Author: thedudeabidesinsouthflorida

Drama In Front Of and Behind the Camera: All the Money in the World

all-the-money-in-the-world

“That’s why they call it the American Dream, because you have to be asleep to believe it.” ― George Carlin

J. Paul Getty was not just the richest man who walked the earth in 1973, he was one of the richest man who had ever walked it. He found oil in Saudi Arabia and was an infamous penny pincher. He achieved the success we all dream of in one way or another.

But Getty, no matter how smart or savvy or wary he was, lacked the humanity we all hope we have. On July 10th of 1973, Getty’s grandson, Paul Getty Jr., was kidnapped in Rome by Italian gangsters. They asked for $17 million as ransom. Getty refused, and in the end, only paid $2 million, because that was what he could get as a tax credit.

It makes you wonder, was it the money that turned Getty Sr. into stone? Or was it in him all along? Or do you have to stay asleep to some things to keep the American dream? To believe it’s worth it?

With Getty Sr.  as an immovable force, it’s up to Getty Jr.’s mother Gail (Michelle Williams) to fight for her son’s life, and Fletcher Chase (Mark Wahlberg) to help negotiate Getty Jr.’s release. As they suffer loss after loss, with Getty Jr. slipping from their grip, they’ll wake up to some realities of their own.

To me, All the Money in the World  is as intense as Christopher Nolan’s Dunkirk. While Dunkirk relies on the cold hand of time, All the Money in the World relies on the anticipation that something is going to happen, I was just not sure what. This might be because I didn’t know anything about the Getty story going in. I’m sure it will be different for everyone, but for me, watching a boy my age being kidnapped, tortured, with my own mother sitting beside me, watching the mother on screen do everything in her power, well, it got to me. I even nearly threw up during one scene (you’ll know it when you see it), and I had my eyes closed. The film leaves every scene with a cliffhanger, keeping the audience as frustrated as the characters, pulling us along and then making us lose hope over and over again, until the final scene where we can breathe a sigh of relief. It’s the kind of engrossing experience that only film can provide.

Christopher Plummer has been getting all the publicity for replacing Kevin Spacey mere weeks before the film’s release date, but this truly is an ensemble film. Plummer, though, does deserve all the credit he is getting. He makes nuance out of a role that would have just been stitched together with thematic lines. His and director Ridley Scott’s professionalism and talent are the real takeaway from the reshoots.

Michelle Williams gives a nomination-worthy performance as Abigail Getty Harris. She infuses grit and determination into the character, and she rejects every normal “hysterical mother” trope given to her, holding the screen in a fierce grip that puts her among the best female performances of the year.

Mark Wahlberg makes no impression here. I suppose his character is necessary, but… you know. Meh Wahlberg. Not a performance that, I dare say, is worth eight times more than Michelle Williams’. (http://www.vulture.com/2018/01/michelle-williams-paid-8-times-less-than-mark-wahlberg-for-all-the-money-in-the-world.html).

On the other side of the story, Romain Duris as Cinquanta, aka, “the nice kidnapper,” is incredibly charismatic and gives a tender performance. He and Charlie Plummer have the chemistry it takes to make the scenes of Paul’s imprisonment more compelling than they are written to be, and it’s a shame he is being overlooked in coverage of the film.

I like to say that a movie needs to justify its existence. Why is it a film I should spend money and time on? Particularly for live-action dramas.For example, I didn’t think last year’s Loving or this year’s Darkest Hour elevated their respective material to a cinematic level. Both of those films were high quality, but I didn’t gain something from watching them I couldn’t have gained from reading a Wikipedia article about their subjects.

All the Money in the World gives the audience multiple reasons for why it is a movie. The film is thrilling, and the adrenaline from watching it is not something you’ll get from a detached experience of reading it. And the film, no matter how bluntly, tries to say something about wealth, and create themes out of the historical events. Most of the time, it succeeds. And it’s an exciting ride nevertheless. It kept me engaged and left me with things to think about.

Ironically enough, a film that explores the selfishness and corruption of Paul Getty Sr., and his refusal to awaken to his family’s needs, has been a film that through behind-the-scenes drama has been a part of Hollywood’s own awakening to its corruption. Kevin Spacey’s sexual assault allegations were punished, and the revelations about the pay disparity between Williams and Wahlberg have pushed home the persistent gender pay gap. Let’s just hope Hollywood, unlike Getty, doesn’t try to fix things cheaply.

-Madeleine D

Take a Cue From Your Own Movie: Downsizing

downsizing

*Spoiler Alert

Alexander Payne (The Descendants, Nebraska) is a director who is known for “small” (small being basically synonymous with independent) movies with big stars (Jack Nicholson, Reese Witherspoon, George Clooney, Matt Damon, Bruce Dern). His latest film, Downsizing, continues in that same vein, but with more studio marketing than for any of his previous films. Unfortunately, the best thing about an Alexander Payne film, a consistently quirky tone, gets abandoned this time around.

Downsizing explores a differen genres in each of its major acts. While in better movies, this might be rightly labeled “quirky” or “original” and might work for the premise, in Downsizing it does not.

The first act is a pretty by-the-numbers dramedy about the premise. Paul Safranek (Matt Damon) and his wife Audrey (Kristen Wiig) learn about downsizing, a new process that shrinks you down to five inches tall. Once downsized, they get to live in a tiny community built for luxury and wealth. It’s supposed to be more sustainable and help the rapidly dying earth, not to mention increase your buying power exponentially, but it’s not without its problems. Here, the film is presented as a smart social commentary.

Then it takes a nosedive into a meandering second act where a newly downsized Paul wanders around, feels sorry for himself in his lonely new land, goes to his neighbor Dusan’s (Christoph Waltz playing Christoph Waltz, so I’m just going to call him that from here on out) European party, and meets Ngoc Lan, a former political activist whose government downsized her against her will and shipped her to America in a TV box. Ngoc Lan and Paul, through a series of adorable circumstances, find themselves working together to care for the people of the slum Ngoc Lan lives in. A commentary on immigration and poverty in the United States? Maybe?

In the third act, Ngoc Lan, Christoph Waltz, and Paul are invited to come to Norway to meet the original inventor of downsizing. Once there, they learn that the world is actually dying and that a group of small people are going into a vault to repopulate and continue the human race as the outside world dies. Life must find a way, and Paul can’t think of a better use of his life than to join them. But he loves Ngoc Lan and at the last minute joins her instead of going with the others. The end.

If that defied all of your expectations for the film, then you’re not alone. But is this the genius kind of crazy, or crazy kind of crazy?

Downsizing could be seen as a cautionary fable, and some critics, like Todd McCarthy of the Hollywood Reporter who named the film the best of the year, interpreted it as such. But unlike movies that are clear fables, like say, Joel and Ethan Coen’s Raising Arizona, Downsizing does not present itself as one. It plays as an SNL skit that goes on too long, feels like it needs a political message, and invents an ending that is just an excuse to go hang out in the fjords of Norway. It begins to give a social critique, or make an interesting statement, but can’t complete a single thought. It’s a rollercoaster of different stories crammed into one.

Ultimately, I think Downsizing would work much better as a short film. The main parts of the film- man learns about downsizing, downsizes, is unhappy, meets woman, finds purpose in helping others- would be more coherent without hours of filler in between. It’s the filler in Downsizing that bogs down the film and makes it unclear. The second and third act don’t even need to be in a downsized world!

Another problem is with the character development. Paul is a nice guy the whole movie. He doesn’t have a character arc, so there is no real change in his character that reflects the change to “downsize” his life decision.

If I were to find a message in Downsizing, I think the end says something whole. Paul has the opportunity to go with the group of small people to keep the human race alive. Paul finds it all important and sacrificial, but Ngoc Lan wants him to stay with her, primarily for love. He is about to go into the vault when he decides to go back to Ngoc Lan and spend the rest of his days helping her in the slums of LeisureLand.

It seems that director Payne is saying Paul needs to think smaller. He doesn’t need to join some humanity-saving experiment. That big picture thinking is what made him small and unhappy in the first place. He needs to think small like Ngoc Lan, and care for the people around him. He needs to “downsize” his vision and purpose. This is actually a compelling message, except the film doesn’t quite set it up to be that. The film treats the small people going into the vault as doing a necessary and important thing, so why isn’t Paul supposed to be a part of it? And he goes back to Ngoc Lan for love- that’s why she wants him to stay, too.

This problem is representative of the whole film: it has a handful of messages it wants to say, but either doesn’t complete a thought or say something seemingly unintentionally. And because I crave meaning, I have had to dissect it from a film that might not have meant to say that at all. To see such a great premise, with a prolific team behind the scenes, is disappointing.

So if you do see Downsizing, which I can’t recommend, please-

keep your expectations small.

-Madeleine D

You Can’t Please Everyone: The Last Jedi

The Last Jedi

I’d just like to take this moment to say I liked The Force Awakens.

Look, I understand why some people don’t. Does it follow all the beats of A New Hope? Yes. Is A New Hope based on the archetypal Hero’s Journey? Yes. Were people going to be mad if the new Star Wars trilogy was wildly different from the original trilogy, like, say, the hated prequels? Yes. And do I have a bunch of nostalgia and fierce opinions about a movie made twenty two years before I was born? Actually, no.

This is a spoiler review, because you’ve probably already seen The Last Jedi and/or been on the internet.

One of the best things about this new trilogy are the characters, who have certain characteristics of the classic characters, but also have their differences. This movie defines these differences even more.

Rey is closest to Luke, but doesn’t have a royal legacy to live up to. She’s a nobody, and she has to grapple with that and what it means for The Force to have chosen her as the response to Kylo Ren.

Kylo Ren wants to be like Darth Vader, but for wildly different reasons. And he’s not going to get the redemption arc many thought he was. He has to pay for his actions.

Poe is a blend of Han Solo and Leia, and Finn is not Lando Calrissian. I think The Force Awakens needed to be like A New Hope in order to establish these characters so they could work in this film.

The problem is that new characters are added, and as interesting as they are, they are spread too thin, making it so no one gets a fair shake, and people disappear for large chunks of the film. With three somewhat equal plots and a handful of mini-ones, The Last Jedi takes pains to expand the world of Star Wars. It is clear director Rian Johnson was bursting with ideas. However, I think there are also some weak parts. He tries to take on three plots, along with small mini-ones, and I think all he needed was an editor with a strong pen saying, “This is great, Rian, but let’s leave some of this for the next movie or the deleted scenes. This film is two and a half hours, and we really don’t need to see Luke milk a beached loch-ness monster just for a blue-milk callback.”

As for the plots, though, I like the messages of Rose and Finn’s Canto Bright casino adventure. Star Wars is clearly making a small effort to say something nuanced about politics- people profiteering off both sides of the war and animal cruelty is wrong- but I don’t know if taking away so much time from the rest of the characters was worth it. Rose and Finn are legitimate characters (not tokenism) but their plot could be eliminated. Same for Holdo and Poe. I love that Holdo is such an antithesis to what we would expect, middle-aged woman in a ballgown as a military leader, who gets an amazing payoff, but again, not sure if it was worth taking away attention from the film at large. Some consolidating could be made to keep the film from spreading itself so thin and having multiple endings.

The most interesting plot to me was the Kylo and Rey plot. Not only is The Force-head-texting thing new, but it seemed like Johnson read all the fan theories online about the characters and said, Nope! Yet it doesn’t feel like he’s checking boxes. It seems like he’s trying to set the characters on course for a continuation of their arcs, and with the characters literally struggling against each other, gives a visual metaphor to the thematic struggle presented here.

Things people have disliked about the film that I didn’t mind- I was fine with changes to Luke’s character, and I think the parallels to the original trilogy are needed to remind you it’s the same series, and the Star Wars movies have always been based in archetypes. These aren’t new.

For all that is packed into The Last Jedi, the film doesn’t actually end very far from where it started. The resistance fighters are still scrappy and in bad shape, Rey is still figuring out her powers, and another mentor figure is gone. This shows how the Star Wars movies are never going to die, though- if they can do so much while moving forward so little, they will live on for eternity.

You’re always going to have people who are unhappy with change, want complete change, or are unhappy with the particular way you brought change. That isn’t to say criticism isn’t good (that’s kind of my whole thing). But personally, I’m not a Star Wars baby. I have no nostalgia for the original or prequels. I’m just here for the ride and the cultural conversation. I like the new Stars Wars. I like how it has made an effort towards diversity and representation, giving women a bigger role in sci-fi then they’ve ever been allowed, changed franchise filmmaking, and the themes and ideas that are being presented. I also respect the original foundations, but I don’t think that means they are the golden standard.

I think the best path for Star Wars is to do the same. You can’t please everyone, so do what you want. The Last Jedi does what it wants, and I think with a little fine tuning, this is what makes it a strong film and a steady path for the future.

-Madeleine D

“Dancing Through (A) Life”: The Greatest Showman

Dancing through life/ skimming the surface/ gliding where turf is smooth/ Life’s more painless/ for the brainless – “Dancing Through Life” from the musical “Wicked.”

The Greatest Show

The Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus are closed down. Fact.

A lot of people enjoy the circus. Fact.

The circus has a long and troubled history of animal abuse allegations and other ethical violations. Fact.

P.T. Barnum was not the inventor of the circus but widely developed it and was a “self-made man.” Fact.

Barnum was a charming man who advocated for the rights of the downtrodden and outcast and was a progressive social thinker. Fa-hmmmmmmm. Time for a musical number! And a one, two, three, four-

The Greatest Showman is from first-time director Michael Gracey and the passion project of Hugh Jackman. It’s a full swing original pop-musical, so get with it or get out. It’s full of clever choreography, likeable actors with earnest performances, beautiful sets and costumes, and a story that hits all the beats of a tidy rags-to-riches. It’s here to entrance you with magic and wonder. If you want the real P.T. Barnum, you’ll get a glimpse of him, but some of his rougher edges are mysteriously scrubbed away. Here, Barnum is carried by the earnest Jackman, whose Barnum is a business-minded, occasionally dishonest but gold-hearted, family man who identifies with all the outcasts he’s using in his show.

But, even if you don’t know anything about Barnum, there is still a sense in the movie that a lot is being left out, which it is. For example, you aren’t going to see the story of P.T. Barnum’s first real act, which was to buy Joice Heth, an elderly slave, advertise her as the 161 year old nurse of George Washington, and perform a public autopsy on her. I guess Hugh Jackman wasn’t down for that?

The Greatest Showman says it’s telling the story of P.T. Barnum, but it really wants to tell the story of how the circus is a haven for outcasts and misfits, a place for them to find a family. It’s not historically accurate, but you probably knew that you aren’t here for a history lesson, you’re here for musical numbers with Zac Efron and Zendaya! And that is legitimate and a fine indicator of a good time.

The music, penned by Justin Paul and Benj Pasek from La La Land, is fun and light. The choreography is enchanting and creative, with the cast using the settings around them as musical instruments and props during the performances, and it is an unapologetic musical. People just pop into songs. Director Gracey has a background in music videos, and it shows.

If you want a musical, you’re going to get a fun musical. But if you’d like a musical with a bit of thematic depth, I don’t think you’ll get it.

The selling point of the movie, the big theme and the subject of its many anthems, is being an outcast and being yourself. Ignoring, probably, the real P.T. Barnum’s motives, here, everyone is an outcast in some way, trying to fit in. Barnum gives them the chance to be seen and loved. The film really wants to say interesting things and hit on tough subjects- racism, marital infidelity, the dangers of show business on families- but it only does that in a very shallow way. That includes its own theme.

The problem with saying that everyone faces adversity is that yes, the central problem is the sin that all humans have of categorizing people and hurting each other. But some oppression is systemic and institutional. So, Barnum’s desire to be respected by his wife’s wealthy parents can’t really be equated with the struggle of the black characters in the film. Barnum can escape the adversary facing him. They cannot.

Furthermore, you don’t get to know the “freaks” very well. Some of them are given little introductions, but the majority are not. Because we don’t get to know these “freaks,” they don’t get any humanity outside of, “they are rejected by society.” This reduces them to what the movie wants to say the circus freed them from being- nameless freaks.

I went in wanting an entertaining musical, and I got one. I had a blast watching it. I’ve been listening to the soundtrack. I’d probably see it again. If you want to see an original musical, this is the only one being offered up this year, so go have a great time!

But I really don’t think it is too much to ask for some themes in a movie, or at least a message or interesting thought to chew on. Especially with a story like this, that has multiple routes to take. But The Greatest Showman is not willing to give me something beyond what I can find from Katy Perry’s Roar.

And that’s the real shame, because this movie tries to encourage people to be honest and fearless, but can’t find any strength to do that itself.

-Madeleine D

V for Victory: Darkest Hours

darkest hour

“We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.” – Winston Churchill, speech given to the House of Commons, June 4th, 1940.

Great speech, huh? One of the best the world has ever heard. While you may assume you know about Winston Churchill, the prime minister of England during WWII, the man who guided the country through its “darkest hours,” Director Joe Wright and actor Gary Oldman want to take you through the first month of his term and try to reveal more about the man.

When I review a movie, I try to either put aside or state my personal preferences. There is no true objectivity in art, and so I try to judge both the technical achievement of a film and the thematic.

So, before I give my verdict on Darkest Hour, I should say that I have seen two other WWII films this year in Dunkirk and Their Finest. And within the last six months I have watched multiple WWI and WWII films (Empire of the Sun, The Wind Rises, Saving Private Ryan, Joyeux Noel, Lawrence of Arabia, Wonder Woman, Sophie’s Choice) and frankly, I’m just tuckered out. Also, British period dramas are not my cup of tea. Sorry. I can appreciate them, but there are only so many I can take. I would not make a good Academy member.

So Darkest Hour to me felt much longer than two hours. I was alert and engaged, but I was also not opposed to an abrupt exit.

Part of the reason is that I think films, to some degree, need to validate why they are films. If you are going to ask someone to pay money to see your film in a theater, there needs to be a compelling reason why. Darkest Hour is a lead-up to one of the most famous speeches in the world. That’s great, but besides “come see Gary Oldman’s great performance,” there isn’t anything here that I either haven’t experienced before, seen before, or could not have found out from a Wikipedia skim.

Moreso, 2017 has been a year characterized by out-of-the-box filmmaking. There have been the Justice Leagues and The Circle’s of course, but there have also been the Get Outs, Wonder Womans, Okjas and Logans and Lady Birds. Films that, even if they are not technically perfect, are ambitious and different. Films that spotlight new voices and talent.

Darkest Hours is classical. That’s not at all a bad thing. It is top-quality filmmaking. Cinematographer Bruno Delbonnel (Amelie, Inside Llewyn Davis) makes each frame of the film mean something. Whether it is framing Churchill alone in a claustrophobic space as he tries to make a decision, or showing the ‘God’s eye view’ of the battlefield, nothing is wasted or unintentional. The script is tight. The score is haunting. All of the actors do a fine job, with Gary Oldman completely disappearing into his role. His makeup and prosthetics aren’t obvious or distracting. The entire film ticks like an intricate machine, and hits every beat.

I think, though, what makes filmmaking such a powerful medium, what keeps it culturally relevant, are the messy films that have something to say and push our expectations. My tastes are leaning towards those films, and they stay with me longer.

If you want to see a fantastic lead performance, and if you love history and admire perfect filmmaking, see Darkest Hour. Appreciate it. But I don’t think that if you miss it, you’ll be missing out on one of the best films of the year.

-Madeleine D

A “Fun” Movie: Justice League

justice league

Why do I keep seeing superhero movies?

This year alone I saw six (including Justice League). That’s a lot of money going into the Hollywood machine! And yes, I liked three of them a lot. Two, I probably could have skipped. This one? Well…

Why am I not boycotting them? After all, a lot of them are just rehashes of other ones. Am I getting desensitized to the action blow-’em-up violence? Am I becoming more satisfied with the loose plots and broad, undefined characters?

My act of resistance was not seeing Justice League on its opening weekend. I didn’t really want to see it. It got blasted by critics, mixed reception from fans, and the most hopeful thing anyone could say to me about it was that it “was fun.”

Being “fun.” Hmmm. That can’t be a bad thing. I think “fun” can be an acceptable thing for a movie to be. So I went, and decided to gauge the film by if I had a “fun” time.

I did not have a fun time.

Justice League takes place where Batman v. Superman leaves off, but has amnesia about half of that film. Batman v. Superman was all about the world rejecting Superman, and Batman fighting him. Then Superman dies. Justice League begins with a mopey montage about the world and Batman suddenly loving Superman and mourning his death.

The film has a “plot,” but it goes through the obligatory motions with as much enthusiasm as I have about explaining it, so let’s just say that the plot’s main purpose is to get the team together and fight a CGI monster-dude. There’s Batman (Ben Affleck), Wonder Woman (Gal Gadot), a newly-resurrected Superman (not a spoiler- Henry Cavill’s name was on the poster), and three new characters- the Flash (Ezra Miller), Cyborg (Ray Fisher), and Aquaman (Jason Momoa). Flash is the energetic comic relief, Cyborg is the moody anti-hero, and Aquaman is just there to have a good time and speak to fish. All of the actors here try their best, but Fisher seems lost within all the CGI, and Miller and Momoa both seem like they are in a much more exciting movie in their heads.

Before I continue, I  know there was a lot of drama and tragedy behind the scenes of the film, and I sympathize. However, that doesn’t mean I can’t criticize it when I’ve been asked to pay to watch it. What was put in theaters is what Warner Brothers decided was a film, and a finished product.

Justice League comes across as a deeply uncomfortable movie. Not for the audience- it requires so little audience engagement that I wrote up the majority of this review in my head during it- but a movie uncomfortable within itself. The actors don’t seem like they fit with the world, the story doesn’t seem like it fits within the previous films, and each scene seems like a patchwork of lackluster efforts and organizational chaos. No scene sits and breathes easily.

For example, I rarely mention CGI and editing in my reviews. Not because they aren’t important, but because most films have professionals working on them and these are areas that are usually competently done. But Justice League can’t even do those things competently. Shots jump awkwardly from one to another, some shots are headscratchers (why do you need a shot at eye level with Wonder Woman’s rear in leather pants? Oh wait…) and some of the CGI is on the level of a video-game.

There is no point in Justice League where there was something that made me think- that looks like a distinct creative decision made by a director with a vision. Which is interesting, because the film is made by the same team behind Batman V. Superman, a film people hated much more than this film, but I think is a better film by the sheer value of having direction. It’s not a great movie by any means, but at least there Zack Snyder tried something. He made interesting casting choices and tried to say something thematically. Justice League says some things about friendship and truth and justice, but… what it actually says beyond the idea that  “those things are good!” I couldn’t tell you.

This is a superhero casserole, stuffed with things people liked from other films- jokes, colors, team-ups, and is crammed in here without thought to what made them work in other films. It’s hollow, but supposedly fun. And I guess if you compare it to previous Snyder-fare it’s fun. There were a few times where a character said something on screen and a part of me went, “Oh, that was a joke.”

But have we really lowered our expectations of “fun” so low that this counts? Can’t a “fun” movie be a movie with direction and effort? Since when are metal things hitting other metal things and a stale script with a by-the-numbers villain “fun?” Why does fun have to be mindless?

So why do I keep seeing superhero movies? Because I believe in their potential. Comic book and superheros are our modern-day Greek mythology and fairy tales. They can be used as lenses in which to view our society’s fears and dreams. They can be easily paired with another genre. Just this year, Logan and Wonder Woman were landmark films and used the conventions of the genre in interesting ways.

Justice League does not push in any category. It stalls progress, and I hope that doesn’t make other movies as lazy- or “fun”- as this one.

-Madeleine D

The Perfect Thanksgiving Movie: Coco

coco-pixar

Dia de los Muertos is a hard sell in America.

In general, all movies about other cultures and countries are. We’ve westernized the world through Hollywood, and we don’t really care for anyone else’s films.

On a deeper level, though, Dia de los Muertos is a Mexican holiday about death that coincides with our date for Halloween. It’s about celebrating and remembering those who have died. And here in America we prefer not to think or talk about death, thank you very much. We don’t die, we “pass on,” and to where? Who knows! But please don’t speak about it too loudly, lest the Grim Reaper come for me before my preferred time.

But, if there is any movie studio able to tackle this holiday and present it to an American audience, it is Pixar. There is nothing the studio behind Finding Nemo, Inside Out, Toy Story, and Up can’t do. Add a big-eyed boy with a guitar and some musical numbers, and maybe Coco will manage to sneak into your heart, and family viewing rotation, after all.

Coco tells the story of Miguel, the youngest of the Rivera family, who wants to be a musician. He wants to be like his idol, Ernesto de la Cruz. The only problem? The Rivera family does not do music. A guitar cannot even be in their line of sight. So on the Day of the Dead, Miguel skips his family’s celebration to compete in a talent competition to show off his skills, and through a series of mishaps, finds himself in the Land of the Dead.

The first act, and probably the weakest part, of Coco is the only area that isn’t highly original. The son-who-wants-to-be-a-musician-but-his-family-doesn’t-want-him-to is not only a trope, but was the plot of 2014’s The Book of Life, an animated movie also about the Day of the Dead.

On a side note, the 2014 animated film The Book of Life is an enjoyable film for kids, but if you have to choose between it and Coco, Coco is the Target brand, Book of Life is the Walmart brand (and Book of Life also includes a mariachi version of Mumford and Sons “I Will Wait,” so decipher from that what you will).

Once the “nobody understands my sensitive musician soul” storyline is established, everything else in Coco shines. It builds up to a well-earned, intense, emotional conclusion that I didn’t see coming. And while there are a few tear-jerker moments, the film doesn’t pry open your tear ducts in the way Pixar usually does. They’ve been accused of being emotionally manipulative, which I think is true in some cases, but here, it doesn’t feel pushed.

I don’t want to say much more about the story or characters, because I think the less you know the better for this film. But, I will say that the voice acting is top-notch, and the adventure the characters go on is full of twists and turns. There are some serious moments, but nothing truly scary, so consider looking at a content review of the film before taking a young child to see it. The toddler I took to see the film was fully engaged the whole time.

What struck me while watching the film is that Coco, even though it starts on October 31st and the skull motif fits for Halloween, is actually the perfect Thanksgiving movie, a genre that is severely lacking. Thanksgiving as a holiday is about family, being thankful, remembering your past, and appreciating your life and culture. Coco does all of that.

In America, we take two distinct views on death. Either we ignore it and don’t talk about it, or we say it’s natural and a part of life. As a Christian, I don’t think either of these are healthy. Ignoring death, not talking to children about it, and refusing to acknowledge or prepare for it is not only an act of fear, but simply unreasonable. We can’t protect anyone from death. Christianity is all about death- the death of Jesus, the death of our sins on a cross, death of our former selves when we come to Christ, and our eventual death so we can go to a new heavens and new earth.

As for saying it’s a natural part of life, ala the Lion King, that also doesn’t seem right either, because we weren’t made to die. In the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve were made to be eternal with God forever. Sin is the unnatural thing brought to mankind. For those who are not Christians, death is something to be afraid of, and as Christians, we should mourn for them.

So Dia de los Muertos- a holiday that acknowledges death, believes that there is an afterlife, teaches children that death isn’t something to be afraid of, and celebrates family- is a great thing. It’s a very Christian thing, I believe.

The only thing that makes this particular Presbyterian pause is that Coco sometimes leans a little too close to ancestral worship. Also, the afterlife presented here isn’t really a heaven. In the film, it explains that if you aren’t remembered by people on earth, then you have a “final death,” where you are gone forever, which isn’t what Heaven is.  

I think these issues can be talked through with children if you go as a family to see Coco, which I highly recommend you do. It is not only a lovely film that shows off Pixar’s storytelling and artistry, but it also has another message that is ripe for discussion. Coco explains how we are responsible for each other. Miguel is responsible for his family members being remembered, and his family members are responsible for him and helping his future, and they all create a tight net that will never let the others fall. We are responsible for each other, whether in death or life, and through those loving bonds, nothing can really separate us, because one day, I hope, we will all be united together again.

-Madeleine D

My Best Self: Lady Bird

Lady-Bird

It’s 2002, Sacramento, and Christine “Lady Bird” McPherson (Saoirse Ronan) is up to trouble again.

She’s not a bad teen by any means. She tries very hard to be good. She just wants what… what she is supposed to have. This is her senior year of high school. Can’t she have a boyfriend, a job, a role in the school play, a little popularity, and a chance to get into the college of her dreams and escape California without her mother (Laurie MetCalf) giving her the silent treatment or commenting on every little thing?

Is that too much to ask?

Greta Gerwig’s directorial debut is a terrifically acted, charming meditation on the leap between teenagehood and adulthood. It’s about who and what shapes you, and loving where you come from. It’s a love letter to suburbia and awkward moments and mistakes and families.

It hits all the beats of a coming of age story, but in a way that doesn’t feel like it’s trying to be “quirky” and “cute.” It feels honest, and I think a lot of people will see shadows of their lives in this film, to a bigger degree than a lot of films that try so hard to be realistic and cool and end up missing the point.

Lady Bird is not a story where bad things rain down upon the protagonist. It’s not an endless parade of drama and despair. There are serious moments, but I think the life Lady Bird leads is common and unextraordinary. In other words, it’s not a movie where you describe the plot, because Lady Bird isn’t really interested in that. It’s interested in making you laugh, cringe, nod in understanding, and reflect.

A lot has been written about Lady Bird- the splendor of Ronan’s performance, Gerwig’s confident directing, the commentary on wealth and Bush-era America. Those are all important aspects of the film, but here is what I primarily took away.

Lady Bird is an optimistic movie in the way another one of my favorite films of the year, The Unknown Girl, is. Both are films about characters figuring out how to interact with the people around them. Lady Bird navigates strained relationships with her mother, father, boyfriend, siblings, friends, teachers, and strangers. Throughout the film, she messes up and tries again, each time getting better and better at empathizing, understanding, and supporting those people. She learns about how complex the lives of others are. She matures by deciding the world is not just about her.

That’s what coming of age is, yet the irony is that most films like this are about individuals becoming more selfish. They decide they deserve more, that life isn’t fair, and that they have a special place in the world to do something only they can fill.

But Lady Bird is about realizing that maybe you don’t contribute all that much, and maybe we need to treat each other with a little more kindness as we realize that sobering fact.

Lady Bird isn’t strikingly unique in many aspects, yet people love it (it has set a record on Rotten Tomatoes by having no negative reviews and just today was named Best Picture by The New York Film Critics Circle). I think that’s because it is difficult to convey such a nuanced message. That is what makes it one of the best films of the year.

-Madeleine D

 

So We Just Pretend Those Other Movies Don’t Exist, Right? Thor: Ragnarok

thor ragnarok

Every time I go in to see a Marvel movie, a voice whispers in the back of my mind: Don’t you dare give this a good review. You can’t give them all good reviews. Your five readers are going to think you’re basic. You’re becoming the enemy of cinema, a blockbuster, mouth-drooling, action-spectacular addict who likes quips and things that go boom. Don’t fall into the trap. Be better. Be the special snowflake who doesn’t like it.

But, I whisper back to the voice, professional critics have liked it. And I’ve been looking forward to this movie for two years.

They’ve already been mind-controlled. You are young, you can escape.

I just want to have a good time.

No, art only comes through pain and suffering.

That sounds fake, but okay.

Reveal this movie for what it truly is- a hollow technicolor sugar-rush!

And then I write the review.

Thor: Ragnarok takes place a little time after Avengers: Age of Ultron left off. Thor has been having dreams of an impending Ragnarok, the term denoting the apocalyptic-like end of his home planet of Asgard. As he tries to figure out what’s going on, his (evil? antihero?) brother Loki (Tom Hiddleston, giving a very earnest performance) has been masquerading as their father, Odin (Anthony Hopkins, definitely phoning it in), on the throne. A series of events occur, and Odin, being the Best Dad Ever, tells Thor and Loki they have an evil sister, Hela, goddess of death, (Cate Blanchett, having way too much fun) who is going to destroy Asgard. And then Odin promptly dies. Thor is subsequently sent to the planet of Sakaar, where he is forced to fight in a gladiatorial arena against fellow Avenger, Hulk (Mark Ruffalo, who deserves more respect for his MCU work at this point).

When I walked out of the theater, the first words out of my mouth were- “it felt sloppy, and I am conflicted.”

Whaaaatttt? 

Director Taika Waititi (of the fabulous Hunt for the Wilderpeople and What We Do In The Shadows) has said the dialogue of the film is “about 80%” improvised. And that’s where the problem lies.

The film is clearly split into three parts (not just because of the three-act film structure) and they are all very different. The first part is rushed and works to parody the rest of the Thor films and clear up any threads to the previous films in order to start with a clean slate. This part was obviously scripted, with only subtle details that point to Waititi.

Then there is act two, where Thor is on Sakaar, fights Hulk, and assembles the new team. This is clearly where the improvisation happens, and where Waititi is most in control. The action sequences are good, but it’s the character interactions that shine. Then the film remembers- oh wait, plot– and so act three is served up with a script and probably a dose of improv. The pacing is uneven and rushed.

The third act is where the attempt at an emotional core takes place. Heimdall and Thor repeat this mantra a few times: Asgard is not a place, it’s a people. And that’s nice, except….

You can’t spend the first part of this movie parodying and invalidating and killing off the only recognizable characters from the previous Thor films, then expect me to then use the supposed connection I have with the previous Thor films to make me believe this ending and care. Maybe this makes me a terrible human being, but seeing all those extras looking mildly distressed is not enough to make me care all that much about Asgard.

So without an emotional connection at all, Thor: Ragnarok does not feel like a Waititi film, because his films do have heart. Quirky and off-kilter maybe, but they feel genuine. The ending of Thor: Ragnarok does not.

Ultimately, this film exemplifies all the pros and cons of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. The good things? Well, there are jokes in this film that have been 5 years in the making, and as a fan, that is glorious. It makes it all worth it. The easter eggs in here are spectacular. I love seeing different Avengers pair off and watching their dynamic. I love that Marvel trusted an indie New Zealand comedic director to handle a big blockbuster! That only happens when you’re on your 17th film.

But the bad things? The first act having to deal with the previous movies. The overstuffed plot and characters that sacrifice a smoother story for fan service. The way Marvel is becoming too much of the same “funny.”

Yes, I said it. Marvel is too funny. If you watch the first Avengers film, while all the Avengers can be funny, each Avenger was a different kind of funny. Iron Man quipped. Captain America balked. Black Widow had the understatements. Bruce Banner/Hulk self-deprecated. Thor was a meathead.

But now, everyone has the same Marvel Humor. Doctor Strange, Ant Man, Star Lord and all the Guardians of the Galaxy, they all rip one-liners and can’t have an emotional moment without a joke attached. Thor may be more witty, and his jokes more physical, but when Waititi is gone and Thor is in the hands of another director, his jokes will probably lose their edge and become the same as everyone else. When everyone is the same kind of funny, it’s not as fun.  So I’m surprised this film has seemingly caught everyone off-guard by being a straight comedy. That’s really all the MCU is creating right now, and while a few films in the future may divert the path, Marvel needs to rethink their brand. Light does not have to mean sitcom.

I’m trying to keep my critic’s hat on for this, because believe me, my fan side has some very specific strong opinions. I had high expectations going in.

That all said, I’m critiquing this movie because it has so many things going for it. You’re harder on things you love. And while I am frustrated with Thor: Ragnarok, I do like it, and I think most people will love it. The acting, the humor, the character moments, the visuals, the music, are all spot-on. I can’t really say more for fear of giving stuff away, but this film is really best just seen and experienced. If you can get over the issues I had, which I’m sure I’ll be able to put aside for a repeated viewing, then Thor: Ragnarok is going to be a blast. I don’t think this is a game-changer, but it’s certainly a solid step.

-Madeleine D

Our Responsibility to Strangers: The Unknown Girl

the unknown girl

What responsibility do I have to a stranger?

If I see someone on the street crying, I don’t comfort them. Right? Keep to yourself. Don’t interfere.

But what if I see that person fall down? I don’t help them up, right? They can pull themselves up. Toughen up. They probably don’t want my help.

What if they walk in front of traffic? Are hit by a car? I interfere, right? But what makes that different from the other times?

Dr. Jenny Davins is a gentle, considerate, helpful, caring, practically perfect doctor to her patients. She makes house visits at weird hours of the night, sleeps in her office, and will drop everything to take care of you. She is far overdue for some time to herself, time to close her doors and get some rest.

But one fateful night, when she closes her doors and ignores a woman who knocks, the woman shows up dead the next morning. Who is to blame? Certainly not the good doctor. Nobody blames her.

Yet Dr. Davins can’t get the woman out of her head. The nameless woman no one can identify. The nameless woman who may die without a tombstone and a family. So Dr. Davins goes on a search to find her.

The Unknown Girl is a Belgian French foreign-language film from the respected Dardenne brothers. Please don’t let that scare you off! I’m a little hesitant about foreign language movies, too (a small piece of my father’s soul just died), but I am very, very thankful I saw this one. Trust me, the mystery is so gripping and the acting and story so powerful that the inconvenience of subtitles becomes nothing in their wake.

The Unknown Girl has on display some of the better qualities of European films compared to American films. Generally speaking, in American films, every character and shot is glossy. Even with those that aren’t trying to be, there are things that just make the reality of the movie out of reach. The characters never stumble with their words. Conversations always have a great pacing. The characters never wear the same clothes or hair twice, and they’re certainly never within my price range. No time is wasted on small details when there is the overwhelming push for action and plot.

The Unknown Girl kept surprising me by breaking all of those rules. The Dardennes are known for their documentary-like style. This film does not rush itself or its story. The quiet revelations and heartbreaking moments knock quietly, and the simplicity of each scene is so natural that I could see interactions I’ve had in my life reflected in the ones on the screen.

The greatest part of the film, though, is its star, Adele Haenel. She centers the film with an unexplainable intensity and quiet charisma. In her, I saw myself. Or rather, potential for me. Here was a character that I could look up to, because she was in my reach. I don’t look up to superheroes or Katniss Everdeen or Harry Potter. They are too good in too fantastical of worlds. I can’t match their heroics or even force of personality.

But maybe, just maybe, I could have the integrity of courage of Doctor Davins. Maybe I could be afraid like she was, but go on. Maybe I could care as much about people as she did.

I was moved by The Unknown Girl. Moved in a different way from other movies of the year. I was swept away by the grandeur of Beauty and the Beast and War for the Planet of the Apes and Dunkirk. I was startled and entranced by the uniqueness brought to Logan and Wonder Woman and Baby Driver. I cheered along with the victories of The Big Sick and Battle of the Sexes and To the Bone. A little piece of me died with Despicable Me 3 and The Emoji Movie.

None of these films, though, made me empathize and despise a character at once, or even grasp for a moment my ability to be like them. None of them made me rethink my own actions towards others, and none of them left me feeling as full and hopeful the way The Unknown Girl did.

-Madeleine D