I know it's only been a month since my last follow-up post, where I gave updates on various entertainment news items I'd previously written about, but there's been a lot going on that deserves some timely commentary.
DirecTV's New Bet on Video On Demand - I swear they never learn. The newest chapter in the early video-on-demand (VOD) wars involves Universal offering the new Brett Ratner comedy "Tower Heist" on Comcast's VOD for $60, three weeks after it premieres theatrically. Cinemark Theaters has threatened a boycott, but everyone else seems to be rolling their eyes. Who on earth would want to pay $60 for a VOD movie? If nobody wanted to pay $30 for a film sixty days after its release in the DirecTV experiment, what makes Universal think anyone wants to pay $60 after twenty-one days? To be fair, the star-studded "Tower Heist," which features Ben Stiller and Eddie Murphy, is on track to be a bigger movie than anything DirecTV was offering, but this venture seems designed to fail. But hey - maybe that's the point. If "Tower Heist" on early VOD proves to be a major failure, maybe it will put a final nail in the coffin of this nutty trend.
Why Does Arrietty Have Two English Dubs? - As some predicted, Disney has given up its rights to theatrically distribute all but the most recent Ghibli films to GKIDS. Disney will retain the DVD and other home entertainment rights, which lends credence to the idea that they might be moving away from future theatrical distribution of the Ghibli films. Also Stateside anime fans are still waiting for "Arrietty" to hit theaters in February. The old joke about Disney dragging their heels in releasing Ghibli films is getting awfully relevant again.
The Playboy Club and H8er were the first new shows of the fall season to be cancelled. Good riddance.
All "Simpsons," All the Time - In an interesting twist, the future of "The Simpsons" was recently in jeopardy because contract negotiations with the cast got contentious again. The show has gotten less profitable over time with declining ratings, forcing FOX to cut costs. In fact, according to the LA Times, ending the show might become the more lucrative option for FOX, because that would trigger the ability for them to renegotiate syndication deals and sell rights to the reruns to new platforms. But for now, "The Simpsons" has been renewed for two more years. And for those of you who are actually still watching the show, this year's "Treehouse of Horror XXII" is scheduled to air on October 30th.
The "Human Centipede II" Ban - The British censors have given "The Human Centipede 2 (Full Sequence)" a rating and the go-ahead for public exhibition after the filmmakers trimmed a few minutes of the most graphic material. This is an about-face from their earlier declaration that the film on the whole was so egregiously offensive, that no cuts could be made to render it watchable. You could argue the merits of who won and who lost in this clash, but I'm just glad that the BBFC realized that banning a film based on thematic issues was setting bad precedent. However, that won't save "Centipede" from a flood of bad reviews, many of which charge the film with a far worse crime than being offensive - being boring.
Delicious is Going Down - The beloved social book marking site Delicious was supposed to have been rescued from shutdown by Avos, which bought the site back in April. YouTube co-founders Chad Hurley and Steve Chen were supposed to relaunch a new and improved version of the site. Well, the relaunch happened at the end of September, rendering the site unusable. Functions have disappeared, bugs are everywhere, and the user base is in revolt. I hope the guys behind the scenes figure out how to fix things quick.
And Your Host, Betty White - Finally, I commented in the linked article last year that I thought Andy Rooney was looking worn and sounding increasingly out of touch. So I, for one, welcomed his recent departure from the "60 Minutes" roster. It was great to have him as part of the television landscape for so many decades, but I felt Rooney hit his expiration date a few years ago and congratulate him on his retirement. There's been some discussion of who "60 Minutes" might bring on to replace him - apparently Lewis Black turned the job down - but I don't know how I'd feel about someone else taking over the closing segment. It's just too soon.
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Saturday, October 8, 2011
Friday, October 7, 2011
Bah to the Bildungsroman
"Mon Oncle Antoine" left me cold. "The 400 Blows" failed to impress. Louis Malle's "Murmur of the Heart" was totally unmemorable. And I don't have any idea what I was supposed to get out of "Leolo." The common thread to all these movies? They're about teenage boys growing up and dealing with prickly things like sexual maturation, disillusionment, and loss of innocence. And lately, I've found them increasingly boring, tedious, and self-involved. These movies play out like self-indulgent memoirs, light on plot and heavy on incidence. There are some I've enjoyed, like Terrence Malick's "Tree of Life," Rob Reiner's "Stand By Me," and the glorious "Rushmore," but lately I feel as though I've had a serious falling out with the coming-of-age films, the cinema bildungsromans.
What about coming-of-age films about girls, you ask? They've been rarer for the simple reason that female directors have been less common, and young girls' sexuality has always been a considerably more taboo subject in most cultures. I'm more forgiving of them for that, and because I admit that it is easier for me to relate to protagonists of my own gender when dealing with this kind of subject matter. Some I've liked include Catherine Breillat's "Fat Girl" and Jane Campion's "Angel at My Table." Then again, there have been titles like Maurice Pialat's "A Nous Amours" and "Sixteen Candles" that I found I couldn't connect with at all.
Bias and personal experience probably play in to this considerably. I'm a grown woman whose tastes have changed drastically over the years. When I was younger, I thought the films of John Hughes were deep, and youthful angst was a potent emotional wellspring. And then I grew up and worked through the issues that everybody does in growing up, and suddenly the problems of your average fifteen-year-old got a lot less pertinent and interesting. I found this especially true of media dealing with adolescent sexual awakening, because I was one of those academically focused kids who barely dated in high school and didn't have anything resembling a real romantic relationship until I got to college. I never could relate to those people who equated growing up with becoming sexually active.
But even when sex isn't involved, the generational divide looms large. When did high schoolers get so young? I watched Gus Van Sant's "Elephant" the other day, gaping at the baby-faced actors, though the film wasn't made that long after I left high school myself. The older I get, the younger the kids look, and conversely people in their twenties and thirties don't seem all that mature anymore. I guess this is one of the reasons why so many movies and television shows like using twenty-somethings to play high school students - so the old fogey thirty-somethings in the audience can better imagine themselves in teenage shoes again, and perhaps reassure themselves that they haven't gotten that old.
But then again, all the films I listed were made for adults, and are told with a lot of nostalgia from a very adult point of view. I'm not talking about a disconnect with media actually aimed at teenagers, like "Twilight" or "iCarly," which would be totally understandable. It's my problems with the subject matter of young adulthood itself that worry me. I might not be fifteen anymore, but why should that matter as far as appreciating a film about a fifteen-year-old protagonist? I don't have any trouble with films starring older actors, small children, or those recently dubbed "Men of a Certain Age." Clearly there's more going on here than me getting more temporally remote from my high school days.
The culprit might just be fatigue regarding this kind of story. Sometimes when you watch too many bad westerns or murder mysteries, they can all start to look the same and their common problems become more glaring. Maybe I've just been watching too many mediocre films telling the same story of youthful growing pains. Coming-of-age stories are common and plentiful. Indie cinema often seems like an endless stream of them, from "The Wackness" to "Igby Goes Down" to "The Dangerous Lives of Altar Boys." A few celebrated titles in the genre have definitely been oversold. "Mon Oncle Antoine" is the best Canadian film of all time? Sorry, but no. Not even close. My growing disdain is probably just a sign that I need to take a break from the cinematic travails of frustrated teenagers for a while.
Maybe I'm seriously overthinking this and should evaluate these movies individually on their own terms. Maybe I just need to seek out a few more good ones to help counterbalance the bad. On that note, what did I do with my copy of "Heathers"?
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What about coming-of-age films about girls, you ask? They've been rarer for the simple reason that female directors have been less common, and young girls' sexuality has always been a considerably more taboo subject in most cultures. I'm more forgiving of them for that, and because I admit that it is easier for me to relate to protagonists of my own gender when dealing with this kind of subject matter. Some I've liked include Catherine Breillat's "Fat Girl" and Jane Campion's "Angel at My Table." Then again, there have been titles like Maurice Pialat's "A Nous Amours" and "Sixteen Candles" that I found I couldn't connect with at all.
Bias and personal experience probably play in to this considerably. I'm a grown woman whose tastes have changed drastically over the years. When I was younger, I thought the films of John Hughes were deep, and youthful angst was a potent emotional wellspring. And then I grew up and worked through the issues that everybody does in growing up, and suddenly the problems of your average fifteen-year-old got a lot less pertinent and interesting. I found this especially true of media dealing with adolescent sexual awakening, because I was one of those academically focused kids who barely dated in high school and didn't have anything resembling a real romantic relationship until I got to college. I never could relate to those people who equated growing up with becoming sexually active.
But even when sex isn't involved, the generational divide looms large. When did high schoolers get so young? I watched Gus Van Sant's "Elephant" the other day, gaping at the baby-faced actors, though the film wasn't made that long after I left high school myself. The older I get, the younger the kids look, and conversely people in their twenties and thirties don't seem all that mature anymore. I guess this is one of the reasons why so many movies and television shows like using twenty-somethings to play high school students - so the old fogey thirty-somethings in the audience can better imagine themselves in teenage shoes again, and perhaps reassure themselves that they haven't gotten that old.
But then again, all the films I listed were made for adults, and are told with a lot of nostalgia from a very adult point of view. I'm not talking about a disconnect with media actually aimed at teenagers, like "Twilight" or "iCarly," which would be totally understandable. It's my problems with the subject matter of young adulthood itself that worry me. I might not be fifteen anymore, but why should that matter as far as appreciating a film about a fifteen-year-old protagonist? I don't have any trouble with films starring older actors, small children, or those recently dubbed "Men of a Certain Age." Clearly there's more going on here than me getting more temporally remote from my high school days.
The culprit might just be fatigue regarding this kind of story. Sometimes when you watch too many bad westerns or murder mysteries, they can all start to look the same and their common problems become more glaring. Maybe I've just been watching too many mediocre films telling the same story of youthful growing pains. Coming-of-age stories are common and plentiful. Indie cinema often seems like an endless stream of them, from "The Wackness" to "Igby Goes Down" to "The Dangerous Lives of Altar Boys." A few celebrated titles in the genre have definitely been oversold. "Mon Oncle Antoine" is the best Canadian film of all time? Sorry, but no. Not even close. My growing disdain is probably just a sign that I need to take a break from the cinematic travails of frustrated teenagers for a while.
Maybe I'm seriously overthinking this and should evaluate these movies individually on their own terms. Maybe I just need to seek out a few more good ones to help counterbalance the bad. On that note, what did I do with my copy of "Heathers"?
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Thursday, October 6, 2011
And What Didn't Make My 2010 Top Ten List
I enjoy reading Top Ten Lists, but I give special kudos to the pieces by reviewers who take that extra step and talk about why certain titles placed where they did and why some prominent contenders fell by the wayside. In this post, like last year, I'm going to give some brief thoughts on some of the award season favorites, and how they measured up, or didn't. Plus, I'm sticking in a few more recommendations for odd or overlooked films that didn't fit anywhere else.
I thought "The Social Network" and "The King's Speech" were really about on par, but I knew "The King's Speech" was going home with the Oscar for reasons that had nothing to do with how good the film was. However, when they both ended up vying for the final spot on my list, and after going back and forth about my final choice for months, I had to seriously hash out which I thought was better and why. As much as I enjoyed Colin Firth's and Geoffrey Rush's performances as King George and Lionel Logue, in the end they weren't enough to match the brainy joys of Aaron Sorkin's audacious script for "The Social Network," which was easily the best of the year. That, plus "The Social Network's" consistent quality in every other category you could name, put it ahead in the end.
The rest of this year's Oscar nominees were better than last year, but still a mixed bag. I didn't like "The Fighter," and felt that David O'Russell really lucked out with the performances of Christian Bale and Melissa Leo. While "Toy Story 3" was a lot of fun and exceeded my expectations, I didn't think it was awards-worthy. It got too maudlin and self-important for that, and "Toy Story 2" remains my favorite of the trilogy. Probably the most disappointing nominee was "True Grit," which I didn't find nearly as charming or iconic as the original with John Wayne. I wonder if I would have felt differently if I'd watched the Coen brothers' version first. Similarly, "The Kids are All Right" had a few moments that were interesting, but just played out like a typical indie comedy about a dysfunctional family. The subject matter may have pushed buttons for some, but once you got past the idea that there were two moms and one was cheating, it was very familiar territory.
Harder to dismiss was "Black Swan," which was a fantastic, intense story of ballet and madness from Darren Aronofsky. And yet, I thought "Black Swan" fell short of "Requiem for a Dream" and "The Fountain," two aggressively ambitious films from the same director. I got the sense that Aronofsky wasn't at the top if his game with "Black Swan," and though it may not be fair, that counted against him. "Winter's Bone" was also a wonderful find, and I'm glad it got so much recognition, but there were a few moments that rang false - too many to overlook. Among oft mentioned also-rans, "Fair Game" was too narrow in scope to say anything particularly interesting, "Somewhere" didn't feel properly developed, and "The Ghost Writer" did nothing for me. "Shutter Island" was a lot better than I think most people realized, but again not quite good enough to be awards worthy. I'd have given "The Fighter's" spot to "Rabbit Hole," which was far from perfect, but had several strong, overlooked performances.
Among the foreign notables, "Animal Kingdom" was on the list for a while, but with so many more daring films this year, it got edged out. Same with "Carlos," which features an excellent performance by Edgar Ramirez, and "I Am Love" with Tilda Swinton. "In a Better World" won the Oscar, but got too contrived for me. I was anticipating the British terrorism satire "Four Lions," but the characters were portrayed as much too incompetent to impart any real thrills, and the whole thing just came off as very, very silly. Alejandro González Iñárritu's "Biutiful" had the opposite problem, which was wallowing in its own misery to a deplorable degree. The French film "Of Gods and Men" went over my head, while I still have some very conflicted feelings about "Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives." One nice surprise was "The Milk of Sorrow," a Peruvian film that nabbed an Oscar nomination but not much critical attention.
Documentaries had a very good year, but the war chronicles, like "Restrepo" and "The Tillman Story," and Wall Street exposes, like "Inside Job" and "Client 9," didn't interest me as much as the ones tackling more obscure subjects, like "Marwencol," "A Film Unfinished," "Waking Sleeping Beauty," and perhaps "Catfish," if it turns out that it really was a documentary. I also thought the animated films of 2010 had some real gems, like "How to Train Your Dragon," "Tangled," "My Dog Tulip," "The Borrower Arrietty," and parts of "Despicable Me."
Finally, a few personal favorites that I briefly considered were Vincezo Natali's "Splice," which audiences abhorred but I got a lot of good squirms out of, "Scott Pilgrim vs. the World," for sheer chutzpah, "The American," for doing a lot with a little, and "Easy A," for introducing us to the joys of Emma Stone. "Never Let Me Go" and "White Material" were on the list almost until the end, and were among the hardest to cut. I still like them both an awful lot.
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I thought "The Social Network" and "The King's Speech" were really about on par, but I knew "The King's Speech" was going home with the Oscar for reasons that had nothing to do with how good the film was. However, when they both ended up vying for the final spot on my list, and after going back and forth about my final choice for months, I had to seriously hash out which I thought was better and why. As much as I enjoyed Colin Firth's and Geoffrey Rush's performances as King George and Lionel Logue, in the end they weren't enough to match the brainy joys of Aaron Sorkin's audacious script for "The Social Network," which was easily the best of the year. That, plus "The Social Network's" consistent quality in every other category you could name, put it ahead in the end.
The rest of this year's Oscar nominees were better than last year, but still a mixed bag. I didn't like "The Fighter," and felt that David O'Russell really lucked out with the performances of Christian Bale and Melissa Leo. While "Toy Story 3" was a lot of fun and exceeded my expectations, I didn't think it was awards-worthy. It got too maudlin and self-important for that, and "Toy Story 2" remains my favorite of the trilogy. Probably the most disappointing nominee was "True Grit," which I didn't find nearly as charming or iconic as the original with John Wayne. I wonder if I would have felt differently if I'd watched the Coen brothers' version first. Similarly, "The Kids are All Right" had a few moments that were interesting, but just played out like a typical indie comedy about a dysfunctional family. The subject matter may have pushed buttons for some, but once you got past the idea that there were two moms and one was cheating, it was very familiar territory.
Harder to dismiss was "Black Swan," which was a fantastic, intense story of ballet and madness from Darren Aronofsky. And yet, I thought "Black Swan" fell short of "Requiem for a Dream" and "The Fountain," two aggressively ambitious films from the same director. I got the sense that Aronofsky wasn't at the top if his game with "Black Swan," and though it may not be fair, that counted against him. "Winter's Bone" was also a wonderful find, and I'm glad it got so much recognition, but there were a few moments that rang false - too many to overlook. Among oft mentioned also-rans, "Fair Game" was too narrow in scope to say anything particularly interesting, "Somewhere" didn't feel properly developed, and "The Ghost Writer" did nothing for me. "Shutter Island" was a lot better than I think most people realized, but again not quite good enough to be awards worthy. I'd have given "The Fighter's" spot to "Rabbit Hole," which was far from perfect, but had several strong, overlooked performances.
Among the foreign notables, "Animal Kingdom" was on the list for a while, but with so many more daring films this year, it got edged out. Same with "Carlos," which features an excellent performance by Edgar Ramirez, and "I Am Love" with Tilda Swinton. "In a Better World" won the Oscar, but got too contrived for me. I was anticipating the British terrorism satire "Four Lions," but the characters were portrayed as much too incompetent to impart any real thrills, and the whole thing just came off as very, very silly. Alejandro González Iñárritu's "Biutiful" had the opposite problem, which was wallowing in its own misery to a deplorable degree. The French film "Of Gods and Men" went over my head, while I still have some very conflicted feelings about "Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives." One nice surprise was "The Milk of Sorrow," a Peruvian film that nabbed an Oscar nomination but not much critical attention.
Documentaries had a very good year, but the war chronicles, like "Restrepo" and "The Tillman Story," and Wall Street exposes, like "Inside Job" and "Client 9," didn't interest me as much as the ones tackling more obscure subjects, like "Marwencol," "A Film Unfinished," "Waking Sleeping Beauty," and perhaps "Catfish," if it turns out that it really was a documentary. I also thought the animated films of 2010 had some real gems, like "How to Train Your Dragon," "Tangled," "My Dog Tulip," "The Borrower Arrietty," and parts of "Despicable Me."
Finally, a few personal favorites that I briefly considered were Vincezo Natali's "Splice," which audiences abhorred but I got a lot of good squirms out of, "Scott Pilgrim vs. the World," for sheer chutzpah, "The American," for doing a lot with a little, and "Easy A," for introducing us to the joys of Emma Stone. "Never Let Me Go" and "White Material" were on the list almost until the end, and were among the hardest to cut. I still like them both an awful lot.
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Wednesday, October 5, 2011
My Top 10 Films of 2010, Plus One
Well, no point in dragging this out any longer. Here are my top ten films of 2010. My criteria for eligibility is that a film has to have been released in its own home country during 2010, so film festivals and other special screenings don't count. Picks are unranked, and this year include three foreign films, one animated film, one documentary, one science fiction film, and two fictional films based on real life events. Possibly three. Links lead to the full reviews previously posted on this blog. Here we go.
Exit Through the Gift Shop - The most exciting cinema mystery of the year was guessing which parts of "Exit Through the Gift Shop" were real and which were staged. The identity and intentions of its director, the street artist Banksy, remain a mystery, and so far the real circumstances of the film's creation have too. But that doesn't stop it from being a wonderful primer on the street art movement, a cautionary tale about fame, a satire on doing business in the art world, and a portrait of an aspiring filmmaker who turns out to have only a limited understanding of his subject.
The Illusionist - A labor of love by the French animation director Sylvain Chomet, who turned an unproduced script by the great French comic Jacques Tati into a traditionally animated film. Mostly silent, very subdued, and deeply nostalgic in tone, "The Illusionist" follows the declining career of a master showman in his twilight years, who must bring his act to a close and cede the stage to a new era. Full of small delights and subtle sorrows, that one suspects are more Chomet than Tati, it was nonetheless the best animated film in a very good year for animated films.
The Social Network - They're making a film about Facebook?! A laughable notion just a little over a year ago, but when the filmmakers include director David Fincher and writer Aaron Sorkin, and the cast full of burgeoning young talents like Jesse Eisenberg, Andrew Garfield, Justin Timberlake, and Armie Hammer, it's no laughing matter. Less a film about the internet than the internet age, and the morality of the generation that spawned it, "The Social Network" may go down as the defining film of an era. Or at least it'll share the title with "Scott Pilgrim vs. the World."
Another Year - Mike Leigh's latest small-scale masterpiece looks at the interactions of an aging British couple with various friends and relations over the course of an eventful year. Why are some of them so happy and some of them so unhappy? Is it luck? A result of their personal choices? Or is it all just a state of mind? For a film where most of the cast is older, and so much misery is dealt out to the characters, "Another Year" is remarkably blunt and unsentimental. For a film that appears so pleasant and amiable at first glance, it has some startling, and perhaps uncomfortable depths.
Dogtooth - Extreme cinema tends to put me off, but Greek director Yorgos Lanthimos is interested in far more than sickening his audience. He first creates the proper context, by introducing one of the most twisted families ever caught on film, a microcosm of humanity suffering under oppression. It's hard not to think of the behavior of real world tyrants and governments when witnessing the cruel, often arbitrary schemes of the insane parents being inflicted upon their deeply repressed and ignorant offspring. The violence and sexuality in the film are indeed shocking, but also entirely appropriate.
Incendies - There have been so many films about war and carnage in the Middle East, they can start to blur together. "Incendies," however, is unforgettable. It dispenses with the usual political rhetoric and cuts through cultural complexities to chronicle the tragedy of a single woman's life, that continues to unfold even after her death. The film is a string of small heartbreaks, building up slowly to an emotional climax. Even if the final revelations may not come as much of a surprise, the performances and the skill of the storytelling will still hit you where it hurts.
Inception - We have so few real cultural touchstones anymore, that when a genuine one emerges, it tends to be an event. In the late summer of 2010, "Inception" caught fire and it was everywhere. One of the few bright spots in a season of disappointments, it gave those of us who were sick of watered-down blockbusters a potent reminder of what the right director can do with the full array of special effects available to modern directors. This is Christopher Nolan's best film since "Memento," and contains some of the most memorable images and mind-bending ideas of his entire career.
Blue Valentine - A bleak subversion of the notion of happily-ever-after romance. There's no denying that Dean and Cindy, played by Michelle Williams and Ryan Gosling, truly fall in love. But whether that love is able to sustain them through the difficulties of marriage, parenthood, and broken dreams is another matter entirely. The film may be best remembered for the MPAA controversy it sparked, and that's a shame. The performances are rich, the filmmaking is deft, and the stark honesty with which director Derek Cianfrance approaches the difficult material is far too rare.
127 Hours - This is my pick this year for the most enjoyable film experience, totally irrespective of the traditional measures of quality. Director Danny Boyle, fresh off his "Slumdog Millionaire" win, turned his attention to the true story of hiker Aron Ralston, who survived 127 hours pinned under a rock in a canyon in the Utah desert. The wildly kinetic style, fast-paced camera work, and fantasy sequences aren't there just to spice up a spatially limited scenario, but to reflect the inner world of Ralston, whose daredevil personality and can-do spirit may have been what saved him.
Poetry - Last year the thriller "Mother" was on my Top Ten list. This year, I'm including another Korean film with very similar themes and a very different approach to them. Lee Chang-Dong's "Poetry" is less about the moral quandry that its elderly heroine faces, than her struggle to gain the self-respect and self-awareness to assert herself when it comes time to make her decision. More contemplative and far less exciting than most of the recent Korean crime films, "Poetry" nonetheless evokes powerful emotions and features a heart-rending performance by its leading lady, Yoon Jeong-Hee.
And finally, I'm instituting something new. I'm adding a Plus One spot, for the best film of the previous year that I didn't get a chance to see before compiling my previous Top Ten list. Instead of bemoaning the fact that some obscure titles, particularly the foreign ones, tend to escape my notice until it's too late, I'm just going to make a little more space for them. So the best 2009 film that would have been on my last Top Ten list if I'd seen it in time is...
The Maid - A Chilean film about a maid, Raquel, who has devoted herself to an upper-class family for so long, she has become overly protective of them and a source of brewing conflicts. When her position is threatened, she goes to extremes to protect her place in the household, which leads to some unexpected revelations. Directed by Sebastián Silva and featuring a great performance by Catalina Saavedra, "The Maid" is refreshingly unpredictable and contains some of the best surprises that a film has managed to spring on me in a long time.
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Exit Through the Gift Shop - The most exciting cinema mystery of the year was guessing which parts of "Exit Through the Gift Shop" were real and which were staged. The identity and intentions of its director, the street artist Banksy, remain a mystery, and so far the real circumstances of the film's creation have too. But that doesn't stop it from being a wonderful primer on the street art movement, a cautionary tale about fame, a satire on doing business in the art world, and a portrait of an aspiring filmmaker who turns out to have only a limited understanding of his subject.
The Illusionist - A labor of love by the French animation director Sylvain Chomet, who turned an unproduced script by the great French comic Jacques Tati into a traditionally animated film. Mostly silent, very subdued, and deeply nostalgic in tone, "The Illusionist" follows the declining career of a master showman in his twilight years, who must bring his act to a close and cede the stage to a new era. Full of small delights and subtle sorrows, that one suspects are more Chomet than Tati, it was nonetheless the best animated film in a very good year for animated films.
The Social Network - They're making a film about Facebook?! A laughable notion just a little over a year ago, but when the filmmakers include director David Fincher and writer Aaron Sorkin, and the cast full of burgeoning young talents like Jesse Eisenberg, Andrew Garfield, Justin Timberlake, and Armie Hammer, it's no laughing matter. Less a film about the internet than the internet age, and the morality of the generation that spawned it, "The Social Network" may go down as the defining film of an era. Or at least it'll share the title with "Scott Pilgrim vs. the World."
Another Year - Mike Leigh's latest small-scale masterpiece looks at the interactions of an aging British couple with various friends and relations over the course of an eventful year. Why are some of them so happy and some of them so unhappy? Is it luck? A result of their personal choices? Or is it all just a state of mind? For a film where most of the cast is older, and so much misery is dealt out to the characters, "Another Year" is remarkably blunt and unsentimental. For a film that appears so pleasant and amiable at first glance, it has some startling, and perhaps uncomfortable depths.
Dogtooth - Extreme cinema tends to put me off, but Greek director Yorgos Lanthimos is interested in far more than sickening his audience. He first creates the proper context, by introducing one of the most twisted families ever caught on film, a microcosm of humanity suffering under oppression. It's hard not to think of the behavior of real world tyrants and governments when witnessing the cruel, often arbitrary schemes of the insane parents being inflicted upon their deeply repressed and ignorant offspring. The violence and sexuality in the film are indeed shocking, but also entirely appropriate.
Incendies - There have been so many films about war and carnage in the Middle East, they can start to blur together. "Incendies," however, is unforgettable. It dispenses with the usual political rhetoric and cuts through cultural complexities to chronicle the tragedy of a single woman's life, that continues to unfold even after her death. The film is a string of small heartbreaks, building up slowly to an emotional climax. Even if the final revelations may not come as much of a surprise, the performances and the skill of the storytelling will still hit you where it hurts.
Inception - We have so few real cultural touchstones anymore, that when a genuine one emerges, it tends to be an event. In the late summer of 2010, "Inception" caught fire and it was everywhere. One of the few bright spots in a season of disappointments, it gave those of us who were sick of watered-down blockbusters a potent reminder of what the right director can do with the full array of special effects available to modern directors. This is Christopher Nolan's best film since "Memento," and contains some of the most memorable images and mind-bending ideas of his entire career.
Blue Valentine - A bleak subversion of the notion of happily-ever-after romance. There's no denying that Dean and Cindy, played by Michelle Williams and Ryan Gosling, truly fall in love. But whether that love is able to sustain them through the difficulties of marriage, parenthood, and broken dreams is another matter entirely. The film may be best remembered for the MPAA controversy it sparked, and that's a shame. The performances are rich, the filmmaking is deft, and the stark honesty with which director Derek Cianfrance approaches the difficult material is far too rare.
127 Hours - This is my pick this year for the most enjoyable film experience, totally irrespective of the traditional measures of quality. Director Danny Boyle, fresh off his "Slumdog Millionaire" win, turned his attention to the true story of hiker Aron Ralston, who survived 127 hours pinned under a rock in a canyon in the Utah desert. The wildly kinetic style, fast-paced camera work, and fantasy sequences aren't there just to spice up a spatially limited scenario, but to reflect the inner world of Ralston, whose daredevil personality and can-do spirit may have been what saved him.
Poetry - Last year the thriller "Mother" was on my Top Ten list. This year, I'm including another Korean film with very similar themes and a very different approach to them. Lee Chang-Dong's "Poetry" is less about the moral quandry that its elderly heroine faces, than her struggle to gain the self-respect and self-awareness to assert herself when it comes time to make her decision. More contemplative and far less exciting than most of the recent Korean crime films, "Poetry" nonetheless evokes powerful emotions and features a heart-rending performance by its leading lady, Yoon Jeong-Hee.
And finally, I'm instituting something new. I'm adding a Plus One spot, for the best film of the previous year that I didn't get a chance to see before compiling my previous Top Ten list. Instead of bemoaning the fact that some obscure titles, particularly the foreign ones, tend to escape my notice until it's too late, I'm just going to make a little more space for them. So the best 2009 film that would have been on my last Top Ten list if I'd seen it in time is...
The Maid - A Chilean film about a maid, Raquel, who has devoted herself to an upper-class family for so long, she has become overly protective of them and a source of brewing conflicts. When her position is threatened, she goes to extremes to protect her place in the household, which leads to some unexpected revelations. Directed by Sebastián Silva and featuring a great performance by Catalina Saavedra, "The Maid" is refreshingly unpredictable and contains some of the best surprises that a film has managed to spring on me in a long time.
---
Honorable Mentions
Never Let Me Go
Certified Copy
Scott Pilgrim vs. the World
Black Swan
Winter's Bone
Rabbit Hole
Animal Kingdom
I Am Love
Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives
The Milk of Sorrow
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Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Brace Yourself for "Dancer in the Dark"
Why do I do this to myself? I knew Lars von Trier's "Dancer in the Dark" was an incredibly depressing, emotionally exhausting film by reputation. I sat through "Dogville" in a state of endless discomfort, watching Nicole Kidman's heroine being subjected to countless depravities over the course of the three hour running time. I found "Antichrist" practically unwatchable, loaded with shock-cinema imagery in incredibly poor taste. Why would I watch another Von Trier film, particularly the one that is widely considered to be among his most manipulative and upsetting? Because in spite of how unbearable "Dancer in the Dark" is to endure at times, the film is fantastic.
Selma (Icelandic singer Björk) is a Czech immigrant to the United States, who lives with her young son Gene (Vladica Kostic) in a rented trailer, and works a machine press at a local factory. She has a friend in fellow worker Cathy (Catherine Deneuve), who she nicknames Cvalda, and is persistently courted by Jeff (Peter Stormare), who awkwardly offers her rides home every day. Her pleasures in life are few, the main one being her participation in a local theater class, where she has secured the part of Maria in their production of "Sound of Music." However, few realize that Selma's eyesight is failing due to a hereditary condition. She hopes that she can spare Gene from the same fate by saving up enough money for an operation for him, before she becomes completely blind. She shares the secret with her landlord Bill (David Morse) after he confides in her that he has money troubles, which turns out to be a terrible mistake.
And in typical Lars von Trier fashion, the audience is then forced to watch the total disintegration of Selma's life, and it's as traumatic and heart-wrenching as you'd expect. It's also terribly contrived, based on a set of coincidences that grow more and more preposterous with every passing minute. The actions of David Morse's character are complete nonsense. Tragedies compound upon tragedies in an endless downward spiral. The only reason the film manages any believability at all is because of Björk's performance as the naive, innocent Selma. Björk is so open and so vulnerable and offers up such unfettered emotions to the screen, the viewer forgets that she's performing. This is even true in the scenes where Selma escapes from the harshness of reality through daydreams, which turn her immediate surroundings - the factory, a courtroom, a prison - into elaborately staged musical numbers.
Oh yes. Did I mention that "Dancer is the Dark" is a musical? Roughly half a dozen songs were composed for the film by Björk, who also performs them as Selma. If you've never heard Björk before, her music is madly, wonderfully strange, full of whispers and wails and nearly unintelligible lyrics that nonetheless strike deep. Von Trier chose to shoot "Dancer in the Dark" with digital cameras and few production niceties, so the film has a harsh visual realism that's almost Dogme 95 at times, but not quite. He doesn't change the style for the musical numbers, aside from utilizing some more extreme shots and turning up the color saturation a notch, so between Von Trier and Björk these musical interludes are entirely unique. The only thing that's remotely conventional about them is the choreography, patterned after the grand old musicals of the Hollywood Golden Age that Selma adores.
"In a musical, nothing dreadful ever happens," Selma says at one point, which one suspects gets to the heart of what Lars von Trier was trying to do with "Dancer in the Dark." He criticizes the musical form, but also uses it to wonderful effect. Sometimes the numbers seem a little shoehorned in, like the one at the factory, but otherwise they are used as they were meant to be, as storytelling devices. The standout is "I've Seen it All," where Selma tries to convince Jeff and herself that she doesn't mind losing her eyesight, and participates in a striking dance sequence aboard a moving train. There are also several nods to musical film tradition, including the presence of Catherine Deneuve and a short, memorable appearance by Joel Grey. I suspect the director may enjoy musicals as much as his heroine does.
In the end, though, he is still Lars von Trier, and must devastate his audience with all the dark powers of filmmaking at his disposal. The ending of "Dancer in the Dark" is one of the most wrenching, intense, and cathartic that I've seen. Perhaps he is needlessly cruel, but at the same time he's so good at it, I can't bring myself to complain. I've never seen a screen musical with this much raw power and impact, and Von Trier is the one to thank for it. Or blame for it. Your choice.
---
Selma (Icelandic singer Björk) is a Czech immigrant to the United States, who lives with her young son Gene (Vladica Kostic) in a rented trailer, and works a machine press at a local factory. She has a friend in fellow worker Cathy (Catherine Deneuve), who she nicknames Cvalda, and is persistently courted by Jeff (Peter Stormare), who awkwardly offers her rides home every day. Her pleasures in life are few, the main one being her participation in a local theater class, where she has secured the part of Maria in their production of "Sound of Music." However, few realize that Selma's eyesight is failing due to a hereditary condition. She hopes that she can spare Gene from the same fate by saving up enough money for an operation for him, before she becomes completely blind. She shares the secret with her landlord Bill (David Morse) after he confides in her that he has money troubles, which turns out to be a terrible mistake.
And in typical Lars von Trier fashion, the audience is then forced to watch the total disintegration of Selma's life, and it's as traumatic and heart-wrenching as you'd expect. It's also terribly contrived, based on a set of coincidences that grow more and more preposterous with every passing minute. The actions of David Morse's character are complete nonsense. Tragedies compound upon tragedies in an endless downward spiral. The only reason the film manages any believability at all is because of Björk's performance as the naive, innocent Selma. Björk is so open and so vulnerable and offers up such unfettered emotions to the screen, the viewer forgets that she's performing. This is even true in the scenes where Selma escapes from the harshness of reality through daydreams, which turn her immediate surroundings - the factory, a courtroom, a prison - into elaborately staged musical numbers.
Oh yes. Did I mention that "Dancer is the Dark" is a musical? Roughly half a dozen songs were composed for the film by Björk, who also performs them as Selma. If you've never heard Björk before, her music is madly, wonderfully strange, full of whispers and wails and nearly unintelligible lyrics that nonetheless strike deep. Von Trier chose to shoot "Dancer in the Dark" with digital cameras and few production niceties, so the film has a harsh visual realism that's almost Dogme 95 at times, but not quite. He doesn't change the style for the musical numbers, aside from utilizing some more extreme shots and turning up the color saturation a notch, so between Von Trier and Björk these musical interludes are entirely unique. The only thing that's remotely conventional about them is the choreography, patterned after the grand old musicals of the Hollywood Golden Age that Selma adores.
"In a musical, nothing dreadful ever happens," Selma says at one point, which one suspects gets to the heart of what Lars von Trier was trying to do with "Dancer in the Dark." He criticizes the musical form, but also uses it to wonderful effect. Sometimes the numbers seem a little shoehorned in, like the one at the factory, but otherwise they are used as they were meant to be, as storytelling devices. The standout is "I've Seen it All," where Selma tries to convince Jeff and herself that she doesn't mind losing her eyesight, and participates in a striking dance sequence aboard a moving train. There are also several nods to musical film tradition, including the presence of Catherine Deneuve and a short, memorable appearance by Joel Grey. I suspect the director may enjoy musicals as much as his heroine does.
In the end, though, he is still Lars von Trier, and must devastate his audience with all the dark powers of filmmaking at his disposal. The ending of "Dancer in the Dark" is one of the most wrenching, intense, and cathartic that I've seen. Perhaps he is needlessly cruel, but at the same time he's so good at it, I can't bring myself to complain. I've never seen a screen musical with this much raw power and impact, and Von Trier is the one to thank for it. Or blame for it. Your choice.
---
Monday, October 3, 2011
"Doctor Who" Season Wrap-Up
"Doctor Who" just pulled off another outrageous cheat in its season finale, broke a bunch of other longstanding rules, and left me extremely satisfied and ready for more. It's been a great season for our favorite alien time traveler and his band of companions, so I thought I ought to put down a few thoughts. Many spoilers lie ahead.
I enjoyed Steven Moffat and Matt Smith's first year with the Doctor, which was a lot more dependent on plot than character. It left me appreciative of the wild plot twists and reveals, but not really engaged by what was going on. The only episode I found memorable was "Vincent and the Doctor," which ironically was one of those really strong one-off installments that Moffat was always so good at during Russel T. Davies' tenure. I liked all the characters, particularly companions Amy Pond (Karen Gillian) and Rory (Arthur Darvill). The Doctor, as played by Matt Smith, never quite clicked for me though, and I was totally ambivalent on River Song (Alex Kingston), who was described as exciting and adventurous more often than we actually saw her being exciting and adventurous.
This year, the sixth season since the revival, was much, much better. It featured an ongoing storyline, where the Doctor learns that he's going to murdered at a specific time and date, and that Amy, Rory, and most especially River are all involved for very convoluted reasons. Nearly every episode emphasized the development of the characters and their relationships, especially in the second half of the season when the Doctor has to face the inevitable. Matt Smith's Doctor emerged at last as a subtler, quieter, more thoughtful, and less dramatic incarnation of the character, who I grew to like very much. He's as protective and angstful and arrogant as ever, but with more self-control and self-awareness. His emotions are played closer to the vest, and he is better at keeping calm in situations where the David Tennant Doctor would have lost his temper.
So I don't think you could have done the second half of this series with Tennant, where the Doctor grows increasingly guilt-ridden and disillusioned through a series of difficult, horror-tinged adventures that put Amy and Rory through the emotional wringer. The Doctor has his moments of soul-searching and self-castigation, as all the previous ones have, but this time, in this series, we have a Doctor who decides the risk is unacceptable and does something about it. After a particularly trying ordeal patterned after "The Shining," the Doctor simply drops Amy and Rory off at home, and tells them honestly that it's become too dangerous to continue traveling together. Of course the parting with is brief, as Gillian and Darvill remain regulars for the rest of the series, but when you compare this development to the dramatic sendoffs of the last three companions, Moffat's more measured approach to the Doctor stands out.
Amy and Rory also improved some, with Karen Gillian getting one really good episode almost all to herself, and big parts in a few others. Arthur Darvill didn't share as much of the spotlight, but he's so solid whenever he does get a moment or two, his part seems bigger than it actually is. I'm still not sure about River Song as a character, though Alex Kingston is wonderful. However, I have to hand it to the creators that they did very good things with her this year. River becomes more sympathetic as her big secrets start being revealed, including her origins, her purpose, what she went to jail for, and what her relationship to the Doctor is. The big bombshell that gets dropped in the finale was more than enough to make me temporarily ignore all the questions that didn't get answered, and probably won't be in the foreseeable future.
Best of all, the Doctor has been left in an interesting place - presumed dead, no companions, in a very new phase of a very strange relationship, and possibly ready to move on from a lot of guilt and a lot of unhappy thoughts. Plans for the next season seems to be a little uncertain as to who is coming back and who isn't, so there's no telling where Moffat is going to take the Doctor next. After so many overwrought, effects-filled finales, I think this is the best the show has had in a while, because it deals so heavily in all the little personal matters that are monumental only to those directly impacted by them - the cast of characters we've been getting to know better all series long.
I hope Moffat and Smith have a long tenure, and that Christmas (and the next "Who" special) will come soon this year. Oh, and that they can get Neil Gaiman back for another episode. "The Doctor's Wife" was just lovely.
---
I enjoyed Steven Moffat and Matt Smith's first year with the Doctor, which was a lot more dependent on plot than character. It left me appreciative of the wild plot twists and reveals, but not really engaged by what was going on. The only episode I found memorable was "Vincent and the Doctor," which ironically was one of those really strong one-off installments that Moffat was always so good at during Russel T. Davies' tenure. I liked all the characters, particularly companions Amy Pond (Karen Gillian) and Rory (Arthur Darvill). The Doctor, as played by Matt Smith, never quite clicked for me though, and I was totally ambivalent on River Song (Alex Kingston), who was described as exciting and adventurous more often than we actually saw her being exciting and adventurous.
This year, the sixth season since the revival, was much, much better. It featured an ongoing storyline, where the Doctor learns that he's going to murdered at a specific time and date, and that Amy, Rory, and most especially River are all involved for very convoluted reasons. Nearly every episode emphasized the development of the characters and their relationships, especially in the second half of the season when the Doctor has to face the inevitable. Matt Smith's Doctor emerged at last as a subtler, quieter, more thoughtful, and less dramatic incarnation of the character, who I grew to like very much. He's as protective and angstful and arrogant as ever, but with more self-control and self-awareness. His emotions are played closer to the vest, and he is better at keeping calm in situations where the David Tennant Doctor would have lost his temper.
So I don't think you could have done the second half of this series with Tennant, where the Doctor grows increasingly guilt-ridden and disillusioned through a series of difficult, horror-tinged adventures that put Amy and Rory through the emotional wringer. The Doctor has his moments of soul-searching and self-castigation, as all the previous ones have, but this time, in this series, we have a Doctor who decides the risk is unacceptable and does something about it. After a particularly trying ordeal patterned after "The Shining," the Doctor simply drops Amy and Rory off at home, and tells them honestly that it's become too dangerous to continue traveling together. Of course the parting with is brief, as Gillian and Darvill remain regulars for the rest of the series, but when you compare this development to the dramatic sendoffs of the last three companions, Moffat's more measured approach to the Doctor stands out.
Amy and Rory also improved some, with Karen Gillian getting one really good episode almost all to herself, and big parts in a few others. Arthur Darvill didn't share as much of the spotlight, but he's so solid whenever he does get a moment or two, his part seems bigger than it actually is. I'm still not sure about River Song as a character, though Alex Kingston is wonderful. However, I have to hand it to the creators that they did very good things with her this year. River becomes more sympathetic as her big secrets start being revealed, including her origins, her purpose, what she went to jail for, and what her relationship to the Doctor is. The big bombshell that gets dropped in the finale was more than enough to make me temporarily ignore all the questions that didn't get answered, and probably won't be in the foreseeable future.
Best of all, the Doctor has been left in an interesting place - presumed dead, no companions, in a very new phase of a very strange relationship, and possibly ready to move on from a lot of guilt and a lot of unhappy thoughts. Plans for the next season seems to be a little uncertain as to who is coming back and who isn't, so there's no telling where Moffat is going to take the Doctor next. After so many overwrought, effects-filled finales, I think this is the best the show has had in a while, because it deals so heavily in all the little personal matters that are monumental only to those directly impacted by them - the cast of characters we've been getting to know better all series long.
I hope Moffat and Smith have a long tenure, and that Christmas (and the next "Who" special) will come soon this year. Oh, and that they can get Neil Gaiman back for another episode. "The Doctor's Wife" was just lovely.
---
Sunday, October 2, 2011
A Damned Impressive "Apes"
Some have characterized "Rise of the Planet of the Apes" as a franchise reboot, which isn't quite right. It makes numerous references to the original 1968 "Planet of the Apes," but functions as a prequel, presenting an alternative to the trio of 70s "Apes" films that explained how the primates came to power. "Rise of the Planet of the Apes" borrows some ideas and characters, including the protagonist Caesar, leader of the ape revolutionaries, but is an entirely different animal altogether. Last pun. I promise.
In the new film, Caesar (Andy Sirkis) is the child of a female chimpanzee named Bright Eyes (Terry Notary), a test subject in the laboratories of a pharmaceutical company. The scientists, led by Will Rodman (James Franco), are developing a promising new drug to combat Alzheimers, which Will's father Charles (John Lithgow) suffers from. Bright Eyes begins to exhibit signs of enhanced intelligence after exposure to the new drug, but an accident leads to her death and the scuttling of Will's research. To save the baby chimp from being put down, Will takes Caesar home, and it quickly becomes apparent that Caesar is developing an astonishing intelligence and self-awareness.
Over forty years of improvements in special effects allow the ape characters of "Rise of the Planet of the Apes" to finally look like convincing real-world animals, while also utilizing human performances to make them memorable characters. The previous "Apes" films, including Tim Buton's famously disastrous 2001 remake, all used humans in elaborate makeup to portray chimpanzees, orangutans, and gorillas. Here, Caesar is brought to life through a combination of motion capture and animation, courtesy of WETA, who did such wonderful work on Peter Jackson's "King Kong." This allows the character to have much more physicality, swinging around overhead at the Rodman house or showing off climbing skills in the action sequences.
Those action sequences are going to be the major draw for some, as the film delivers on its promise to show the initial primate uprising that will eventually bring about the downfall of humanity. Full scale warfare between man and apes doesn't erupt, but we get a good taste of what that might look like a sequel or two down the line. However, as well-done and entertaining as the big set pieces are, it's the lead-up to them that's the most impressive part of the film. Caesar is a wonderful character, not only for the technical advancements that bring him to the screen, but in how he is developed. The arc of the story he is given is unusually thoughtful and well-considered.
In spite of being an obvious genre picture, the filmmakers examine a lot of heavy thematic material and pay a lot of attention to characters' interactions and relationships. Early scenes let us watch Caesar grow up with Will and Charles, forming emotional bonds and learning to communicate through sign language. After attacking a neighbor to protect the mentally deteriorating Charles, he's sent off to an ape sanctuary run by a villainous Brian Cox and Tom Felton, where he meets other apes for the first time and begins fomenting discontent against human society. The efforts of Andy Sirkis and WETA's animators create a subtle, striking performance, that allows Caesar to become a deeply compelling and memorable protagonist.
Sadly the visible human beings in the cast don't come off nearly as well, though I suppose this is by necessity, considering the premise. Several characters are notably flat, such as Will's boss Steven Jacobs (David Oyewolo), who is driven entirely by money, and the female lead Caroline (Frieda Pinto), who serves as one of the few voices of caution in the film. Lithgow and Franco certainly fill their roles well, but are firmly supporting characters, and probably should have had less screen time. I wanted more apes and more of the interactions among the apes, which would have helped set up the last act a little better.
Otherwise, it's hard to find much fault with the film. "Rise of the Planet of the Apes" is thoughtful, entertaining science-fiction, that easily stands on its own without any help from its predecessors. At the same time, fans will appreciate all the little homages and call backs to the older films, though the repurposing of a few lines of familiar dialogue is a little awkward. Most importantly, like "X-Men: First Class" earlier in the year, "Rise of the Planet of the Apes" has jump-started a franchise that many had written off. There's already chatter that director Rupert Wyatt has plans for a trilogy about Caeser.
I can't wait to see it.
---
In the new film, Caesar (Andy Sirkis) is the child of a female chimpanzee named Bright Eyes (Terry Notary), a test subject in the laboratories of a pharmaceutical company. The scientists, led by Will Rodman (James Franco), are developing a promising new drug to combat Alzheimers, which Will's father Charles (John Lithgow) suffers from. Bright Eyes begins to exhibit signs of enhanced intelligence after exposure to the new drug, but an accident leads to her death and the scuttling of Will's research. To save the baby chimp from being put down, Will takes Caesar home, and it quickly becomes apparent that Caesar is developing an astonishing intelligence and self-awareness.
Over forty years of improvements in special effects allow the ape characters of "Rise of the Planet of the Apes" to finally look like convincing real-world animals, while also utilizing human performances to make them memorable characters. The previous "Apes" films, including Tim Buton's famously disastrous 2001 remake, all used humans in elaborate makeup to portray chimpanzees, orangutans, and gorillas. Here, Caesar is brought to life through a combination of motion capture and animation, courtesy of WETA, who did such wonderful work on Peter Jackson's "King Kong." This allows the character to have much more physicality, swinging around overhead at the Rodman house or showing off climbing skills in the action sequences.
Those action sequences are going to be the major draw for some, as the film delivers on its promise to show the initial primate uprising that will eventually bring about the downfall of humanity. Full scale warfare between man and apes doesn't erupt, but we get a good taste of what that might look like a sequel or two down the line. However, as well-done and entertaining as the big set pieces are, it's the lead-up to them that's the most impressive part of the film. Caesar is a wonderful character, not only for the technical advancements that bring him to the screen, but in how he is developed. The arc of the story he is given is unusually thoughtful and well-considered.
In spite of being an obvious genre picture, the filmmakers examine a lot of heavy thematic material and pay a lot of attention to characters' interactions and relationships. Early scenes let us watch Caesar grow up with Will and Charles, forming emotional bonds and learning to communicate through sign language. After attacking a neighbor to protect the mentally deteriorating Charles, he's sent off to an ape sanctuary run by a villainous Brian Cox and Tom Felton, where he meets other apes for the first time and begins fomenting discontent against human society. The efforts of Andy Sirkis and WETA's animators create a subtle, striking performance, that allows Caesar to become a deeply compelling and memorable protagonist.
Sadly the visible human beings in the cast don't come off nearly as well, though I suppose this is by necessity, considering the premise. Several characters are notably flat, such as Will's boss Steven Jacobs (David Oyewolo), who is driven entirely by money, and the female lead Caroline (Frieda Pinto), who serves as one of the few voices of caution in the film. Lithgow and Franco certainly fill their roles well, but are firmly supporting characters, and probably should have had less screen time. I wanted more apes and more of the interactions among the apes, which would have helped set up the last act a little better.
Otherwise, it's hard to find much fault with the film. "Rise of the Planet of the Apes" is thoughtful, entertaining science-fiction, that easily stands on its own without any help from its predecessors. At the same time, fans will appreciate all the little homages and call backs to the older films, though the repurposing of a few lines of familiar dialogue is a little awkward. Most importantly, like "X-Men: First Class" earlier in the year, "Rise of the Planet of the Apes" has jump-started a franchise that many had written off. There's already chatter that director Rupert Wyatt has plans for a trilogy about Caeser.
I can't wait to see it.
---
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