portents of watery doom, delivered all in one glorious take. Putting aside all the monsters and mythology, just watching the two actors go at each other should be more than enough to keep audiences interested. And then there's the wild, hairpin twists and turns of a plot that just keeps getting more and more nuts even as it gets more and more artsy fartsy.
There are a lot of films and filmmakers to draw comparisons to, but in the end "The Lighthouse" is its own brand of psychological horror and fantasy, made by someone who not only knew what they were doing, but knew what was required to make it happen, and refused to compromise. Everything from the maddening foghorn to the vicious seagulls is perfect. It's gratifying to know that there are still filmmakers like Robert Eggers out there, willing to do what it takes to achieve this. And honestly, it's also more than a little disturbing.
---
Eggers, who famously went into the Canadian woods and built a period accurate farmstead to shoot "The Witch," has returned with his latest genre wonder. "The Lighthouse" is a meticulously constructed black and white film, shot in the squared 1.19:1 ratio, and takes place on the New England coast in the 19th century. Eggers and his collaborators built a working lighthouse in Nova Scotia, made use of vintage equipment, and fought inclement weather during a challenging shoot to get everything on film exactly the way Eggers wanted it. And frankly, only a single-minded, obstinate perfectionist could have possible made a film like "The Lighthouse." Frankly, it's too obscure, too niche, and too goddamn weird to exist otherwise.
We follow two lighthouse keepers, or "wickies," one old, Tom (Willem Dafoe), and one young, a newcomer named Ephraim Winslow (Robert Pattinson), who are assigned to a remote lighthouse for a term of four weeks. They don't get along, and Winslow bristles at his poor treatment by Tom and the uneven distribution of work. Unfortunately, bad weather keeps them there much longer than four weeks, turning a bad situation into an intolerable one. It's not long before Winslow starts having visions of monsters and believes that there's something that Tom is keeping secret at the top of the lighthouse, where Winslow's been barred from entering. Certain ambiguities raise the possibility that Winslow may be going mad, that he's cursed, or that there are Lovecraftian eldritch horrors at work.
Yes, the dialogue is all period accurate and full of obscure metaphors. And yes, for the first part of the film, the cinematography is so focused on the existential cold and the misery that it feels like Eggers is aping beloved art house director Bela Tarr. However, "The Lighthouse" is really very watchable. As you'd expect from the insane lengths the filmmakers went to, the visuals are incredible, full of murk and mystery and evocative imagery. Initially, "The Lighthouse" could be mistaken for a film from the 1930s, with its beautifully lensed landscapes and the carefully lit closeups of Pattinson and Dafoe. And then the violence starts, violence far more explicit and nasty than you'd ever see in anything from the period. And then the rude and absurd moments of humor, like Tom's recurring flatulence, and a fight over Winslow refusing to admit he likes Tom's cooking. Then there's the sexuality - barely obscured, fleshy, dripping, Cronenbergian perversity of the highest order. And soon you realize, Eggers' influences are stretching a lot further back than Lovecraft and the New England maritime folklore of the late nineteenth century. The character tropes and the cosmic mechanisms at work are the stuff of ancient Greek creation myths and tragedies, if not even more primordial cautionary tales. And it's all terribly entertaining, fascinating stuff.
"The Lighthouse" is one of those movies that it's irresistible to want to pick apart for allegorical meanings. We can't be sure anything happened literally after Winslow arrives at the lighthouse, and he could easily represent any number of things. However, it's the performances of Dafoe and Pattinson that really flesh out the central struggles and conflicts, giving them enough tetchy humanity to be compelling. Pattinson does strong work in a very physical, demanding role, where he constantly looks exhausted and frustrated. Dafoe, however, is positively delightful as the salty old Tom with his incessant bad habits, tall tales, and dire warnings. Eggers gives him a hair-raising monologue full of blistering insults and portents of watery doom, delivered all in one glorious take. Putting aside all the monsters and mythology, just watching the two actors go at each other should be more than enough to keep audiences interested. And then there's the wild, hairpin twists and turns of a plot that just keeps getting more and more nuts even as it gets more and more artsy fartsy.
There are a lot of films and filmmakers to draw comparisons to, but in the end "The Lighthouse" is its own brand of psychological horror and fantasy, made by someone who not only knew what they were doing, but knew what was required to make it happen, and refused to compromise. Everything from the maddening foghorn to the vicious seagulls is perfect. It's gratifying to know that there are still filmmakers like Robert Eggers out there, willing to do what it takes to achieve this. And honestly, it's also more than a little disturbing.
---
Tuesday, April 7, 2020
"The Witcher," Year One
Minor spoilers ahead.
Well, it's not "Game of Thrones." Trying to find comparable series to "The Witcher" brings me farther back to the low-budget charms of "Xena: Warrior Princess" and various '80s action shows. Despite playing around with some ongoing storylines, at its heart "The Witcher" is an episodic action-adventure series. The hero rolls into a new town every week, fights a new monster or solves a new mystery, and then moves on. Despite its high budget and some great fight choreography, the quality of the show is wildly inconsistent, and I don't think it has a good notion of what it actually wants to be. Grimdark medieval action for edgy gamer guys? Serious high fantasy with pointed criticism of the genre's treatment of women? Campy B-movie style adventure serial?
Let's start from the top. The "Witcher" of the title is Geralt of Rivia (Henry Cavill), a monster hunting loner who was created with the help of magic, and uses special skills and powers to fight demons and evil spirits and other supernatural beasties. People avoid Witchers, and Geralt is no exception, until a bard named Jaskier (Joey Batey) starts spreading around tales of his might and bravery, helping his reputation. We learn that Geralt's fate is entwined with that of a young princess named Ciri (Freya Allan), who is on the run after the invasion of her kingdom. "The Witcher" also follows the career and fortunes of Yennefer of Vengerberg (Anya Chalotra), a "crooked" hunchback girl who is recruited by a rectoress, Tissaia de Vries (MyAnna Buring), to train to be a mage.
From the beginning, "The Witcher" is trying to do a lot of different things. It's trying to set up a fantasy universe full of showy magic and different groups of imaginary creatures. It has three totally different narratives and main characters to worry about. Yennefer's story is the most successful, a straightforward telling of her ascension from disfigured nobody to powerful mage. She's a strong character, with an interesting history of morally gray choices, and big ambitions. Geralt is a much more stereotypical badass type, essentially a sword-and-sorcery universe Wolverine, but he cuts such a charismatic figure thanks to Henry Cavill's committed performance that it's easier to ignore that the show really doesn't give him much depth or shading. He delivers the big action scenes, says a gruff line or two, and it's enough. Ciri, alas, barely has a personality and even less to do. She spends the whole season stuck in cycles of running away, getting captured, and being reminded of her ominous destiny.
The one big storytelling gimmick that the series has - and warnings for a significant spoiler here - is that it plays around with time. Each character's narrative happens in order, but they're asynchronous with each other and often happening on massively different time scales. It's only when you get to the end of the season that everything matches up. The trouble is that the execution of this relies on a lot of visual cheats, and there are too many instances of unnecessary confusion. For instance, there's the notorious fifth episode, the one that was at the center of the big EW critic controversy. Not only is it tonally completely different from the rest of the series, it presents a version of Yennefer significantly different from the last time we saw her due to a timeskip. It's not that hard to figure out what's going on, but at the same time, it's hard to shake the sense that the show is not playing fair with its audience.
I also wasn't too impressed with the worldbuilding, which is very derivative of other fantasy series. There's no sense of the geography of the different kingdoms, magical concepts are introduced at random without really establishing the rules, and I had a terrible time just telling different locations and groups of characters apart. The abiding approach in design and mythology building seems to be exploring the dark side of common fairy tale tropes. Geralt encounters dragons, werebeasts, dark genies, a displaced population of elves, and there's one episode built around a fairly straight retelling of "Hans My Hedgehog." The series is full of sex and violence, but is never really interested in being all that adult. You can only be so mature when all the female mages sport revealing outfits, and Geralt's fight scenes are designed to be showy and cool above all else.
The campiness isn't necessarily a bad thing, but I do think that it often runs counter to the show's other aims. When it's trying to be "Game of Thrones," it falls flat on its face. When it's going for more small scale adventure stories and character portraits, it's more promising. Ultimately, "The Witcher" feels like it has a far more limited premise and universe, and hasn't done all the legwork yet to really establish its world as somewhere worth exploring. It was fun to visit, but the creators have their work cut out for them if they want me to take their efforts more seriously.
---
Well, it's not "Game of Thrones." Trying to find comparable series to "The Witcher" brings me farther back to the low-budget charms of "Xena: Warrior Princess" and various '80s action shows. Despite playing around with some ongoing storylines, at its heart "The Witcher" is an episodic action-adventure series. The hero rolls into a new town every week, fights a new monster or solves a new mystery, and then moves on. Despite its high budget and some great fight choreography, the quality of the show is wildly inconsistent, and I don't think it has a good notion of what it actually wants to be. Grimdark medieval action for edgy gamer guys? Serious high fantasy with pointed criticism of the genre's treatment of women? Campy B-movie style adventure serial?
Let's start from the top. The "Witcher" of the title is Geralt of Rivia (Henry Cavill), a monster hunting loner who was created with the help of magic, and uses special skills and powers to fight demons and evil spirits and other supernatural beasties. People avoid Witchers, and Geralt is no exception, until a bard named Jaskier (Joey Batey) starts spreading around tales of his might and bravery, helping his reputation. We learn that Geralt's fate is entwined with that of a young princess named Ciri (Freya Allan), who is on the run after the invasion of her kingdom. "The Witcher" also follows the career and fortunes of Yennefer of Vengerberg (Anya Chalotra), a "crooked" hunchback girl who is recruited by a rectoress, Tissaia de Vries (MyAnna Buring), to train to be a mage.
From the beginning, "The Witcher" is trying to do a lot of different things. It's trying to set up a fantasy universe full of showy magic and different groups of imaginary creatures. It has three totally different narratives and main characters to worry about. Yennefer's story is the most successful, a straightforward telling of her ascension from disfigured nobody to powerful mage. She's a strong character, with an interesting history of morally gray choices, and big ambitions. Geralt is a much more stereotypical badass type, essentially a sword-and-sorcery universe Wolverine, but he cuts such a charismatic figure thanks to Henry Cavill's committed performance that it's easier to ignore that the show really doesn't give him much depth or shading. He delivers the big action scenes, says a gruff line or two, and it's enough. Ciri, alas, barely has a personality and even less to do. She spends the whole season stuck in cycles of running away, getting captured, and being reminded of her ominous destiny.
The one big storytelling gimmick that the series has - and warnings for a significant spoiler here - is that it plays around with time. Each character's narrative happens in order, but they're asynchronous with each other and often happening on massively different time scales. It's only when you get to the end of the season that everything matches up. The trouble is that the execution of this relies on a lot of visual cheats, and there are too many instances of unnecessary confusion. For instance, there's the notorious fifth episode, the one that was at the center of the big EW critic controversy. Not only is it tonally completely different from the rest of the series, it presents a version of Yennefer significantly different from the last time we saw her due to a timeskip. It's not that hard to figure out what's going on, but at the same time, it's hard to shake the sense that the show is not playing fair with its audience.
I also wasn't too impressed with the worldbuilding, which is very derivative of other fantasy series. There's no sense of the geography of the different kingdoms, magical concepts are introduced at random without really establishing the rules, and I had a terrible time just telling different locations and groups of characters apart. The abiding approach in design and mythology building seems to be exploring the dark side of common fairy tale tropes. Geralt encounters dragons, werebeasts, dark genies, a displaced population of elves, and there's one episode built around a fairly straight retelling of "Hans My Hedgehog." The series is full of sex and violence, but is never really interested in being all that adult. You can only be so mature when all the female mages sport revealing outfits, and Geralt's fight scenes are designed to be showy and cool above all else.
The campiness isn't necessarily a bad thing, but I do think that it often runs counter to the show's other aims. When it's trying to be "Game of Thrones," it falls flat on its face. When it's going for more small scale adventure stories and character portraits, it's more promising. Ultimately, "The Witcher" feels like it has a far more limited premise and universe, and hasn't done all the legwork yet to really establish its world as somewhere worth exploring. It was fun to visit, but the creators have their work cut out for them if they want me to take their efforts more seriously.
---
Sunday, April 5, 2020
"The Rise of Skywalker" (With Spoilers)
This is going to be more of a free-form reaction post than a review. And there are all the spoilers ahead. You've been warned.
Dammit, I'm a Reylo shipper. I didn't think I was after "The Last Jedi," but I certainly am after "The Rise of Skywalker" went full tragic romance on us. Daisy Ridley and Adam Driver just killed me, especially in those last few scenes where they barely even have dialogue with each other. It's just looks and body language doing all the work. I thought all the Palpatine machinations were pretty silly, and the whole sequence with Rey being tempted to the Dark Side didn't hold a candle to the original Emperor scenes in "Return of the Jedi," but the Rey and Kylo/Ben stuff all worked. Oh, and I totally called Rey being a Palpatine (because that's how dramatic irony works).
Speaking of "Return of the Jedi," I got amazing chills when Rey found the original throne room. It wasn't the visuals that did it, but that snatch of the old score from when Vader removed his helmet. The xylophone, of all things, set it off. A similar thing happened when Luke's X-wing made its appearance complete with Yoda's theme. It really goes to show that after all this time, John Williams' music is still a huge part of the franchise's effectiveness. I've rolled my eyes when other sequels and remakes have used this trick - "Mary Poppins Returns" for instance - but the new "Star Wars" films feel enough of a piece with the older ones that it works.
Of course, there were other callbacks and references everywhere, but I didn't mind it so much this time out. Maybe it's because I honestly expected much worse, considering some of the more hyperbolic reviews and reactions. Maybe it's because I've just gotten used to this level of self-obsession. Maybe it's because they were generally handled better, and there were a few good surprises. I didn't expect to ever see Harrison Ford as Han Solo again, but was grateful for the appearance. There are rumors circulating that the scene was originally meant for Carrie Fisher - I'm still undecided as to whether she should have been written out of the film entirely to avoid the awkwardness of her haphazardly cut together scenes.
Leia's death was a letdown, but really, no one but Rey and Kylo got very satisfying endings. Poe fared decently, becoming leader of the rebellion and getting some lukewarm character development. His best moments were his flirting with Keri Russell's character, Zorii. I liked Finn better here after his disastrous arc in "Last Jedi," but I don't understand the logic of sidelining Rose Tico and giving him a new love interest, Naomi Ackie's Jannah. And again, he clearly had material trimmed because we never find out what he was almost going to tell Rey. That he's Force sensitive? That he loves her? What?! C-3PO was pretty effective as comic relief this time out, though the attempts to wring some pathos out of his memory wipe were pretty poor. And the Chewie death fake-out was awful. Jury's still out on both of Kylo Ren's resurrections.
When I went back and looked at how the narrative actually played out, I was amazed at how shoddily it was pieced together. The opening crawl references a mysterious voice that is never brought up again. Everything about the Macguffin blade makes no sense. Mention is made a ticking clock we never actually see at any point. Lando's last minute arrival with the cavalry is logistically bananas - and really, Lando had nothing to do in this movie except to provide a cool trailer reveal. There's also no reason for Richard E. Grant's new Imperial, Pryde, when Hux and Phasma are in the wings. Big ideas are just shoehorned into the story seemingly at random. Leia's Jedi training! Palpatine's secret kid! The Knights of Ren! No wonder so many viewers called foul. It's not that the ideas were bad either - just never given the time and space to properly cohere.
Individual moments, however, reveal so much care and talent and the best of intentions. The return to Endor and the remains of the second Death Star are magnificent. I love the look of Zorii and the new droid, D-O. I loved the lightspeed skipping sequence, the new planets, and the Rey/Kylo sequences where they seem to physically inhabit the same space. I will never understand why these massive, complicated movies operate according to schedules and deadlines that always seem to require that they be rushed out the door before they can get all the bugs and kinks properly worked out. "Cats" recently released a patch for some shoddy graphics after the first few days of release, for pete's sake.
As with too many blockbusters these days, there is a much, much better movie that you could make out of the parts of "Rise of the Skywalker." The one that exists is simultaneously a complete mess and a thoroughly entertaining spectacle, and has managed to tick off a lot of people. I can't help loving it for what it is, but I'm also deeply disappointed that it isn't what it could have been.
---
Dammit, I'm a Reylo shipper. I didn't think I was after "The Last Jedi," but I certainly am after "The Rise of Skywalker" went full tragic romance on us. Daisy Ridley and Adam Driver just killed me, especially in those last few scenes where they barely even have dialogue with each other. It's just looks and body language doing all the work. I thought all the Palpatine machinations were pretty silly, and the whole sequence with Rey being tempted to the Dark Side didn't hold a candle to the original Emperor scenes in "Return of the Jedi," but the Rey and Kylo/Ben stuff all worked. Oh, and I totally called Rey being a Palpatine (because that's how dramatic irony works).
Speaking of "Return of the Jedi," I got amazing chills when Rey found the original throne room. It wasn't the visuals that did it, but that snatch of the old score from when Vader removed his helmet. The xylophone, of all things, set it off. A similar thing happened when Luke's X-wing made its appearance complete with Yoda's theme. It really goes to show that after all this time, John Williams' music is still a huge part of the franchise's effectiveness. I've rolled my eyes when other sequels and remakes have used this trick - "Mary Poppins Returns" for instance - but the new "Star Wars" films feel enough of a piece with the older ones that it works.
Of course, there were other callbacks and references everywhere, but I didn't mind it so much this time out. Maybe it's because I honestly expected much worse, considering some of the more hyperbolic reviews and reactions. Maybe it's because I've just gotten used to this level of self-obsession. Maybe it's because they were generally handled better, and there were a few good surprises. I didn't expect to ever see Harrison Ford as Han Solo again, but was grateful for the appearance. There are rumors circulating that the scene was originally meant for Carrie Fisher - I'm still undecided as to whether she should have been written out of the film entirely to avoid the awkwardness of her haphazardly cut together scenes.
Leia's death was a letdown, but really, no one but Rey and Kylo got very satisfying endings. Poe fared decently, becoming leader of the rebellion and getting some lukewarm character development. His best moments were his flirting with Keri Russell's character, Zorii. I liked Finn better here after his disastrous arc in "Last Jedi," but I don't understand the logic of sidelining Rose Tico and giving him a new love interest, Naomi Ackie's Jannah. And again, he clearly had material trimmed because we never find out what he was almost going to tell Rey. That he's Force sensitive? That he loves her? What?! C-3PO was pretty effective as comic relief this time out, though the attempts to wring some pathos out of his memory wipe were pretty poor. And the Chewie death fake-out was awful. Jury's still out on both of Kylo Ren's resurrections.
When I went back and looked at how the narrative actually played out, I was amazed at how shoddily it was pieced together. The opening crawl references a mysterious voice that is never brought up again. Everything about the Macguffin blade makes no sense. Mention is made a ticking clock we never actually see at any point. Lando's last minute arrival with the cavalry is logistically bananas - and really, Lando had nothing to do in this movie except to provide a cool trailer reveal. There's also no reason for Richard E. Grant's new Imperial, Pryde, when Hux and Phasma are in the wings. Big ideas are just shoehorned into the story seemingly at random. Leia's Jedi training! Palpatine's secret kid! The Knights of Ren! No wonder so many viewers called foul. It's not that the ideas were bad either - just never given the time and space to properly cohere.
Individual moments, however, reveal so much care and talent and the best of intentions. The return to Endor and the remains of the second Death Star are magnificent. I love the look of Zorii and the new droid, D-O. I loved the lightspeed skipping sequence, the new planets, and the Rey/Kylo sequences where they seem to physically inhabit the same space. I will never understand why these massive, complicated movies operate according to schedules and deadlines that always seem to require that they be rushed out the door before they can get all the bugs and kinks properly worked out. "Cats" recently released a patch for some shoddy graphics after the first few days of release, for pete's sake.
As with too many blockbusters these days, there is a much, much better movie that you could make out of the parts of "Rise of the Skywalker." The one that exists is simultaneously a complete mess and a thoroughly entertaining spectacle, and has managed to tick off a lot of people. I can't help loving it for what it is, but I'm also deeply disappointed that it isn't what it could have been.
---
Friday, April 3, 2020
"The Rise of Skywalker" (Without Spoilers)
Well, here we are at last. As with all of my "Star Wars" posts, this is going to be divided into two installments, one spoiler free for more general thoughts and some meta, and one for the spoilers that will dig into more analysis next time.
I want to preface this post with two thoughts. First, I consider myself a "Star Wars" fan, though it's a notion I've struggled with since I didn't like the prequels and never bothered with "The Clone Wars" or the other spinoffs. Second, I've been quietly accepting that as I trudge toward my forties, that I'm growing increasingly jaded as a moviegoer, especially when it comes to big franchise films. At this point, I can smell the plot contrivances coming from a mile away.
But good grief, I loved "The Rise of Skywalker." I loved it almost as much as I loved "The Last Jedi."
I understand that the latest trilogy of films has been deeply disappointing for some viewers, that it's been a prime target in the culture wars, and made a lot of mistakes. The film critic part of my brain understands that J.J. Abrams and Chris Terrio defaulted to the same tactics used to make "The Force Awakens": lean heavily on the nostalgia, pander to the fans, and just straight up steal chunks of the older movies to refurbish if you run into any trouble. "The Rise of Skywalker" is awash in cameos, call backs, references, and shameless fanservice. It's also full of wildly convoluted plotting, stupidly convenient coincidences, and downright dysfunctional storytelling. It's wildly inconsistent from moment to moment, moves way too fast, and ends up shoving major characters like Finn into the background. As I expected, Abrams backtracked many of Rian Johnson's decisions in "The Last Jedi," and he didn't do it very well. Nor was the handling of Carrie Fisher's departure anything but awkward.
But all that aside, I have to admit that I had a great time watching the movie. Abrams may have put together a messier, sloppier film than either of the two preceding installments, but he managed to deliver where it counted. I was invested in the Rey and Kylo Ren storylines most heavily from the beginning, and wanted to see where their complicated relationship was leading. I wanted to learn more about Poe and Finn and see the new trio really work together after "The Last Jedi," where they were split up. "The Rise of Skywalker" gave me that. It wasn't always in the most elegant or original way, but the thing that J.J. Abrams consistently gets right is that he puts all the necessary emotional beats on the screen where they need to be. So even if the dialogue is awful, or the logic of the Macguffin-chasing is full of holes, the characters' personal journeys are pretty sound, and they feel genuine in the moment.
The actors are so strong across the board, especially Daisy Ridley, Oscar Isaac, and Adam Driver. "Star Wars" has always been melodramatic and this movie pushes that all the way to the limit. There are turns and betrayals and momentous reveals everywhere you look. Some of them absolutely do not work, and some of the choices are just plain bad. However, Abrams and company somehow managed to nail the big ones, the ones that really counted, even if they were nonsense in retrospect. The execution was so on point throughout, especially the smaller, interpersonal scenes. Some of my favorite lightsaber sequences are in this movie - the choreography may not be so impressive, but the way Abrams uses them to further character is fantastic. And I hate to admit it, but most of the little moments of humor and many of the nostalgic call backs worked on me, helping to deflect attention from the script's weaknesses.
The reception to "The Rise of Skywalker" has been mixed to say the least, and it's certainly deserved. However, my first instinct is to defend the film from its detractors. It's such a terribly flawed movie, but I see so much in it worth praising too. The movie made me feel like the kid who was a "Star Wars" fan in the '90s again, something I didn't think was possible anymore. It made me want more "Star Wars" movies, even with all the terrible fandom clashes and studio politicking.
And it cemented for me that I still am very much, perhaps unfortunately, still a "Star Wars" fan.
---
I want to preface this post with two thoughts. First, I consider myself a "Star Wars" fan, though it's a notion I've struggled with since I didn't like the prequels and never bothered with "The Clone Wars" or the other spinoffs. Second, I've been quietly accepting that as I trudge toward my forties, that I'm growing increasingly jaded as a moviegoer, especially when it comes to big franchise films. At this point, I can smell the plot contrivances coming from a mile away.
But good grief, I loved "The Rise of Skywalker." I loved it almost as much as I loved "The Last Jedi."
I understand that the latest trilogy of films has been deeply disappointing for some viewers, that it's been a prime target in the culture wars, and made a lot of mistakes. The film critic part of my brain understands that J.J. Abrams and Chris Terrio defaulted to the same tactics used to make "The Force Awakens": lean heavily on the nostalgia, pander to the fans, and just straight up steal chunks of the older movies to refurbish if you run into any trouble. "The Rise of Skywalker" is awash in cameos, call backs, references, and shameless fanservice. It's also full of wildly convoluted plotting, stupidly convenient coincidences, and downright dysfunctional storytelling. It's wildly inconsistent from moment to moment, moves way too fast, and ends up shoving major characters like Finn into the background. As I expected, Abrams backtracked many of Rian Johnson's decisions in "The Last Jedi," and he didn't do it very well. Nor was the handling of Carrie Fisher's departure anything but awkward.
But all that aside, I have to admit that I had a great time watching the movie. Abrams may have put together a messier, sloppier film than either of the two preceding installments, but he managed to deliver where it counted. I was invested in the Rey and Kylo Ren storylines most heavily from the beginning, and wanted to see where their complicated relationship was leading. I wanted to learn more about Poe and Finn and see the new trio really work together after "The Last Jedi," where they were split up. "The Rise of Skywalker" gave me that. It wasn't always in the most elegant or original way, but the thing that J.J. Abrams consistently gets right is that he puts all the necessary emotional beats on the screen where they need to be. So even if the dialogue is awful, or the logic of the Macguffin-chasing is full of holes, the characters' personal journeys are pretty sound, and they feel genuine in the moment.
The actors are so strong across the board, especially Daisy Ridley, Oscar Isaac, and Adam Driver. "Star Wars" has always been melodramatic and this movie pushes that all the way to the limit. There are turns and betrayals and momentous reveals everywhere you look. Some of them absolutely do not work, and some of the choices are just plain bad. However, Abrams and company somehow managed to nail the big ones, the ones that really counted, even if they were nonsense in retrospect. The execution was so on point throughout, especially the smaller, interpersonal scenes. Some of my favorite lightsaber sequences are in this movie - the choreography may not be so impressive, but the way Abrams uses them to further character is fantastic. And I hate to admit it, but most of the little moments of humor and many of the nostalgic call backs worked on me, helping to deflect attention from the script's weaknesses.
The reception to "The Rise of Skywalker" has been mixed to say the least, and it's certainly deserved. However, my first instinct is to defend the film from its detractors. It's such a terribly flawed movie, but I see so much in it worth praising too. The movie made me feel like the kid who was a "Star Wars" fan in the '90s again, something I didn't think was possible anymore. It made me want more "Star Wars" movies, even with all the terrible fandom clashes and studio politicking.
And it cemented for me that I still am very much, perhaps unfortunately, still a "Star Wars" fan.
---
Wednesday, April 1, 2020
Funko Pop Directors Wishlist
It's April Fool's Day, and I'm in the mood for something frivolous. So I'm dusting off a post that I was going to bin, for being way too self-indulgent.
So, let's talk about Funko Pops. I don't like Funko Pops. I think they're weird looking, and I have no idea how they've become the omnipresent collectible in fandom spaces. However, their pervasiveness fascinates me. There are Pops for cereal box mascots, drag queens, the royal family, and SNL sketch characters. And then one day, I found the film director Pops.
Director Funko Pops that already exist include Alfred Hitchcock, Guillermo Del Toro, Taika Waititi (in his notorious Comic-Con pineapple outfit), and Werner Herzog (as his "Mandalorian" character). There are also Pops for Paul Feig, JJ Abrams, James Wan, Patti Jenkins, Ava DuVernay, Vince Gilligan, Jason Blum, Kevin Smith, and The Duffer Brothers. The best looking one is of JJ Abrams, because JJ Abrams happens to weirdly resemble a Funko Pop in real life.
Obviously, these are mostly popular franchise directors, chosen to be Pops because of their prominence in the current pop culture. They aren't being chosen by anyone weighing any of the actual merits of each director against each other. Buuuuuut, what if someone did? Which directors would I want to include if I were making a real cinephile's series of director Funko Pops?
So, here we go. Below, I've listed a dozen directors I think should be immortalized in bobblehead form, along with some haphazard notes. What are the criteria? There are no criteria aside from my own fandom. Heck, those listed below aren't even my favorite directors. They're my favorite directors as larger-than-life personalities, if that makes any sense. They're the directors who it seems the most fitting that there be Funko Pops for.
Stanley Kubrick - My favorite director. The perfectionist. The mastermind. The dude with the eyebrows. And he's got such a great, intense face. Along with Steven Spielberg, he was synonymous with what my understanding of a director was, when I was a kid. I tend to picture him as the somewhat disheveled, balding, bearded, bespectacled presence from the "Making 'The Shining'" doc. Maybe add a couple of the famous Kubrick boxes, and we're good.
Agnes Varda - I mean, she's practically Funko Pop shaped already, isn't she? The tiny Grandmother of the French New Wave, with her two toned pageboy and modernist style, is without question the greatest female film director who ever lived. And there's such a wealth of looks and outfits to choose from. She showed up to the Oscars a few years ago in silk Gucci pajamas, and dressed up in a potato costume to promote her 2003 art exhibition, Potatutopia.
David Lynch - I admit that 90% of the reason that Lynch is on the list is his hair. I almost put Jim Jarmusch in for the same reason. He's just got such a memorable look and demeanor, and he's the only proper American surrealist that we've got left in the mainstream. We can totally cheat and make the Pop of his "Twin Peaks" character, FBI agent Gordon Cole (and even better, if we can also get Agent Cooper, the Log Lady, and the Man From Another Place).
John Ford - Quite a few directors over the years sported eye patches: Fritz Lang, Raoul Walsh, and Nicholas Ray among others. Nobody wore one like John Ford, however, especially toward the end of his life. Maybe add the pipe and hat. Maybe just go for the full, decrepit, pajama-clad look from that famous photograph with Dennis Hopper and John Huston. Speaking of Huston, I'd like a Noah Cross Pop please. Or one of Professor Hora and his tortoise from "Momo."
Quentin Tarantino - Clearly Tarantino is notable enough in the film landscape that he should be on this list, but I wonder if there would be some trouble translating Tarantino's long face and pronounced jaw into Pop form. The lack of a mouth is really an issue here. I guess you could make the Pop of Mr. Brown from "Reservoir Dogs" or Jimmie Dimmick in "Pulp Fiction," but Tarantino is such a huge personality apart from his screen persona, it doesn't feel appropriate.
Wes Anderson - With his impeccably styled, immaculately detailed dollhouse sets and preppy costumes, there's no currently working director as visually distinct as Wes Anderson. He's also beloved by the fashion community, being the originator of many a hipster trend. His most iconic outfit is obviously the brown corduroy suit, also memorably worn by the Fantastic Mr. Fox. There also has to be mustard yellow and baby pink in the ensemble somewhere. And plaid.
Martin Scorsese - Leaving the Carl Frederickson jokes aside, Scorsese's another one who I can already see as a Funko Pop if I squint. Though he made his name in the '70s I find it impossible to picture him as anything other than a grandfatherly, silver-haired man in a suit, passionately championing his world cinema projects. He's also got a fantastic smile - which, alas, would be wasted on a Pop because they don't have mouths. The eyebrows, however, would translate fine.
Steven Spielberg - Yeah, this one is a no-brainer. Spielberg has already been caricatured and animated so many times over the years, his image is pretty well cemented in popular culture. Beard, glasses, baseball cap - just reference his appearance as "his Eminence" in the "Hooked on a Ceiling" short from "Animaniacs." Considering the modus operandi of the Funko folks, I'm surprised that this and George Lucas weren't the first director Pops that they came out with.
Akira Kurosawa - I was very tempted to put Hayao Miyazaki here, but when it comes to Japanese cinema, it has to be Akira Kurosawa. Fortunately he cuts a pretty memorable figure with his dark sunglasses, cap and coat. Chris Marker's "A.K." documentary, covering the production of "Ran," has some of the most memorable images of him in his later years. On the other hand, the old photos of a younger Kurosawa in a bucket hat never fail to make me smile.
Spike Lee - The glasses, the lids, the kicks - I mean, there should probably be a Mookie Pop, but it just wouldn't be the same. Yes, Spike Lee is on the list because he's (regrettably) still the only African-American filmmaker that most people can name. However, he's never failed to live up to the title or present anything but a persistently fascinating, uncompromising image. I leave it to Funko's legal counsel to determine how much NY Knicks gear he should be sporting.
Tim Burton - I mean, how could you not have a Tim Burton Funko Pop? He used to be the king of movies that generated Hot Topic tchotchkes, and put thinly disguised versions of himself in most of his films. Also, the persona is iconic - artsy '90s Goth weirdo with gravity-defying hair. And don't doubt that he was very savvy about exploiting that persona. Add some black-and-white spiral patterns and maybe a Skellington or Frankenweenie plushie, and we should be all good to go.
Orson Welles - There aren't too many early directors on this list, because frankly I'm not familiar with many of them. However, Welles was a lot like Hitchock, someone whose persona just kept growing and growing over time, and he stayed in the public consciousness for decades. The easiest approach would be to make a Pop of Charles Foster Kane from "Citizen Kane" or Harry Lime from "The Third Man." If you're feeling obscure, maybe go for the "Frozen Peas" era Welles.
---
So, let's talk about Funko Pops. I don't like Funko Pops. I think they're weird looking, and I have no idea how they've become the omnipresent collectible in fandom spaces. However, their pervasiveness fascinates me. There are Pops for cereal box mascots, drag queens, the royal family, and SNL sketch characters. And then one day, I found the film director Pops.
Director Funko Pops that already exist include Alfred Hitchcock, Guillermo Del Toro, Taika Waititi (in his notorious Comic-Con pineapple outfit), and Werner Herzog (as his "Mandalorian" character). There are also Pops for Paul Feig, JJ Abrams, James Wan, Patti Jenkins, Ava DuVernay, Vince Gilligan, Jason Blum, Kevin Smith, and The Duffer Brothers. The best looking one is of JJ Abrams, because JJ Abrams happens to weirdly resemble a Funko Pop in real life.
Obviously, these are mostly popular franchise directors, chosen to be Pops because of their prominence in the current pop culture. They aren't being chosen by anyone weighing any of the actual merits of each director against each other. Buuuuuut, what if someone did? Which directors would I want to include if I were making a real cinephile's series of director Funko Pops?
So, here we go. Below, I've listed a dozen directors I think should be immortalized in bobblehead form, along with some haphazard notes. What are the criteria? There are no criteria aside from my own fandom. Heck, those listed below aren't even my favorite directors. They're my favorite directors as larger-than-life personalities, if that makes any sense. They're the directors who it seems the most fitting that there be Funko Pops for.
Stanley Kubrick - My favorite director. The perfectionist. The mastermind. The dude with the eyebrows. And he's got such a great, intense face. Along with Steven Spielberg, he was synonymous with what my understanding of a director was, when I was a kid. I tend to picture him as the somewhat disheveled, balding, bearded, bespectacled presence from the "Making 'The Shining'" doc. Maybe add a couple of the famous Kubrick boxes, and we're good.
Agnes Varda - I mean, she's practically Funko Pop shaped already, isn't she? The tiny Grandmother of the French New Wave, with her two toned pageboy and modernist style, is without question the greatest female film director who ever lived. And there's such a wealth of looks and outfits to choose from. She showed up to the Oscars a few years ago in silk Gucci pajamas, and dressed up in a potato costume to promote her 2003 art exhibition, Potatutopia.
David Lynch - I admit that 90% of the reason that Lynch is on the list is his hair. I almost put Jim Jarmusch in for the same reason. He's just got such a memorable look and demeanor, and he's the only proper American surrealist that we've got left in the mainstream. We can totally cheat and make the Pop of his "Twin Peaks" character, FBI agent Gordon Cole (and even better, if we can also get Agent Cooper, the Log Lady, and the Man From Another Place).
John Ford - Quite a few directors over the years sported eye patches: Fritz Lang, Raoul Walsh, and Nicholas Ray among others. Nobody wore one like John Ford, however, especially toward the end of his life. Maybe add the pipe and hat. Maybe just go for the full, decrepit, pajama-clad look from that famous photograph with Dennis Hopper and John Huston. Speaking of Huston, I'd like a Noah Cross Pop please. Or one of Professor Hora and his tortoise from "Momo."
Quentin Tarantino - Clearly Tarantino is notable enough in the film landscape that he should be on this list, but I wonder if there would be some trouble translating Tarantino's long face and pronounced jaw into Pop form. The lack of a mouth is really an issue here. I guess you could make the Pop of Mr. Brown from "Reservoir Dogs" or Jimmie Dimmick in "Pulp Fiction," but Tarantino is such a huge personality apart from his screen persona, it doesn't feel appropriate.
Wes Anderson - With his impeccably styled, immaculately detailed dollhouse sets and preppy costumes, there's no currently working director as visually distinct as Wes Anderson. He's also beloved by the fashion community, being the originator of many a hipster trend. His most iconic outfit is obviously the brown corduroy suit, also memorably worn by the Fantastic Mr. Fox. There also has to be mustard yellow and baby pink in the ensemble somewhere. And plaid.
Martin Scorsese - Leaving the Carl Frederickson jokes aside, Scorsese's another one who I can already see as a Funko Pop if I squint. Though he made his name in the '70s I find it impossible to picture him as anything other than a grandfatherly, silver-haired man in a suit, passionately championing his world cinema projects. He's also got a fantastic smile - which, alas, would be wasted on a Pop because they don't have mouths. The eyebrows, however, would translate fine.
Steven Spielberg - Yeah, this one is a no-brainer. Spielberg has already been caricatured and animated so many times over the years, his image is pretty well cemented in popular culture. Beard, glasses, baseball cap - just reference his appearance as "his Eminence" in the "Hooked on a Ceiling" short from "Animaniacs." Considering the modus operandi of the Funko folks, I'm surprised that this and George Lucas weren't the first director Pops that they came out with.
Akira Kurosawa - I was very tempted to put Hayao Miyazaki here, but when it comes to Japanese cinema, it has to be Akira Kurosawa. Fortunately he cuts a pretty memorable figure with his dark sunglasses, cap and coat. Chris Marker's "A.K." documentary, covering the production of "Ran," has some of the most memorable images of him in his later years. On the other hand, the old photos of a younger Kurosawa in a bucket hat never fail to make me smile.
Spike Lee - The glasses, the lids, the kicks - I mean, there should probably be a Mookie Pop, but it just wouldn't be the same. Yes, Spike Lee is on the list because he's (regrettably) still the only African-American filmmaker that most people can name. However, he's never failed to live up to the title or present anything but a persistently fascinating, uncompromising image. I leave it to Funko's legal counsel to determine how much NY Knicks gear he should be sporting.
Tim Burton - I mean, how could you not have a Tim Burton Funko Pop? He used to be the king of movies that generated Hot Topic tchotchkes, and put thinly disguised versions of himself in most of his films. Also, the persona is iconic - artsy '90s Goth weirdo with gravity-defying hair. And don't doubt that he was very savvy about exploiting that persona. Add some black-and-white spiral patterns and maybe a Skellington or Frankenweenie plushie, and we should be all good to go.
Orson Welles - There aren't too many early directors on this list, because frankly I'm not familiar with many of them. However, Welles was a lot like Hitchock, someone whose persona just kept growing and growing over time, and he stayed in the public consciousness for decades. The easiest approach would be to make a Pop of Charles Foster Kane from "Citizen Kane" or Harry Lime from "The Third Man." If you're feeling obscure, maybe go for the "Frozen Peas" era Welles.
---
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