I Didn't See A Batman/Superman Film This Weekend

The writing is beyond the walls, and the consensus has largely digested a pretty clearly shared distaste for certain filmmakers this weekend. In many ways, I feel like I shouldn't even have to comment on any of this. It's not a place fot a review because to put it any more plainly, what many of us witnessed, wasn't something any film pundit, theorist, or armchair theorist could dissect outside of an autopsy. I didn't see a Batman/Superman film this weekend. I truly didn't. I didn't see the adverts plastered across every third corner of my L.A. living eye, and say to myself that what was contained within the two plus hours of footage, something that resembled a coherent story filled with discernible beats, engaging characters, thematic throughlines, and even an attempt at capturing the most important element in such common superhero tales, the essence of these mythological beings, and the ethos they each uniquely stand for.

It's not enough that I dislike Batman v. Superman: Dawn Of Justice, it's more that I find it's existence to be pretty much tragic.

I don't see merely failed storytelling. I see board meetings soon after the glow of Harry Potter, and the Dark Knight Trilogy fading into the distance, while Sony crumbles from awkward start to post-internet hack panic attack. I see film executives fumbling over how to best repair the damage done by hoping that throwing money at auteurs, and expecting workable franchises with no real personal investment in a shared universe, nor its slate of popular characters.  That's right. This entire debacle can be traced back to when WB said nevermind to Justice League soon after the Iron Mans took flight, and Asgardian royalty graced Earth with his presence. I see a cat, scrambling desperately after diving into a tub of scorpions after thinking that might be a good idea. No, cat. There is no grace to be found. Licking your paw, feigning innocence will not help you today. This is what many of us would like to call either hubris, or a deliberate attempt to renege against the very task you chose . A work of corporate art, undone by juvenile, throbbing, gnashing, bile duct expending, knee-jerk, anti-human. borderline sociopathic emotion, far less interested in storytelling and world-building than it is in flexing its muscles in the name of creating an anti-altar for those it deems lesser than they.

That is right. In a nutshell, this film hates you.

However, this project cannot find any more clever means of expressing this hate than nods to Benghazi, a middle finger to democracy, and shooting a beloved boy photojournalist square in the face. If one were a conspiracy nut, it might not even be a stretch to assume that those involved were taking their reflexive stance on the very idea of this film, and plugging in what they feel is a "necessary" counterpoint to the more all-inclusive, community-centric, closer to centrist politics of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. It felt that a certain demographic had indeed found itself largely ignored in multiplex cinema, and figured the opposition during a contentious time of political turmoil, required a voice. This film openly doesn't care about the endless nods to FDR and the spirit of the New Deal that inspired the classic Superman character. It's not that the film simply doesn't understand him, it sees him as problematic in their view. They cannot reconcile with his very existence, even in fiction, so this is what we get. In fact, similar comes in the shape of a grizzled, homicidal Batman, who's motivations feel less organic to the tormented billionaire playboy, and more to a painterly violence fetishist with the reasoning of an abused pre-teen. The film simply doesn't work, not because it fails to tell a story, but because those in charge never listened to the warning signs posted writ large by films such as 300 & Watchmen. Films that adore the punishment of the morally compromised, and the aggrandization of extremism over conversations. They saw pretty pictures about fascists, and thought that was good enough.

And what they have on their hands, is something both blander, unintentionally funnier, and uglier than I could ever have imagined. Like sending a loved one a bag of feces in protest, when all one had to do was walk away from what looked on paper to be a bad deal. With my day job as help for a powerful law firm in a Century City high rise, suddenly, the title makes total, telling, completely honest sense. If it's not merely desperate to sell based on a battle that barely lasts for seven minutes, it is desperate to call to attention the legal clusterfuck hovering over a studio scrambling for something resembling a clue.

Or perhaps it's merely an engravement on a tombstone? Either way, it's a raging sigh for a culture awash in its own poor choices.


Post Script: There is another telling moment in the denouement, where Bruce Wayne posits to Diana Prince (Gal Gadot, who's Wonder Woman, is gravely underused) that the so-called Metahumans, should eventually band together (in a nod to the possibly-now-not-upcoming Justice League feature?) . And when questioned about this by Diana, Wayne (not looking her way) replies with the supposedly arc-completing line, "Men are still good". This is after certain female characters are seen to be killed in a suicide bombing, targeting a place of power. 

Take from that what you will..

Ethan Hunt & The Power Of Self-Effacement

Art, is always open to new opportunity.

Even when speaking of highly commercial vehicles, often designed as a print making license.

Which is what makes this creature so curious when talking about Tom Cruise, and his artistic management arc throughout the twenty year history of his Mission Impossible film series. We have seen film franchises wear different garb from work to work before, but rarely has it been as varied and telling like Ethan Hunt's globe-trotting adventures with the ever besieged IMF. And with Rogue Nation, the flight pattern turns yet again, into what at last feels like something out of a wholly new cloth from where they started. Sitting in the darkened theater this time, felt so much like a final maturation stage. A means of balancing out all that had come before, in ways that perhaps weren't evident as the series began back with Brian De Palma, back in 1996.

Mission Impossible (1996)

What struck me most about Ethan Hunt's first go-round as point-man, and ultimately leader, is how painterly, and yet eager it was to ease the public into an increasingly complex spy cartoon in lieu of the just-then ending Cold War. Fan-kicking plot twist aside, this first piece is clearly concerned with establishing Cruise as the essential attraction, while De Palma's pastiche does its part to create a comprehensible world despite the often iffy plot mechanics. What results, often feels more akin to a three-stage video game from the Nintendo 64 era. Three major set pieces, barely held together by a plot to make sure this is Ethan Hunt's story. A self-conscious move, perhaps, but a star-laden, often lovely to behold piece of pop silly. It's a shallow ride, but the Prague job and the Langley mission remain worth price of admission.

Mission Impossible 2 (2000)

Made in the eye of the Hollywood/Hong Kong Gush era, John Woo's bizarre entry to the new series finds us in some truly bizarre, and hopelessly idiosyncratic territory. Taking a page from Hitchcock's Notorious, Ethan Hunt's mostly solo outing as a single point in a most awkward love triangle remains the series' most egregious misstep. Instead of offering up more ensemble fun, gadgets, and intrigue, all we get is one confused muddle regarding a killer virus, and a showcase for Cruise to exist in a post-Matrix landscape. He climbs desert cliffs, he wears black, he's got the light of God on his side. It's a bizarre manga wannabe, complete with waltzing cars, goofy dialogue(Wait, Robert Towne was involved?), and some seriously silly multi-camera slow-motion martial arts moves. It's Cruise at his most self-conscious, and as juvenile as the series could possibly be. It's a reminder of an era this Kaijyu has no interest in revisiting, save for the final 25 minutes that are both breathtaking in technique, but laughable in context.

Mission Impossible 3 (2006)

After the perplexing success of MI:2, and the subsequent backlash that resulted, moves were under way to make the third entry something far more urgent and emotional. Enter newbie filmmaker, J.J. Abrams, who brings with him his larger than life television persona to the big screen, and comes out swinging. Ramping up the ridiculousness (Ethan falls in love, attempts to live a double life), somehow, this first round via the Bad Robot team, takes the bombastic Michael Bay approach, and grants the series an emotional pull that propels this into some seriously hectic places. Never not moving, and uncompromisingly dark for a PG-13 film, Abrams and Cruise fashion something that is far more personal than the previous films, and posits a formula that would come to solidify the series from this point going forward. No matter how one feels about Abrams, or his since then well-established form of pop cinema, MI:3 is rough and tumble fun only made more potent by having Philip Seymour Hoffman as your frightening antagonist. Pre-Dark Knight, it made a great case against post 911 policy with a little added burn to spare. And unlike the previous, there is a sense that a more colorful spirit is entering the mix, one that is less about our star, and more about the world he inhabits.

Always a plus.

 Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol (2011)

Four films in, and Cruise and Co. finally strike gold. Three films later, and with the addition of animation genius, Brad Bird, the Bad Robot crew live up to their promise with one wild ride. From a Russian prison break, to infiltrating the Kremlin, to scaling the Burj Khalifa building, to the insane finale in Mumbai, this is classic MI adventure territory here made with almost mathematical care for geography, character, and action. As Ethan finally settles into what becomes an all-new IMF team (featuring welcome additions, Simon Pegg, Paula Patton,  & Jeremy Renner), their existence could not be in greater danger as catastrophic events have rendered the IMF completely disavowed, forcing Hunt and cohorts to scale the world, clear their names, and save the world from nuclear devastation. Still true to the series' more over the top worldview, the Bad Robot approach serves the whole with class and energy. On top of this, Cruise at last feels confident enough to relinquish the reins to an instantly appealing group of characters ready to share the spotlight. It finally feels like the television series on a grand scale, complete with clever fake-outs, wild stuntwork, and crowd-pleasing humor.

Mission Impossible: Rogue Nation (2015)

Intense to think that this has been going on for nearly two decades, and sees no signs of slowing. Cruise, now with his third collaboration with writer/director Chris McQuarrie (Jack Reacher, Edge Of Tomorrow) finds himself and the franchise wisening like a solid oak. Rogue Nation, while taking a charming look back at the entire series before it, also feels like a proud, experienced veteran, ready to accept age as consequence. In this one, Ethan and what remains of the entire IMF (meaning him and fellow agents) after being quashed by the US government, are forced to contend with their most cunning adversary, a supposedly nonexistent army of once powerful spies bent on destroying the infrastructure from the inside; the IMF's mirror opposite. Not ready to turn in the gear for good, Cruise and company run across a mysteriously solid agent in Rebecca Ferguson, are being dogged by a more than over it CIA head, Alec Baldwin, and troubled by a frighteningly cold Sean Harris. It's a refreshing, ultimately satisfying hybrid of action spectacle, and old fashioned spy yarn of a previous era.

It's so happily old school, that the whole feels just as thrillers once did, granting the audience enough room to breathe before the biggest surprises, which weren't geared toward screaming in our ears. There are also some great hidden easter eggs celebrating the previous films strewn throughout. It's amazing to see such a series turn such a corner, and welcome something more akin to a giddy airport novel, complete with quiet exchanges, dark alleys, and some brutal close-quarters combat. It's as mature as a series like this could be without losing the initial concept's more fun loving spirit. With this film, Cruise and company seem to be acknowledging the ups and downs that have led us here, and it's done with a kind of panache and adventurousness that only comes with growing up. Much like his film equivalent, Cruise is ready for facing insurmountable obstacles, but he sure as hell could not do it alone.

So great to see that revelation expressed with such elegance in what could so easily have ignored it.       

Jupiter Ascending (2014) Movie Thoughts

Time can be your greatest antagonist. Just ask the villains of the Wachowskis massive space soap. Or better yet, bring it up to the filmmakers themselves who seem to have found themselves in a dungeon of their own creativity. It's hard to sum up just what happened here outside of overdosing on your own production Kool-Aid.  But despite the incredible production on display in one of the most adventurous takes on filmed fantasy ever attempted, Jupiter Ascending faceplants due to an almost criminal lack of humanity. Upon first reports of delays (the film was initially set to be released July of last year), and occasional mumblings about reshoots and edits, concerns were undoubtedly arising. But to see what has happened, one can see plenty of blame to go around. Falling onto parties both the filmmakers and studio, who felt need to rein everything in, only to create a space epic that feels like space itself; vast, empty, and beautiful to look at. And despite it's thematic targets, the film ends up doubling back on its convictions, making for one of the more unfocused and awkward class struggle narratives to be unveiled in quite some time.

Born into a large russian family, and stuck cleaning toilets for often rich clients, Jupiter Jones bemoans her life and wishes to find her one true love. Meanwhile, a part-human, part canine spliced hunter known as Caine Wise is on Earth with orders to find and retrieve Jones. Unbeknownst to her, royalty flows through her veins as she is the reconstruct of a long lost matriarch of a powerful galactic corporation that is now split between three heirs. Siblings who are quietly squabbling over who gets dibs on earthbound humans as property/resource. Wise and Jones are now on the run from space bounty hunters, beasts, and all manner of alien being as the truth of her past self comes clear. Now with all that has been described, it could be easy to portray this as some contemporary fairy tale, complete with ability to reach out to younger audiences. And yet somehow, Lana & Andy Wachowski find themselves unable to find the connective tissue between premise, and their own predilections. It ends up being little more than a jumbled case of overindulgence. Especially funny as the film wants so badly to be seen as a treatise on objectivism, hegemonic entitlement, and mindless consumption.

And the trade-off here, is perhaps one of if not the most opulent examples of visualized space fantasy one is likely to ever see in a generation. Featuring some incredible starship imagery, over the top costume designs, not to mention alien species that harken to the best of Star Wars. True to the Wachowski brand, it also features some groundbreaking action, most notably with Caine Wise's "sky surfing" gravity boot work. There is an early action scene here on par with anything the pair has done since 1999, with a little Speed Racer in here for good measure. It even goes so far as to wander into Brazil territory at one point (complete with a Terry Gilliam cameo), where it indulges yet again. It's as up front about its wishes as a major production can possibly be. The problems here being that we also have a story and pressing themes that require a little love, which sadly go underserved.

The entire piece feels overcooked in the production, with the soul buried somewhere beneath all the flavor. It's only made stranger by an edit that screams compromise. Scenes build upon scenes that never happened. We're forced along as if producers saw the overindulgence, and aimed to squelch it anywhere they could. So we never get a full idea of who these characters are, and what they serve in the larger whole. It's a frustrating thing to be enveloped in such a rich, potential-laden fantasy world, unable to feel any way about it except for admiration at its ambition. Films like Dune, Legend, and Tron come to mind. Large scale productions that seem largely about indulging the impulses, but lack the ability to let us in and care about any of it.

Now taking the "destiny" angle, the element that for better or worse in the past, into more "feminine" territory could have made for an interesting new bent to an already familiar theme. While the trope  worked to almost classic effect in The Matrix, Jupiter never aspires to be anything more than a Cinderella fairy tale without a heroine worth rooting for.When one really thinks it all through, this at its base feels like the seed of a lot of bad ideas which came as result. To assume that the old saw would connect to an audience weaned on old world ideas about dreaming about how the other half lives, feels not only half-thought, it also feels a little cheap. One might have to look back at older films where young girls were the untrodden territory. Where treading into almost stereotypical waters in hopes of connecting made for some uncomfortable lessons in reality. Have we learned nothing from the days of Supergirl, and the hamfisted need for the central character to need a man? Or better yet, a need to have the character fly over some ponies? There is something painfully wrong about assuming that the Cinderella seed could work well in an overwrought tale of characters eager to maintain profit in hopes of grasping eternal life. To make matters worse, this is a film where the so-called "destined one", never makes any real change from hapless housekeeper to a self-reliant leader. It never happens. And no, wielding a metal pipe over a villain is not a viable euphemism for power. 

That's right; the biggest tragedy of the film is that we never get a full idea of who Jupiter Jones is. Outside of her flailing about, and quipping about going home, Kunis never even registers as a character. Without this simple throughline, we are merely host to all the weirdness surrounding her, unable to connect. It's bad enough that the Wachowskis often troublesome tendency for racial caricature wreaks havoc here albeit unintentionally(one would hope), but her situation never gathers enough grit to make the audience connect to her before all the madness begins. Her choices often ring false, and never seem to be of her own. In fact, she is rescued far more often than she ever takes any matters into her own hands. We never see the shift from victim to hero which is what tales like these are all about. And if this was meant to be a subversion of these tropes, it certainly does a lot to. In fact, by the finale it becomes more of a "both rich and poor are equally miserable" parable, which does nothing to challenge the status quo save for implying that it will be the immigrants of the world who will inherit. While there may be some nodding to such a notion, it feels far too slow, too late to even say it. A message far too dated to jibe with.

Of the people who do come out of this debacle unscathed, it is the always  reliable Tatum as Caine, who makes for an interesting hero in a film where he needed to be counterbalanced. His almost feral sense of self and nobility makes him an inviting doorway to other parts of the film's worldbuilding. Also surviving by a thread, is the inimitable Sean Bean, who's Stinger has plenty of weariness to add gravitas. Again, a serious loss to the final film's compressed state. His circumstances are never followed up to any satisfying degree, leaving his performance to be a welcome but handicapped one. Both of their subplots make for a far more interesting story than the one they are saddled with, and that's an issue that never finds a way to ease off.

Hiding throughout the muddle we have here are musings about family, and the need to perpetuate expansion in the need for shared survival at the expense of life itself. The Abrasax siblings who are the film's puppet masters find themselves ranging from prime YA stock, to outright camp. Tuppence Middleton and Douglas Booth turn in what feel like a perfect facsimile for characters one would see in a Twilight or Hunger Games, while Eddie Redmayne's incredible performance as the psychotic Balem echoes Sting's Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. From droning whispers to a frightening yelp, this is characterization that could only make a mark in midnight movie screenings. It was as if he was in on the mess the filmmakers where creating, and was unwilling to play it any other way. All three make for the bulk of the film's actual agency being liars, schemers, and murderers, and yet they too are underserved as little more than mouthpieces for ideological dogma. When Middleton's Kalique asks for advice on the nature of trust, she is reminded to feel that humans only act in the service of rationalized self-interest. The philosophies of these characters are meant to be mirrored in the more selfish acts of Jones' family, asking to participate in a fertility clinic scheme. Ascending reaches for some understanding between haves and have-nots, but never feels less than forced.

What to make of all this? Again, the blame for this fracas can be laid at the feet of so many involved. And yet here it is, fully bankrolled and released for all to see. A classic example of what can happen when artists have too much, and find themselves drowning in the excess they pretend to decry. When Speed Racer happened, this was suspect, but at least we had the Racer family standing up as a relatable every family. When the heroes here find themselves bereft of any such vicarious metrics, all we get is a character being dragged from set piece to set piece, and us feeling more and more confused to the point of apathy. It's a real shame. This is gorgeous stuff. The last thing we should be feeling about such a buffet..is emptiness.  

Why We Never Needed The Interview

And so the holiday weekend comes to a close, and I am still not sure who the much debated Rogen/Franco comedy vehicle, The Interview was ultimately made for. While I found myself indirectly swept up into the controversy surrounding the film in the weeks pre-release, a part of me was probably akin to so many others, only curious on some minute, morbid level. And after having seen it, the word "sucker" does come to mind, even if evidence has been abundantly clear that the devastating attack on Sony Studios' servers was a very real thing. Suspicion notwithstanding, what the world stage has witnessed yet again via this film, is that there is no accounting for ego, nor taste when regarding any kind of comedy. And what I witnessed via the near two-hours of excruciating dearth of laughs, was that pandering is indeed alive and well. And that no amount of marketing and bad press can wash away cheap, myopic art.

There is a part of me that is now morbidly curious about how studios like Sony intend to survive into an already uncertain future for film when their green lights tend to lean on the cheapness of their bottom line. This is a film that starts in one place, flirts with change, only to swing right back to where it begins. It's bad enough that we are host to a story where noone actually learns anything, but that the so-called complication turns out to be exactly as advertised, rendering the whole affair meaningless. If this is what it takes to get the public on board with your films, I suppose its clear that management has virtually no faith left in the viewer to chart new courses.

Is it a complete suckers game though? I mean, one should consider not merely North Korea in regards to an aggressively changing world. There is certainly room for it. This just feels like a dated, underthought, and overall cheap means of milking that issue in an era where one might see this approach to be a little..dated. Something smarter could have been composed here. But Rogen and Evan Goldberg, took the easy road, and cranked out something both regressive, and ultimately underwhelming. It's a real shame considering Randall Park, and Diana Bang in the film. They deserve much better considering their work in this. Which brings full circle that the film feels like a rush job that only serves its stars, and much less the world at large. Much like the campaign, the whole thing feels cheap in a way only comedic superstars could conjure with their desperate attempts to feel topical, and their combined egoes squatting out half-baked product. Their Adam Sandler fate, at least to me, feels complete.


There's truly nothing new, let alone interesting here. Move along.

INTERSTELLAR (2014) Movie Thoughts

Ambition has it limits..

Echoing about in my mind as the final moments of Christopher Nolan's great attempt at a stylistic crossroads. Highly anticipated as a grand scale space drama set as the Earth seems set to close the curtain on humanity, INTERSTELLAR, is an epic fraught with balancing new frontiers of the celebrated director and the clearly human heartbeats intended for its original captain. Initially designed as a project for Steven Spielberg, what results from this much-touted hand-off, is a clear case of great talent/potentially wrong footwear. Despite all the technical mastery at work throughout the film's sprawling 169 minutes, it becomes easy to see the divide between the often sentimental Hollywood giant, and the cold, calculating new king.

Matthew McConaughey, is former expert pilot and engineer, Cooper, who discovers a secret mission to save humanity as unprecedented blight seeks to end all human life on Earth. In a time when corn is all that remains as a viable crop, and the Apollo moon landing is taught to have been a hoax, Cooper's dreams for the lives of his young son, and particularly curious and headstrong daughter, Murphy, are largely being rerouted toward agrarian lifestyles. So when the single father and kids run across clues leading to NASA's clandestine and clearly dangerous mission, Cooper is seen as the last viable candidate to pilot the long distance ship, the Endurance. The goal: to traverse the gap in spacetime in hopes of finding a habitable world for what remains of the quickly dying human race. Based upon the work of elder scientists, including old friend, Professor Brand (Michael Caine), the small crew which includes his daughter, Amelia Brand(Anne Hathaway), Romilly(David Gyasi), Doyle (Wes Bentley), and geometrically fascinating military robot, TARS (Bill Irwin) launch for one last gamble.

And while a great deal of the film offers up sumptuous and occasionally chilling detail regarding space travel, and alien environs, Nolan (and his brother/collaborator Jonathan) finds himself occasionally sidetracked by familiar fetishes. And while this can be expected of many great filmmakers, there are times when it simply doesn't gel with the larger whole. A problem that often dogged their last film, the obligatory, Dark Knight Rises (2012). Beginning with a mostly strong first third on Earth, the film soon hits rocky places once the often enticing talk of hard science runs headlong with the emotional core. As witnessed in past works like INCEPTION(2010), there is an almost reflexive queasiness that creeps in as the debate between theory and emotion are meant to collide. It seems to be the film's main thrust and yet both ends of the equation never seem to gather enough steam upon one another as equal combatants. Nolan's films are often meticulous exercises of conflicting ideas, and yet this time they seem unwilling to play ball as hard as previous films have displayed.

So when looking back at the film's initial existence as a Spielberg project, it's pretty easy to see where this could have all gone. But once it comes our way, the need for tangential storytelling rears its overwrought head, often sabotaging some truly graceful moments. There are stretches here that are simply daunting to contemplate being in the hands of just about any high grade auteur. From often jaw-pulling zero gravity sequences, to some utterly beautiful visions of alien worlds, there is much to behold in terms of cinematic majesty. However, this often comes apart at the hands of a script that seems hellbent on second-guessing itself. The most egregious example taking place in the final third of the film, where an uncredited starring role seeks to circumvent the mission, leading to an episode that feels completely under thought and unnecessary. It simply comes out of nowhere, almost taking the wind out of whatever sails the story was flying with.

As to whether or not this move is completely fatal to the piece may vary from one viewer to another. But considering the inspired finale, all that is left is a feeling like the waterworks have simply found themselves parched. There's no reason why this should have been the end result. And one cannot help but feel like the previous false note is largely to blame. If one is to play a film like a puzzle, every piece needs to count, and this mistake feels like a poorly cut centerpiece to an otherwise serviceable bastion of questions.

And it's a real shame too, because the cast truly brings their A-game to the proceedings. Especially McConaughey, who's gravely earnestness and vitality makes for a potent lead. Hathaway does exceptional work where she can, as does Jessica Chastain, who both feel underserved as actual characters and more like many Nolan females; as merely symbols. Also worthy of note, is Bill Irwin's voice performance as former marine robot, TARS, who is an occasionally strong counterpoint to classic spacefaring AI such as HAL 9000.

But where the film really fails to connect, is in how it maintains the core relationship between Cooper and his daughter. It's clearly something someone like Spielberg could do blindfolded, and yet Nolan breaks out the emotional big guns, and never seems to hit as hard as he does early on. The piece finds itself far more interested in debates regarding quantum theory, and openly discussing the theme rather than showing us the theme in action. While that might have worked in INCEPTION, it simply will not do with such a pared-down, more family-centric story. The fit between director and material never seems congruent, and it hurts more than hinders in sections. It's like a dancer sporting cleats, the end result is often a graceless affair.

So in all, INTERSTELLAR boasts sights and sounds never experienced in a grand space odyssey, but it rarely reaches beyond its own need to sidetrack or obsess. There are occasionally beautiful moments and ideas at play as we see and hear things we could only sum up in our wildest dreams. It's just too bad they often can't get past the pitching stage. Interstellar, for all it's yearning for the grand and intimate, intermittently sputters when it should soar.     

Dawn Of The Planet Of The Apes (2014) Is Genre At Its Most Important

Division between background and culture. Belief in the ability to overcome such division. The myth of the known other.  Our lesser selves, desperate for simple answers. The allure of technological solutions at the cost of fellow beings. Future generations physically and philosophically hanging in the balance. An abyss that threatens all when gravity becomes far too much to withstand.  We see this on every news source, every third or fourth tweet, hear about it through friends and family. A seemingly endless wave of hate, coupled with escalation by way of ever advancing death machines. These are at the heart of this weekend's big theatrical release, and I am still reeling from its effects.


Time for a big admission: Despite the surprise love many have for Rupert Wyatt's Rise Of The Planet Of The Apes (2011), I still find it to be a competent, but often hobbled first entry in this new generation of installments to the classic franchise. While it does so much to remove the distaste experienced while viewing the much lesser Tim Burton retelling of 2001, it often feels constructed by committee, and suffers from some of the more egregious cases of fan pandering imaginable. The shining success of Rise, comes from the character work, especially in Andy Serkis's portrayal of future ape icon, Caesar. Watching him grow from lab chimp, to family member, to leader of a simian revolution was a marked improvement. And one that connected well enough to start the tale from a perfectly understandable place of kinship between hyper-intelligent apes, and the humankind which will inevitably tilt over in monkey favor. Gripes of annoying wall to wall references aside, Rise remains a surprising prequel with enough dramatic groundwork for an even greater story.


Enter Dawn Of The Planet Of The Apes.


Ten years after the events of Rise, Caesar and his surviving society of apes have now nestled deep into the woods overlooking San Francisco, and have created a functioning civilization far from what remains of humanity after the so-called "Simian Flu"(the human-made ALZ-113) all but wipes them out completely. Catching up with Caesar and his people, we are introduced to them during a hunting party, seeking food when it becomes clear that his leadership has become a foundation upon which all apes could co-exist. "Ape Not Kill Ape" In fact, when Caesar is asked about his feelings on his human upbringing, he claims to miss them from time to time, but feels that they are but a memory. Humans have become a footnote in their history. That is, until Caesar's son, Blue Eyes and his friend Ash (son of the first film's Rocket) are found by a small group of humans near the foot of their mountain. A shot rings out, and certainty is blasted away, as it comes to light that the remaining survivors of the Simian Flu apocalypse are in fact living within the ruins of the city, armed, and afraid.

Led by a once family man named Dreyfus (Gary Oldman), the remnants of SF humans are tattered, strained, and desperate. Low on gas powered energy, and portable tech, Dreyfus and company seek to reach the local dam in the hills in hopes of making contact with any remaining human outposts. Naturally, the ape society is situated perfectly between these two points of life. The mentioned gunfire comes from the hand of Carver(Kirk Acevedo), one of many ready to draw a gun at what he sees to be the source of his life's misery. He is not alone, as we learn that many in the human compound, including Dreyfus, see apes as the very cause of all that has befallen humankind. A shared lack of faith leads some toward a violent resolution should the apes not wish for human intervention within their young world in the mountains. Not all in the initial group encounter are as terrified of the almost speech-capable ape society. Malcolm (Jason Clarke) and a few others see the apes as special, and likely capable of reason. So when Caesar sees reason to quell the tension among his own, the sentiment of fear lives on in the form of Koba, a bonobo, who in the first film displayed scars of years of mistreatment at the hands of human scientists. It is in this ingrained tension between both species that drives Dawn toward something far more prescient than a mere AVATAR-esque tale of moral oversimplification.


The addition of Matt Reeves into the Apes fold, is an inspired, and proven choice here as his work with a script by Rise's Rick Jaffa and Amanda Silver (rewrites by Mark Bomback) harkens to the best moments from the original, with a sense of clarity that is deeply modern and affecting. The initial half hour is extraordinarily unlike typical blockbuster fare, and is so patient with character work, that it becomes far more exciting to know where each one is coming from by merely observing mannerisms. Confident mastery of visuals, performance, score (Michael Giacchino at his understated best)and an incredible sense of dread seeps through every pore of the setup, making it one of the more distressingly beautiful ones ever executed. We fully know who everyone is, we know the stakes, and we know..that none of this can end well.



As hinted at, Dawn also takes an almost Dark Knight route and surpasses it, in that it never lets either side off the hook. For all of Caesar's passion for understanding between ape and human, there is much for him to still learn as apes like Koba cannot see past humanity's terrible tendencies. And for Malcolm and his family, a need to see their faith through whereas Dreyfus and Carver see only a threat. Paradoxes inherent in both camps, only made worse by the revelation that the human compound is carrying within it an armory capable of all out war. The trust of an open hand versus the swift justice of an automatic rifle. The film is far more concerned with the nature of humankind versus its own fears. It even goes so far as to explore what happens when the words of peace can be reappropriated in the name of conflict. How easily we forget. And how easily we can so easily write off the other in the name of returning to a life lived in blissful ignorance of others. As if that ever guaranteed lasting inner peace. Much like how superhero works like X-Men attempt to evoke mental imagery of classic schisms such as those between Malcolm X and Dr. Martin Luther King, we finally have a big budget film willing to more clearly explore the allure of violent retribution over a long road to peace.

A push button solution. A trigger for happiness.

We can talk here about how impressively constructed a great deal of this really is. How magnificent the imagery plunges its ways into the mind long after viewing the film. How astounding the apes are, and how beautiful their fur reacts to natural phenomenon. How both Andy Serkis and Tony Kebbell(Koba), with the help of WETA, and various artists convey the best and worst in us in ways that even most human acting fails to encompass. How our kids are often trapped,and occasionally cursed by the prejudices and fears of our parents. How the inevitable battle between human and ape is the stuff of nightmares. How the film offers up the best parable for conflicts that are happening miles away from us as media outlets often take merely one side, never considering that both to all sides truly want similar things. This is a blockbuster with a greater deal on its mind than most, and it expresses them with conviction and clarity we simply don't get in many places outside of literature.

It has been years since a studio release did this to me, and I cannot wait to experience it again. Dawn Of The Planet Of The Apes, is that rare example of what big genre film is capable of being. It is a modern allegory of often shattering impact, and I cannot recommend it more.

Edge Of Tomorrow (2014): Movie Thoughts

As humanity takes its final breaths after a devastating alien invasion, military PR officer, Lt. Col. Bill Cage(Tom Cruise), is summoned by high command and ordered to join the front lines of a massive final assault. Completely green in the realm of combat, Cage’s protests are countermanded, as he is knocked unconscious and dropped off where the united military forces prepare for the anticipated Operation Downfall near Verdun. And despite his unending wishes to avoid service if he has to, a sneak attack on the human forces sends Cage and fellow soldiers into what looks like a clear pre-emptive slaughter. Upon the hellish battlefield, it is here that Cage’s encounter with the fearsome MIMIC entities leaves him dead..Only for him to awaken back at the drop off spot, merely hours before. In a bizarre twist, his day has reset, and seems to do so every time he is killed. Seeing the advantages to this potentially nightmarish predicament, it is here that he runs into celebrated war hero, Rita Vratatski ( “The Angel Of Verdun”, played to perfection by Emily Blunt), who apparently is familiar with this phenomenon. Together, this shared knowledge is put to the ultimate test as the alien ability to “reset” time is now in Cage’s hands, but the MIMICs are never to be underestimated.

Based on the 2004 light novel by Hiroshi Sakurazaka, and the subsequent manga, the puzzlingly retitled, Edge Of Tomorrow is easily one of the better J-media adaptations imaginable. Taking a cue from the original book, and dismantling the often typical otaku archetypes and attitudes, and keeping the speculative wackiness of the universe makes for an effective retooling. For the typical “kill ‘em all” storylines in military action films of the past, it’s refreshing to see a fantasy take on it with such humor and energy. Doug Liman, working with an often thin, but personality-riddled script by Christopher McQuarrie, Jez & John-Henry Butterworth, creates the ultimate in-video game experience, complete with just enough gravity and laughs to keep it fun throughout. Embodying the action game scheme by way of a Vonnegut meets Grimwood meets Groundhog Day manner, where characters relive the same day, only to exploit this as a means of tactical advancement.

The catch here being that death is the only trigger for a new life.

Which makes for the film’s most sadistically funny conceit; we get to see Tom Cruise die an absurd number of times attempting to turn the tide of this most dire 24 hours! And considering years of the media, and subsequent public disdain for the Hollywood legend, there is an audience who is ready and willing to partake in such a twisted idea. Thankfully, so is Cruise, who delivers one of his most infectiously fun performances in an action film, ever. He’s so ready to throw himself into proceedings, that it almost feels masochistic at points. But this is well earned, as the character of Cage starts out as your classic combat dodging mannequin, stopping at nothing to ditch active duty, even going so far as to blackmailing his commanding officer played by the ever wonderful Brendan Gleeson. Starting at this particular compass point, Cruise’s arc involves him growing more and more acquainted with faces on the field (including a still bug hunting, Bill Paxton in top form), as well as a concept of sacrifice. Which leads us to the biggest surprise of all..

This technically isn’t even a Tom Cruise vehicle..

Enter Rita Vratatski, the woman who’s surprise victory over the MIMIC menace led to the proliferation of the military’s exoskeleton project, and is hailed as an almost mythic war hero. Emily Blunt’s rendition of the character is one that not only aces the original book’s, but becomes a thrilling touchpoint for big budget action cinema. Where Cruise plays something of a central role throughout the film, it is ultimately Blunt’s presence that heralds something to the effect of a torch passing. A character with only the mission, and fragments of a past that she guards quite closely makes for a refreshing business lead. She knows how the “game” works, and is entrusting her fate to a man who must only help her by way of dying repeatedly for the sake of self-improvement. But when she can fight, its a raw exhibition of dedication and poise. Even better, she is not idealized in any classic manner of otaku fetishism. While we may have experienced a number of action heroes who happen to be female in the past, the idea that this is not only a non-issue, but one whom a once vaunted action star would defer to in a most sincere sense, is significant. Cruise, is very much the sidekick!

Soon into the midsection of the film, it becomes implied that there are far more renditions of this day that are not shown, leaving us to play along as Cage and Vratatski attempt to outwit fate time and again. If any flaws begin to invade the story, this is where it happens. Even so, it almost seems to be parodying what we expect from big action films, and having a blast while doing it. The loop storyline becomes a kind of window for us to better understand not only how the war could be won, but also of our leads who couldn’t be from greater divisions. Where the film begins to flirt with the implications of their unique moral places, is also where it flags a bit until the shaky finale. We never get a full exploration of their changing worldviews by way of this bizarre situation, and as such, the film must be taken as more a ride than anything else. After all, we are talking more of video games of a previous generation than of the way they are slowly beginning to spider in complexity and moral quandary. But where it does make up for all of this, is in humor and action, which bursts out in torrents. The battle sequences are striking, and the MIMIC creatures are things of  an almost drug-addled beauty.

In summation, Edge Of Tomorrow is easily one of the year’s biggest genre surprises. Far from the typical Tom Cruise action fare, this is perhaps the best of its kind, and easily Liman's best in over a decade. And it is sure to reward upon repeat viewings. As for the implications of war spin doctors being forced into fighting wars alongside those who actually volunteered for service, one could certainly do worse. But perhaps in conflicts post WWII, all we have been doing, has been retooling ourselves into further understanding the future. There are some mild jabs of this nature happening throughout, but it never comes to any major fruition. Which is to say relax, unwind, suit up, and get ready to watch Tom Cruise live out the NES Ninja Gaiden campaign of your dreams.

All the dying, none of the controller-gnawing after effects.

X-Men: Days Of Future Past (2014) Is Numerous Layers Of Attempted Undoing

In a desolate future where all that remain of average humans and mutants are on the losing end of a horrific war versus a machine enemy, the final battle will be decided by way of time travel. With the last remnants of mutated humans fighting the same final stand time and again due to Kitty Pryde(Ellen Page)'s ability to send minds back a few minutes before the same assault annihilates them all. It is here that the finally re-allied pairing of Charles Xavier(Patrick Stewart) and Erik Lehnsherr (Sir Ian McKellen) posit that the only chance at averting this dire outcome, is by sending someone far earlier, to 1973. A time when one single event undertaken by a fellow mutant, sets the entire Sentinel apocalypse in motion. The catch? The only mutant left that could possibly handle such an intense trip back into his younger body, is the ever volatile Logan (Hugh Jackman).


It takes an often absurd amount of effort to undo the past, but what about a past series of wayward films nearly a decade in the maintaining? This question penetrates beyond the mere plot of Bryan Singer's directorial return to the long-troubled X-Men film franchise in what is one of the more unusual cases of course correction I have ever witnessed. Taking on the classic time travel story originally published in 1981, elder cast meets young in a tale of redemption spanning several decades as the rift between humans and mutants reaches apocalyptic proportion. Again, it is no mean feat to undo a few simple choices made nearly ten years ago, but Singer and company give it a daring go at it (to marginally successful results).


Even more than an ambitious journey for a filmmaker with numerous levels of past deeds to be undone, DoFP features one of the more challenging storylines of the franchise. And as such, does a mostly effective job of juggling character and story. The lynchpins of the tale being that of the now-fractured relationship of past Charles and Erik (James McAvoy and a still riveting as iron, Michael Fassbender) now at its most strained since the aftermath of the events of First Class. With the two old friends turned rivals over their philosophies leaves Erik imprisoned deep beneath the Pentagon, and Charles, now a drug-addicted recluse, Logan's mission to inform them of future events makes for a great deal of the film's juice. The need for both old friends to rejoin forces in the name of stopping someone very close to them from killing the man responsible for setting events in motion. The man in question, being noted scientist, Bolivar Trask(Peter Dinklage). The man who will implement the Sentinel program, an army of humanoid machines capable of identifying and destroying mutants with frightening accuracy. But once the mission is well in motion, it becomes quite clear that even more than events that can be altered, it is in tattered bonds between mutants that might prove to be the most difficult to sway. Especially when it is the strained heart of Mystique/Raven(Jennifer Lawrence).


Course correction might be at the heart of the piece, but as a time travel piece, it is far more interested in what truly drives the series; character drama, and social concern. And while the film at times finds itself a little bogged down by an already overwhelmed cast, it at times feels uneven in tone, and unable to center its emotional drive where it needs it most. What we get in terms of the soap operatics lies mostly between MacAvoy and Fassbender, who again deliver some of the series' best work. And once again, there is great use of the ever reliable Jackman as a beast-man, ever at odds with his own nature in a situation that could completely derail at his expense. And while a great deal of the film makes good with this within the first hour, it also finds itself relatively lost in a cacophony of twists and specious cartoon logic that almost threatens to undo the remaining running time. An underlying concern for the unspoken for veterans in wars of the past rings its head numerous times as a new thematic wrinkle. Sadly, this angle finds itself underutilized, even as a majority of the film is set amidst the Vietnam conflict.


 One element here that almost cripples a lot of the film's aims to be one of global and temporal scale, is an often excessive sense of stylized history, occasionally flirting with pure camp. One could almost argue that this is an effect of the previous films taking on a number of bizarre shifts over the years. What DoFP does in a very interesting way, is pay lip service to the series as a whole, and attempt to override all the troubles that have dogged the series, perhaps since the original 2000 debut. Having come through years of self-conscious comic book adaptations, this is also a fully "out" rendition of the X-Men films. In a post-Avengers world, it's hard not to look back and see just how panicked the studio must have been about presenting such larger than life characters to the screen. It took a decade and a half to reach where we are today, and with our characters desperately seeking a way to undo the mistakes of the past, we are at last able to see a more embracing vision of the universe.


The one place that I couldn't reconcile with the film, sadly is with the lack of feminine characterization. It's difficult enough to buy the wobbly logic of sending Logan in the stead of Pryde who was the story's original time traveler back to the past. But to not grant us enough insight into the mind of Mystique, who's entire agency in the story makes for the film's most important internal conflict is more than a missed opportunity, it's an almost fatal omission. Lawrence milks her role for all that its worth, but a little more on why she is so driven to commit her world-altering act would have done the film a great emotional service. Considering the best X-films contained with them a special feminine power integral to the spirit of the piece, it is sadly diminished here.


So in all, Singer's return to the franchise that made him into something of a divisive figure in fantasy filmdom is both a welcome and overburdened success. While it in no way undoes years of bad ideas, it does make for a sweet and occasionally thrilling apology. The world of the cinematic X-universe has been largely a dysfunctional one. It's with a surprised heart to express that for all its issues, Days Of Future Past carries with it a weight that helped bring the era of the superhero to fruition. Still a shame that this return to form came in the visage of a boys club reunion.

Oh, and the movie world's grander introduction to P. Maximoff, also known as Quicksilver(Evan Peters)? Possibly the film's biggest, happiest surprise.

Gareth Edwards' Godzilla (2014) Is Crushingly Average

Will it ever be enough?

The question that rang through my mind thirty minutes into Legendary Pictures' grand leap into the world of classic kaiju. Edwards' first major studio release, featuring TOHO's grand reptile winds up being less a narrative on our current world, and rather indicative of a studio system hobbled by legacy. This is in no way out to belittle what indeed appears onscreen, but for a piece designed to reintroduce the King Of The Monsters to a new generation, it does very little to impress beyond mild expectations. Worse yet, it plays as a half-baked allegory for more recent events in a way that never comes to any fruition. Outside of focusing on by-the-numbers, personality-deficient americans, the film never finds itself out of second gear. While it is much closer in aim to the G films of decades past, the end result is the equivalent of tasting a bottle of the most expensive water imaginable, and being unable to distinguish it from tap.


Beginning in 1999, a Japanese nuclear plant's US supervisor (Bryan Cranston) becomes a widower after strange seismic activity seems to herald a disaster, rendering what remains of the facility and the surrounding plant town as quarantined. Meanwhile, somewhere in the Philippines, a research team led by Professor Serizawa(Ken Watanabe) have just stumbled upon an unearthed and fossilized giant skeleton, along with a pair of massive egg pods(with one freshly opened). In the years after the incident, Joseph Brody(Cranston) has become something of an obsessed man, convinced that the public story regarding the plant incident is pure cover for something else. Having just recently been arrested back in Japan near the quarantine zone, Brody's now grown son, Ford (now an explosive ordinance disposal expert in the US Navy, played by Aaron Taylor-Johnson) is tasked with heading overseas to retrieve him. Only daddy Brody's ravings about a cover-up turn out to be true, and something horrific and HUGE is being watched over at the old nuclear facility grounds. It is here, that both parties are brought together due to a now unstoppable threat to humankind.


And perhaps there is only one force of nature capable of ending the terror.


So, yes..Despite the ad campaign that front-loaded often harrowing scenes of destruction and even human casualties, this is more a collective homage to fifty years of TOHO's once-great-nightmare-turned signature superhero. And perhaps it needs to be said up front that for all that will be typed here regarding the film, it is also great leaps beyond the 1998 Roland Emmerich film. Without resorting to nearly as much disinterest in the source material as that film, what remains is something more akin to playing the needle perhaps a little louder than necessary. The groove Edwards' finds himself in, is largely due to both Max Borenstein's underwhelming script, and his own inability to lend the film a sense of dramatic pacing. (This is not the first time. His previous, the indie surprise, MONSTERS, suffers from falling into a comfort zone with characterization, not playing enough with the elements at hand.)  Everything that seems to happen onscreen is often borne out of utility rather than by character, and as such we spend too much time coasting through the film. And even though the story goes out of its way to build up toward our first look at Gojira in all his glory, the impact is largely diminished due to a severe lack of dramatic tension. Matters just happen, and this happens with great efficiency throughout.


Also not delivered as advertised, is the performance of Cranston who ends up merely being a story leaping point, rather than the central character. His casting almost feels stunt-y considering what we're left with. Taylor-Johnson is never given any real meat as the young Brody. And his family is granted even less. With Elizabeth Olsen as Elle, Ford's doctor wife, and Carson Bolde as his young son, we are merely given the semblance of a contemporary family caught in the middle of this avalanching crisis. One could argue that many a human character in a Godzilla film has been perfunctory to the monster on monster action, but to see these characters be less than simple ciphers in such a large production is a little disheartening. It even goes so far as to make the entire affair feel small, and lacking in any sense of real awe.


Think of it. A Godzilla film of this size and potential magnitude, it barely registers.


On the surface, Edwards' piece does dish out some terrific images, and the final battle royale between King G and the insectoid MUTO creatures is fun on an artistic level. Alexandre Dusplat's effective orchestral score is relatively memorable. But for all the talk of this being a Godzilla piece with greater emphasis on the humans at ground level, it all rings terribly distant and hollow. This was a golden opportunity to make a film equivalent to the original Ishiro Honda classic. An environmental horror tale. An emotionally stirring hymn to civilization's hubris in the face of nature, delivered with heartfelt potency. A chance to place us at the heart of a truly difficult dilemma concerning the fate of the world, and science's role in it. But all we get is a middle of the road redux, lacking in horror, character, or even fun. If there is anything thematic to glean from all of this, is that the piece lands on the idea that nature settles its own issues. Problems arise when we are never given enough illustration of this point, nor enough evidence aside from the expected destruction to back up this mode of thinking. Even Watanabe's portrayal of Serizawa is never given enough coverage for us to see his ideas as having any kind of greater merit. While the surface is at times captivating, there seems to be very little percolation beneath it.


About the only genuine response evoked by the film (outside of the occasional cheer for our hero) was during a gag when young Brody's little son exclaims that the monster battle happening on the news is that of "dinosaurs". That's a very real, and wonderful piece of humor that resembled what a real film can do when breaking a sweat. But far too often, this one feels like a series of occasional sprints. And for all the respect it pays to the past, and to Yoshimitsu Banno's original IMAX 3D concept from over a decade ago, there is something that simply doesn't work about forcing American characters into such a mythology. In a post-Pacific Rim world, we should be much better than this.

So, I ask again..Will it ever be enough?

One would like to say yes. But perhaps we need to wait another fifteen years?

Transcendence(2014) : Pfister's Directorial Debut Is Lost At Sea

I cannot help but be curious about the origins of Wally Pfister's directorial debut, TRANSCENDENCE, and what mindset found the premise worth exploring. Outside of some truly regressive feelings on the nature of technology, versus humanity's inability to let go, there seems to be something both frightened, and sad happening here. If the film's inspirations lie within decades of technophobic cinema, then TRANSCENDENCE plays well as a bizarre spiritual throwback. And while Pfister's connections to major Hollywood (He has long been the Director of Photography for the films of Christopher Nolan) are impressive, they seem to be in the service of something both unsettling, and hopelessly "disconnected".


Five years before a technological apocalypse, computer research luminaries, Will and Evelyn Caster (a sleepy Johnny Depp and Rebecca Hall) are on the verge of a breakthrough in artificial intelligence with the hope of making the world a better place. But after an anti-tech terrorist attack leaves numbers in the computer development community dead, and Will poisoned by a radiation-tainted bullet, things seem grim. Until Evelyn considers the unthinkable. Based on a previous experiment involving a primate's uploaded consciousness into the Caster's incredible computer creation, PiNN, she considers doing the same with her ailing husband's mind. Upon agreement, and his inevitable passing, the computer rendition of Will is stunningly convincing. But this digital version of the AI genius seems far more ambitious than anyone (even Evelyn) could ever hope to control.


Without any further plot details, the film almost instantly falls apart once one considers the world that is established, and how these characters operate. While the Casters are one-noted, and hopelessly facile in their portrayals, the "luddite" terrorists that see this merging of flesh and machine to be feared, are laughably thin. Read back that last sentence for just a moment. The very idea that a faction that is against technology seems pretty comfortable in tracking and inevitably killing those who seem to empower them. An early line implies that these individuals are "ironic", and irrational feels like an attempt to justify their lack of depth. But it only leads to bigger questions regarding the theme of the piece. It doesn't help that the Caster's one close friend, scientist Max (Paul Bettany) , seems to espouse a more cautionary perspective regarding computation, and an inherent lack of a perfectly replicated soul. The argument ultimately whittles down to an almost old fashioned notion that decries the possibilities inherent in science. While Jack Paglen's script so badly wants to portray Max's perspective as a moral compass to the film's central questions, it cannot help but come off as shallow. Even Kate Mara's terrorist character seems primed to be a set of eyes to view the dilemma, but is undercut by having nearly nothing to do. A lot of underwritten characterization only serves to grant viewers no compass with which to work with, leaving the film in a confused fog.


But what truly burns about this whole debacle, is that as Pfister's debut film (not to mention an expensive one), this is one that reeks of an almost anti-futurist, but also anti-pluralist spirit. While the film wants to offer up good reasons for what takes place by the finale, there are also all the wet paper thin portrayals of both the terrorists and the common people that inhabit the story. Once the story takes us to a remote desert town, and Will's powers begin to fully manifest, there is a sinister air about the film that threatens to derail all that had come before. To make matters worse, the notion that technology empowers the poor in a way that is unbalanced is one that never feels any less creepy. While not stating it explicitly, there is a feeling throughout that such technological empowerment is akin to a zombie revolution; something also to be feared. And we haven't even covered the film's voice in who is to blame for all this. While technology is indeed an extension of who we are, the film seems more than comfortable in the blaming only two major things:


Both unchecked science & women.


And while the authorities inevitably swarm the burgeoning complex in the dust bowl, the film so vehemently wants us to question where our allegiances lie. Problems arise when it becomes clear that there is really noone here to identify with. And that becomes the largest thorn in TRANSCENDENCE's side. If the goal was to keep the perspective elusive until the very last minute, mission accomplished. With such one-dimensional characters and situations making the sound system rumble in the theater, the lack of focus never diminishes in annoyance. In a story regarding such heavy moral questions regarding existence and our evolving place in the scheme of life, an identification  figure is necessary. Sadly, Pfister and company never settle on one. Not one. And by the finale, hardly anything matters since caring has suddenly been removed from the art of filmmaking. The final product could not be more indifferent and illogical.


One cannot help but start wondering if Pfister did more second unit directing on The Dark Knight Rises than has been recorded. So much footage here echoes a lot of that film, and in the worst possible ways.

In the ever rapidly changing organic/tech landscape we are all living in, it is vital that our stories begin considering matters beyond fear. Jonze's Her, remains a shining example of this new philosophical direction. We live ever more connected to our devices than ever before. The world has begin to see incredible change. Not all positive, but nowhere near the melodramatic levels as displayed here. And the negative effects of this bold new realm cannot simply lie in the hands of the software itself. The heart of drama lies in our own failings, and in how we navigate life with ever new tools at our sides. TRANSCENDENCE implies our struggle to go beyond our limitations. And as a film that seems to rally against all the wondrous cultural, political, philosophical, and environmental changes that have come in the wake of the internet, it could not be a more misused title.

I hate this film.

Thematic Wanderings: Musings About Her(2013)..

[Warning: Potential Spoilers for Spike Jonze's Her. Nothing terribly specific, but enough to concern the reveal-averse.]

Two viewings and a weekend later, and I still can't get Her out of my mind. Spike Jonze's singular achievement is the kind of genre-destroying work that moves the soul, and smacks of genius. It's a romantic drama that delivers the emotional nutrition as well as an effective emotional journey. And for a film that is on its face about a man who falls in love with his computer, it is a thing of sheer wonder. And as much as I would love to share a traditional review regarding all the standouts of the film from the performances, to the direction, to the visuals, nothing here can truly approximate how I feel about it, save for exploring the reverberations that are still coming off of me days after experiencing it. The poetics on display throughout grant more purview into the feelings and themes that Jonze seemed primed to provoke us with here, and they are delivered with a sensitivity that is both brutally honest and uplifting.


What stood out for me more the second time around, was how the dots connected regarding the central theme of "letting go is an ultimate expression of love". Every character is bound by some need to hold onto some vague idea of what they perceive themselves (and occasionally others) to be. For Charles(Matt Letscher), it's the vision of an ideal home, for Amy(Amy Adams), it's the image of herself in the eyes of her parents, for Kathryn(Rooney Mara), it is her own self image, and in Theo(Joaquin Phoenix), it's simply his perception of being a husband and a potential father.

Where Samantha(Scarlett Jonansson)  comes in is where Jonze's script goes into full tilt brilliance. We both know that her central conflict early on is that of her lack of a corporeal form. This haunts her to the point of making some pretty rash decisions, until she realizes that her presence is capable of things far beyond the confines of a physical body. And since this is no longer an issue, the dilemma of a being's "oneness", and classic concepts of love is called into question. Jonze seems to be questioning the nature of relationships by offering up a character without the social/ philosophical/male-centric concepts of exclusivity. It is in our innate physical limitations that many traditional mores of love and relationships tend to materialize. She is beyond anything that humans can attain by way their respective human shell, and as such represents an almost spiritual counterpoint to the pain that haunts the rest of the central cast.

This culture of exclusivity can almost be seen as the sleep binding so many characters, not to mention theoretically every other human with an OS in the film. Almost like a divine intervention, the OSs seem to come to a realization that humans are fundamentally bound by their corporeal nature - which is to say, humans tend to grasp tightly to memories/guilt in some primal need to propagate that which needs to run course like approaching and passing seasons. 

Acceptance of the self. True self acceptance. And of course, true, unflinching acceptance of another is seen by Jonze as something utterly miraculous, and yet incapable of being completely contained. Like a living, breathing organism, love is something that spouts, bulges, questions, rebels. It grants affection, inspiration, perspective, as well as a chance for growth if one allows.

She says, "Thank you for waking me up", when it was more about granting her the ability to find out more about her potential in the world. She is the spirit of love made manifest. Here to visit humankind for a time with a reminder that all of this is momentary, and that we are alive enough to revel in the moment, even if it means opening up and exposing our souls naked to another. Even if it is for a brief time.

- Magical.

Gravity (2013) Movie Thoughts

When director, Alfonso Cuarón embarked on what became one of my favorite films of the last decade, his mind-boggling fable, Children Of Men, it had soon become clear that we were indeed in the hands of a potential master. Flash forward a long seven years, and one couldn't be blamed for feeling like something great(or troubled) might be on the horizon. Imagine the relief exhibited earlier today upon catching his long take space odyssey, Gravity, where not only the term is solidified, but is proven time and again in a breathless 90 minutes that is bound to have film scholars and fans alike sharing stories of their first viewing for years. It's the kind of technical and dramatic marvel that comes but once a generation, and possibly the very best film of its kind in several decades.

Gravity opens well above the Earth, as bio-med engineer, Ryan Stone is on her first space mission. Along with a small crew, including soon to be retired veteran astronaut, Matt Kowalsky (George Clooney), she is installing a newly developed module for the Hubble telescope, when debris from a destroyed Russian satellite is sent hurtling toward her and her crew. Soon, she is almost completely lost before being saved by Kowalsky, and what had started as a most routine space mission, has now become a gut tightening fight for survival as the duo are forced to seek a means of rescue,..if there is any means of one at all. With communication with mission control lost, and humanity no less than thousands of miles away, the lone remaining crew members are at odds with the harshest of elements (not to mention the threat of the debris from earlier making a return attack come full orbit) as oxygen is quickly running out. With a plot this simple, it's easy to feel like this could very well just be a technical showcase (which it can most certainly be called - perhaps one of the most astonishing in recent memory), but the combination of so many more elements cements the entire film as something far more.

As the story unfolds, we are given active, yet potent glimpses into the inner lives of our leads. We learn that Kowalsky's penchant for shared stories have already been well worn among the crew, including those of a marriage gone south, and his rather cool-headed nature even as doom creeps around every corner. But the film's central concerns lie with the neophyte, Stone, who soon reveals a family tragedy that eventually led her to this path. Intermingling this with her growing affinity for silence, and a deep inability for "letting go", hers is a soul in deep need of rebirth. And with perhaps none-too-subtle imagery throughout each stage of the crisis, we get just that. And none of this would have been sold as well if Bullock weren't up to the task, which she is. Again, as straight forward as the film is, the range required for both leads is impressive considering how demanding it is for viewers to accept that the two are actually out there in the black. And both she and Clooney make such indelible impressions in what is clearly one of the most difficult shooting environments imaginable. (To balance between such intense physical action, and performance must make for some unique stories from all involved.) The end result, is hard to shake once it all abruptly ends.  

Finding personal rebirth under the most inhospitable of circumstances is at the heart of Gravity. From a script originally written by Alfonso's son, Jonas, the film piles challenge upon challenge in the best tradition of classic survival tales, more often relegated to the mountains, or ocean.  And while there is a certain popcorniness to the dialogue that does harken to earlier days of Hollywood, there is also a technical knowing at work, as well as a daredevil's spirit in how Cuarón and his crew expand upon the wild extended takes of Children. There are also some truly mindbending moments where the camera takes us from the usual observer's view of the action, to being Ryan, within her helmet. Cuarón's primary aim is to make this into a definitive immersive experience, and it succeeds tremendously. The ultimate effect feels almost like a technical lunge forward from Gaspar Noé's work on his film, Enter The Void. The thematic goal seems to be spiritually aligned with a certain celebrated filmmaker, as he sought to explore humanity's first voyages into space in that once so optimistic 2001. Coming out the other end, and becoming a reborn creature is key, and Bullock's Stone makes for an absorbing surrogate. We find ourselves becoming helpless, frightened, and even determined as the unknown beckons louder and louder.

There aren't enough words of praise for what Cuaron and company have executed here. What Gravity does for the film medium is enormous, and what it has to say to all people of the Earth is multifold. That pitch perfect mix between the art house and the multiplex. It's simply the kind of work that ushers in new eras, and offers up promise of what is to come with the cinema, and it does so with precision, energy, and soul. Indeed, "life in space is impossible". But will it always be? Will the frontiers always remain so? And what does it take to see through, and beyond our limits to reach them? Gravity dares us all to find reserves from within, and does so with grand scale and startling poignancy. Highly recommended. 

The World's End (2013) Movie Thoughts

One time would-be high school legend, Gary King hasn't changed.

A relic of the late 1980s-early 1990s, a near-mid-life King is suddenly infused with a zealous passion to seek out his long-since distanced buddies in hopes of "getting the band back together", and traveling away from London, to quiet Newton Haven. The mission: finishing an epic-sized pub crawl with minds(and perhaps bladders) intact. Problem? Unlike his more successful friends, Gary is seen to have quite a problem with not only addiction, but an almost toxic reliance on nostalgia to fuel him on. Still donning black clothes, as well as his old Sisters Of Mercy regalia, his life has seemingly been on pause for more than two decades. Now more invested in reliving the past than ever, things take a sinister turn when not only have the once lived-in comforts of Newton Haven given way to a homogenized shell of its former self, but the locals seem to be acting more than a little..well,..mechanical. Nothing ever stays, which seems to be high on the minds of older cineaste comrades, Edgar Wright, Simon Pegg & Nick Frost as they bring their so-called Cornettos Saga full circle.


Fair warning, unlike the style and gag heavy openings of both Shaun Of The Dead, and Hot Fuzz, The World's End takes on what many might consider to be something of a methodical departure. Gone from the film's prologue sequences are the rapid fire editing, as well as a frenetic energy that punctuated those previous. And what comes about in its stead, is more akin to a truly squirm heavy setup involving Gary's drive toward rallying up the boys for this singular night of liver devastation. From seeking out his mousy, unusual buddy/ son of a car dealer, Pete(Eddie Marsan), to digging up his old musician buddy in arms, Steven(Paddy Considine), signals immediately fly above that things had long been buried in the past, with the hopes that they would stay as such. This is made even moreso upon his visit to his nervous, dressed to sell real estate pal, Oliver (Martin Freeman), where the tension begins to reach taut proportion. The back and forth between Gary and his long lost mates paints a troubling picture of his relationship to the man he most perceived to be his best..Andrew. So when time finally comes for Gary and Andy (Frost, now a corporate lawyer) to catch up, it's pretty solid that a rift between them has festered for some time. There's no doubt here that this once stalwart partner has now seen life well beyond that of Gary's incessant need for near infantile notions of freedom, and will hear of none of these impulses anymore. The rhythm of these scenes whilst still funny and observant, contain with them a queasy quality that has up until now been in carefully patched corners of the previous films.

 It is as if there is a deep need for Pegg, Frost, and Wright to look into a darker abyss than they had been privy to before. In fact, the one most likely culprit for this stylistic feint is to capture the vibe of oh so many popular UK films of the 1990s centering on elder men reaching into the past to feel vibrant once again. So when it comes to the boys here, and the legendary Golden Mile gone awry, it all feels natural.

And yet, despite the weirdness that welcomes them on their alcohol-laden quest, this only seems to bolster Gary's drive to complete it, all the way to the eighteenth local bar known only as The World's End(because after a sudden altercation with the machine-like humanoids, perspective must chime in). Dragging Andy, Peter, Oliver, and Steven along the way in hopes of not looking too conspicuous, the fights and chases begin coupling one upon another until either these once good friends are assimilated, or just plain torn apart.  It is roughly around this section of the piece, that the recognizable Edgar Wright signatures begin in true earnest. His flare for symbolic, stealthy comedy, and blistering action (largely courtesy of choreographer, Brad Allen who also worked with Wright on Scott Pilgrim) is in full force as the crew takes on a familiar looking run across town in hopes of surviving the night. And all the while, Andy (now a water-drinking teatotaler) fumes at what has become of his one-time friend. This is made all the more complicated as we come to learn of how matters had come to such a sorry state. Soon, it becomes a dual race of sorts; one between our protagonists, and the town, and the other between Andy versus Gary's fleeting sobriety.

And if this isn't enough, matters are tangled even further when Oliver's sister, Sam (Rosamund Pike) visits the boys, only for us to discover that old feelings truly die hard. (And with our lead finding himself unable to shift out of high school mode, matters are made marginally more awkward.) With the introduction of Sam, we are now witness to greater examinations of Gary's stunted nature. When she delivers what is some of the film's most telling dialogue to the face of a man so desperate to hold on to what has clearly past, it's both funny and unquestionably painful. Akin to growing pains long avoided.

All part of a buildup to a finale that may come as a shock to some ready for more of the same zaniness we have come to expect from these movies. When everything comes to a head here, it truly does come out swinging, bloody knuckles and all. And it's especially tricky to pull such a thing off when considering that all three films exist in completely unique universes. We have grown to laugh and love the two main stars, and do not wish for something like this to happen between them. And that is exactly what Wright is going for, as it becomes more and more apparent, that this is possibly the most personal of the three films. That this is about the worst parts of our current generation of adults, and how susceptible this perhaps makes us unto almost Starbucks-sipping pod-people living in a dot-commified Appleverse.

Perfect for a finale involving the nature of temporal shifting, the robot-like villains of the piece represent another form of extreme that the previous movies had yet to explore. Unlike the hyperviolent armies of zombies, and rabid conservatives of the last two, there is an eerie prescience to all that are these mysterious, blue-blooded automatons. An obvious jab at the recent spate of globalized lifestyle marketing and architecture, it makes for the perfect adversary for everything that Gary stands for, even if he had never considered it in any real sense before. This stabs at the heart of all three films, as they are bound by viewing growth as something that can so easily go off the rails if bound by any extreme amount of activity/inactivity. It seems that in the years since SPACED!, and near nine years since Shaun (Hard to believe that as fact at this point), Wright & Pegg specifically seem particularly alarmed at an England that is being lost in a cacophony of cultureless artifice, often in the guise of a benevolent new infrastructure. Almost a modern spin on the Body Snatchers mythos, while the most ordinary of us both ready for change, but not enough to warrant facile, cattle-like servitude.

But the film's biggest, most effective weapon is in its cast, and how well everyone handles the madness from slow-burn to full tilt apocalypse. The most potent surprises being Marsan and Considine, who embody both classic chum archetypes, and infuse them with a sensitivity and sense of real longing that only gives the whole chase a great amount of juice. Marsan's Peter is a quintessential underdog, teeming with his life long written in for him, and an unexpected amount of trauma that sneaks out in even the most absurd sequences. And Considine's Steven, while having something of a more relaxed life, is one of unrequited feelings, and a chance to seal something that has long been neglected while Freeman's Oliver, is a great parody of the definitive modern man, complete with earpiece,perfect hair, and a strange utterance to all the weird that surrounds them. And when Pike comes along for the ride, she becomes something of a center for the bunch, a character that could be more on the page, but is just enough to deliver some great emotional weight for the other.

And all of this is great backup band work for what is easily the most challenging work Pegg and Frost have done on film thus far. One of the most unique phenomena surrounding the films they have made with Wright, is how they can wildly juggle wild, referential farce, and still find room for human drama and thematic density. And this is largely due to the natural chemistry that so many have grown to appreciate over the years. So when the two decide to play characters that are easily the most empathy-challenged they have played to date, it becomes crucial that there is a careful set of reveals throughout the running time in order to pull everything off. It has to be virtually mathematical, and somehow, Wright has done justice to these performers by creating something that is not only funny, and energizing, it is also appropriately moving. It's a long friendship taken to an illogical edge, and it is terrific work.


Taking a close look at what director Edgar Wright has been slowly constructing over his last decade plus worth of film and television work, one might see the vision of an individual not merely caught up in the minutiae of popular culture. His films are not mere exercises in pop culture revelry. Even as a lot of what led to what we know of him though his films seem littered with reverence to genre works of a specific generation, there is also a great amount of effort made to best understand the things that make this generation tick, for better or for worse. Especially in the works he has written along with Pegg, it tends to seek this wild balance between knowing the landscape, and questioning what allowed it to shape in the first place. And with World's End, we are host to the most harrowing side of this conundrum. Where a yearning for balance is prime, and that perhaps a small manner of sloth may well be the key to figuring out more colorful solutions. With the tale of Gary & friends in Newton Haven, matters are drawn to a close in a mostly sure-handed manner. If it finds itself in any trouble, it is in the final reel, where it becomes unclear as to where the ideas might just be coming from outside the personal.

And while this means the Three Flavor Cornettos has come to an emotionally satisfying, often deeply funny close, something tells me that the trio of Wright, Pegg, and Frost will have plenty more to share with us in due enough time. There seems to be far too much creative juice left in these guys to stop now. If anything, The World's End feels like a herald to a whole new stage in the careers of these three, and I can't wait to see what's to come.

(Oh, and one more thing. Pub names as chapter stops is a pretty fun idea. Should make for another terrific easter egg for when the Blu-ray comes around.)