"The Messengers" revolves around a young teenager, Jess (Kristen Stewart), who moves out into rural North Dakota with her dad (Dylan McDermott), her mother (Penelope Ann Miller), and her little brother, to a sunflower farm. The house they move into is run-down and very spooky, and Jess isn't happy about the entire situation. From the moment they arrive to the house, Jess begins to have strange experiences and see very bizarre things. Her younger brother also sees things that nobody else can, and Jess is concerned. A man who shows up out of nowhere (John Corbett) to work at the farm, and the family becomes pretty close with him as well. But the increasingly frightening supernatural experiences that only Jess seems to see get more and more violent, and seem to have a relation to something that happened in the house years ago.
With some obvious similarities to "The Grudge" (and just about every ghost story you can think of), "The Messengers" is an extremely derivative ghost tale that manages to hold itself up without becoming unbearably watchable. The story itself is your typical haunted-house yarn - family moves into house, strange experiences begin that can only be seen by the children or our main character, seems to have a relation to a horrible incident that happened in the house years before. Full of dark and shadowy rooms, ghost-like figures with ridiculously orchestrated jerky movements (reminiscent of "The Grudge"), mostly useless "jump" scares, and a small child character who can see things others can't, "The Messengers" is clichéd, no doubting that. I wasn't afraid once during this film, because I knew when to expect all of the scary moments. Maybe it's because I've seen films like this one too many times, but all I can say for sure is that I didn't find this film scary.
While this film is heavily clichéd (which is probably it's strongest negative point), I still managed to enjoy the majority of it. While the story is typical, it managed to keep my attention and I was at least interested. The cinematography really soared in this film. Everything was very nice looking and the atmosphere was great. The backdrop of the house and the surrounding land really made it feel like it was in the complete middle of nowhere, and the old house itself, while it was your typical haunted house, was admittedly spooky looking. The acting was really good for the most part. Kristen Stewart is the lead and is very talented and convincing. I'd previously seen her in "Panic Room" at a younger age, and even then she was good. I can see her going places. Dylan McDermott and John Corbett are both very good as well, and Penelope Ann Miller, while not giving the best performance of the cast, was decent enough. I can't say anything too horrible about the acting though.
Overall, "The Messengers" is your typical, cliché-ridden modern ghost story, and it borrows so much from other recent films of it's type (which a lot of these films seem to do), that it becomes another one of those "we've seen it all before" horror movies. It doesn't offer much of anything new for the genre, but it was at least watchable. If you want some cheap scares and a very few number of eerie moments, you'll probably enjoy this. But mostly, this film is one big cliché. Enjoyable if you don't take it too seriously though, but just average.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Review of "The Ghost Breakers" (1940)
Many movie fans who were raised seeing Bob Hope strictly in the slightly depressing films he made during the 1960s and his periodic TV specials may be surprised to learn that in the 1940s he was one of the best "fast patter' comedians working on the radio and in films. Generally playing a coward who still managed to come up on top in circumstances over which he had no control, the comic starred in a number of successful films.
I admittedly have a preference for "old dark house" mysteries, and I spent years trying to catch up on this one. The only version of the script which had been readily available through the 1970s was the Dean Martin/Jerry Lewis remake Scared Stiff, which used the basic premise but altered some of the gags and inserted musical numbers.
The action opens in New York City where Lawrence "Larry" Lawrence (Hope) is preparing for a radio broadcast as the city is hit by a storm-created blackout. Larry broadcasts gossip which includes, with tacit approval from the mob, news on some of the local crime kingpins. Unfortunately, his latest broadcast annoys Frenchy Duval (Paul Fix), and Larry is invited over for a few straight facts.
In the meantime, one of Larry's listeners is conferring with a lawyer who informs her she's inherited an island off the Cuban Coast. Mary Carter (Paulette Goddard) is thrilled at the news and makes plans to sail at once, in spite of the island's grim reputation as a hot spot for ghosts and worse. Fending off an offer from an unnamed third party to buy the island, she starts packing.
Larry arrives at Duval's hotel, which happens to also be the one where the heiress is staying. Suspecting he's in for more trouble than he can handle (i.e., any at all), Larry borrows a gun from his servant Alex (Willie Best). When a mysterious stranger is shot at the hotel, Lawrence panics --- assuming he killed the man -- and ends up in Mary's room. The police arrive and she offers him refuge.
Picking her trunk as his hiding place, Larry winds up aboard her cruise ship. Spotting a death threat that had been delivered to her stateroom, he decides that he and Alex will stay and protect her.
En route to Cuba, they encounter Geoff Montgomery (Richard Carlson, starting his move away from playing college-aged characters), with whom Mary's only recently acquainted. He offers to play guide once they arrive in Havana.
Mary vanishes from a nightclub, heading out to heck out the island by night. Larry and a reluctant Alex hire a rowboat and also make for the isle. Arriving, they briefly examine the hut of a local woman with a "zombie son" (Noble Johnson in a fairly creepy, deadpan performance) and proceed on to the bay haunted castle.
It quickly becomes obvious that there's someone else on the island. Alex and Larry have a run-in with a real ghost and the zombie son. Mary arrives and, her clothing torn, puts on a dress once owned by an ancestor for which she's a deal not so dead ringer. This confuses the zombie long enough for them to lock him away.
Investigating the cellars, Larry and Mary find her lawyer in one of the coffins. He'd been attacked by the mysterious individual who had wanted to purchase the island. He dies before he can reveal the killer -- only giving a cryptic clue. This turns out to be a hint at a fabulous treasure hidden underneath the castle.
The killer makes himself known, but is dispatched before he can eliminate the witnesses.
A fun little outing, and a decent example of one of the fairly early sound "old house" mysteries. These films were popular in the silent era, generally pitting one or more characters against an unknown killer in a rambling, storm-tossed mansion. Hope and Goddard had also starred in a sound remake of one of the better known of these haunted-mansion mysteries, The Cat and the Canary.
I admittedly have a preference for "old dark house" mysteries, and I spent years trying to catch up on this one. The only version of the script which had been readily available through the 1970s was the Dean Martin/Jerry Lewis remake Scared Stiff, which used the basic premise but altered some of the gags and inserted musical numbers.
The action opens in New York City where Lawrence "Larry" Lawrence (Hope) is preparing for a radio broadcast as the city is hit by a storm-created blackout. Larry broadcasts gossip which includes, with tacit approval from the mob, news on some of the local crime kingpins. Unfortunately, his latest broadcast annoys Frenchy Duval (Paul Fix), and Larry is invited over for a few straight facts.
In the meantime, one of Larry's listeners is conferring with a lawyer who informs her she's inherited an island off the Cuban Coast. Mary Carter (Paulette Goddard) is thrilled at the news and makes plans to sail at once, in spite of the island's grim reputation as a hot spot for ghosts and worse. Fending off an offer from an unnamed third party to buy the island, she starts packing.
Larry arrives at Duval's hotel, which happens to also be the one where the heiress is staying. Suspecting he's in for more trouble than he can handle (i.e., any at all), Larry borrows a gun from his servant Alex (Willie Best). When a mysterious stranger is shot at the hotel, Lawrence panics --- assuming he killed the man -- and ends up in Mary's room. The police arrive and she offers him refuge.
Picking her trunk as his hiding place, Larry winds up aboard her cruise ship. Spotting a death threat that had been delivered to her stateroom, he decides that he and Alex will stay and protect her.
En route to Cuba, they encounter Geoff Montgomery (Richard Carlson, starting his move away from playing college-aged characters), with whom Mary's only recently acquainted. He offers to play guide once they arrive in Havana.
Mary vanishes from a nightclub, heading out to heck out the island by night. Larry and a reluctant Alex hire a rowboat and also make for the isle. Arriving, they briefly examine the hut of a local woman with a "zombie son" (Noble Johnson in a fairly creepy, deadpan performance) and proceed on to the bay haunted castle.
It quickly becomes obvious that there's someone else on the island. Alex and Larry have a run-in with a real ghost and the zombie son. Mary arrives and, her clothing torn, puts on a dress once owned by an ancestor for which she's a deal not so dead ringer. This confuses the zombie long enough for them to lock him away.
Investigating the cellars, Larry and Mary find her lawyer in one of the coffins. He'd been attacked by the mysterious individual who had wanted to purchase the island. He dies before he can reveal the killer -- only giving a cryptic clue. This turns out to be a hint at a fabulous treasure hidden underneath the castle.
The killer makes himself known, but is dispatched before he can eliminate the witnesses.
A fun little outing, and a decent example of one of the fairly early sound "old house" mysteries. These films were popular in the silent era, generally pitting one or more characters against an unknown killer in a rambling, storm-tossed mansion. Hope and Goddard had also starred in a sound remake of one of the better known of these haunted-mansion mysteries, The Cat and the Canary.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Review of "Roxanne" (1987)
Roxanne is probably going to go down as the pinnacle of Steve Martin's career as both an actor and a writer. Granted, he's made better movies (L.A. Story, The Man With Two Brains), but this is the one movie that seems to have grabbed the public's attention and keeps bringing them back. And that's because it's deceptively simple, the story of the underdog falling for the girl who has it all. It's peripherally based on Cyrano de Bergerac, but most people haven't read it (or even seen a movie adaptation), so much of the intricacies will be lost. But everyone can identify with the main character, C.D. Bales, and the story of his doomed love.
The movie is a romantic comedy, but that's too simplistic. It's full of incredible situational and verbal humor. Whether he's playing a slapstick routine trying to leave Roxanne's apartment or trying to think up the (more than) twenty insults that would be better than `Big Nose,' Martin's pen rarely falters. He can do drama, as evidenced by the scene on the roof with the overweight kid. And he writes compelling poetry: when C.D. speaks from his heart under Roxanne's window it threatens to turn hokey at any moment, but never does. The power of the movie is in the screenplay, and Martin's written an absolute gem.
Of course, it also doesn't hurt that C.D. is such a sympathetic character. Actually, "sympathetic" is probably the wrong word. He's such a strong and dynamic character that every man would want to be him and every woman would want to have him…if it weren't for that stupid nose of his. Think about it: he's athletic, charming, well-read, witty, and handsome. And that's what makes it even worse for the viewer: knowing all these wonderful things are stuck inside this man and people can't see past his nose (pun not intended). Martin totally inhabits C.D. Bales: he knows him so well that it's second nature. He looks like he's having a blast with it, too, which helps the audience quite a bit.
It's not all Steve Martin, though (although it seems like it at times). The supporting cast does well with their roles and goes far beyond what I would have thought possible. Example: Daryl Hannah, an actress with a hit-and-miss record that's mostly miss, is surprisingly convincing as an astronomy student who knows about sub-nuclear particles and comet trajectories. Or Michael J. Pollard, who takes a role that's pretty much a series of one-liners and makes me remember him above all the other firefighters by the pure glee that he takes with every line.
It's certainly not perfect, nor is it Martin's best offering, but that's beside the point. The point is that it's the kind of movie people really enjoy but can't put their finger on just why. Well, the movie is smart, and that's why people find it refreshing. It's not simply a cookie-cutter romance with the typical leading man and the regular lines: it's got a heart and humanity that most romantic comedies disregard as unnecessary.
The movie is a romantic comedy, but that's too simplistic. It's full of incredible situational and verbal humor. Whether he's playing a slapstick routine trying to leave Roxanne's apartment or trying to think up the (more than) twenty insults that would be better than `Big Nose,' Martin's pen rarely falters. He can do drama, as evidenced by the scene on the roof with the overweight kid. And he writes compelling poetry: when C.D. speaks from his heart under Roxanne's window it threatens to turn hokey at any moment, but never does. The power of the movie is in the screenplay, and Martin's written an absolute gem.
Of course, it also doesn't hurt that C.D. is such a sympathetic character. Actually, "sympathetic" is probably the wrong word. He's such a strong and dynamic character that every man would want to be him and every woman would want to have him…if it weren't for that stupid nose of his. Think about it: he's athletic, charming, well-read, witty, and handsome. And that's what makes it even worse for the viewer: knowing all these wonderful things are stuck inside this man and people can't see past his nose (pun not intended). Martin totally inhabits C.D. Bales: he knows him so well that it's second nature. He looks like he's having a blast with it, too, which helps the audience quite a bit.
It's not all Steve Martin, though (although it seems like it at times). The supporting cast does well with their roles and goes far beyond what I would have thought possible. Example: Daryl Hannah, an actress with a hit-and-miss record that's mostly miss, is surprisingly convincing as an astronomy student who knows about sub-nuclear particles and comet trajectories. Or Michael J. Pollard, who takes a role that's pretty much a series of one-liners and makes me remember him above all the other firefighters by the pure glee that he takes with every line.
It's certainly not perfect, nor is it Martin's best offering, but that's beside the point. The point is that it's the kind of movie people really enjoy but can't put their finger on just why. Well, the movie is smart, and that's why people find it refreshing. It's not simply a cookie-cutter romance with the typical leading man and the regular lines: it's got a heart and humanity that most romantic comedies disregard as unnecessary.
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Review of "Apocalypse Now" (1979)
Francis Ford Coppola's "Apocalypse Now" is not a Vietnam War film. Do not confuse it with one. It is set to the back drop of the war, but it is a metaphorical exposition on the deteriorating effects that war has on the human psyche. It is also one of the most audacious films ever made, produced, or even conceived (second to the Lord of the Rings trilogy.) To call it a masterpiece would be an understatement of proportions as ambitious as the film's production levels.
Opening with no credits and following a memorable first scene playing to the tune of the Doors "The End" as Martin Sheen's Captain Benjamin L. Willard hallucinates to images of helicopters and napalm, the plot is essentially laid out in the first 15 minutes. Willard's mission is to "terminate... with extreme prejudice" Colonel Kurtz (Marlon Brando) who has invariably gone AWOL in the far reaches of the Cambodian jungle and, as told by his general, is "out there operating without any decent restraint, totally beyond the pale of any acceptable human conduct. And he is still in the field commanding troops." Kurtz is a delusional Colonel now being worshipped by a large group of followers who have dubbed him a god. For Willard, this covert operation seems somewhat more manageable than actual combat, yet, the journey he is about to take will be a personal quest that will challenge the limits of his human behavior.
Teaming up with a small crew, they embark down the vast reaches of the river in a rickety boat. Along the way, Willard educates himself on all things Kurtz. During Sheen's raspy voice over, he details his thoughts on the abundance of material he reads. Kurtz was a highly decorated and respected Green Beret. He was a normal man with a family, until a part of him succumbed to the horrors of human brutality and he led himself down the path that Willard is being led. The descent into the jungle is marked by a mesmerizing aura that echoes the battles being fought not to far away. Eventually the power of the experience weights on the group as drugs and a sort of solitary confinement attacks their senses. But Willard seems unfazed and desensitized in his quest to find Kurtz. As he reads about this mythic figure, he is drawn to the man's power and why he has become what he has become. We know that Willard's slow decay will parallel that of Kurtz's.
Marlon Brando has been revered for decades. His presence: unmatchable. His genius: undeniable. But for those unacquainted with his acting prowess and unaccustomed to his physical nuance, Brando can be perceived, in the eyes of an uncompromising film-goer, as a hack. He is most certainly not. Brando was difficult to work with, hard to interpret and impossible to understand, but his talent for unintelligible rants and unparalleled monologues is irrefutable. The man obviously knew what he was doing even if we didn't. His Colonel Kurtz is a being of limitless delusions and continual profundity.
If the film is any indication of the journeys into hell than Francis Ford Coppola's actual experience with making this masterpiece is a true life account of one man's fanatical struggle to produce a movie. It is reported that during the film's 200 plus day principle photography schedule, Coppola contemplated suicide. The film was not only an undeniable struggle to make; it is a grueling film to watch. Coppola's sweat and blood seep through the pores of the steamy locals and his dedication filters through the orifices of Martin Sheen's haunted soldier Willard.
I can not help but feel a warm sense of nostalgia for this type of film. At the dawn of all that was original and unprecedented, films that challenged as well as stimulated were commonplace. Audacity aside, Apocalypse Now is pure film-making. My respect and admiration for Mr. Coppola is of the highest order. But I shudder at the return to what has become the norm for today's standards for film: a lack of innovation. It is not simply the unoriginality of the world of cinema today; it is the fact that nobody seems to care to tell a story anymore or to tell one with heart. But we still have the great ones like Coppola's masterpiece, a film which bathed in its ability to give us something deeper than that which we could comprehend.
That depth in Apocalypse Now is the step into madness. The killing can disturb. The loss of innocence can unhinge. But it is the damage from within; the countless barrages of images that distress, unnerve and detach us from our everyday world and the memories that plague our deepest thoughts that eventually segregates us from humanity and propels us into the realm of the instinctual, the savage and the animalistic. If the thought of killing does not provide sustenance, the act of killing provides man with its fundamental catharsis.
Opening with no credits and following a memorable first scene playing to the tune of the Doors "The End" as Martin Sheen's Captain Benjamin L. Willard hallucinates to images of helicopters and napalm, the plot is essentially laid out in the first 15 minutes. Willard's mission is to "terminate... with extreme prejudice" Colonel Kurtz (Marlon Brando) who has invariably gone AWOL in the far reaches of the Cambodian jungle and, as told by his general, is "out there operating without any decent restraint, totally beyond the pale of any acceptable human conduct. And he is still in the field commanding troops." Kurtz is a delusional Colonel now being worshipped by a large group of followers who have dubbed him a god. For Willard, this covert operation seems somewhat more manageable than actual combat, yet, the journey he is about to take will be a personal quest that will challenge the limits of his human behavior.
Teaming up with a small crew, they embark down the vast reaches of the river in a rickety boat. Along the way, Willard educates himself on all things Kurtz. During Sheen's raspy voice over, he details his thoughts on the abundance of material he reads. Kurtz was a highly decorated and respected Green Beret. He was a normal man with a family, until a part of him succumbed to the horrors of human brutality and he led himself down the path that Willard is being led. The descent into the jungle is marked by a mesmerizing aura that echoes the battles being fought not to far away. Eventually the power of the experience weights on the group as drugs and a sort of solitary confinement attacks their senses. But Willard seems unfazed and desensitized in his quest to find Kurtz. As he reads about this mythic figure, he is drawn to the man's power and why he has become what he has become. We know that Willard's slow decay will parallel that of Kurtz's.
Marlon Brando has been revered for decades. His presence: unmatchable. His genius: undeniable. But for those unacquainted with his acting prowess and unaccustomed to his physical nuance, Brando can be perceived, in the eyes of an uncompromising film-goer, as a hack. He is most certainly not. Brando was difficult to work with, hard to interpret and impossible to understand, but his talent for unintelligible rants and unparalleled monologues is irrefutable. The man obviously knew what he was doing even if we didn't. His Colonel Kurtz is a being of limitless delusions and continual profundity.
If the film is any indication of the journeys into hell than Francis Ford Coppola's actual experience with making this masterpiece is a true life account of one man's fanatical struggle to produce a movie. It is reported that during the film's 200 plus day principle photography schedule, Coppola contemplated suicide. The film was not only an undeniable struggle to make; it is a grueling film to watch. Coppola's sweat and blood seep through the pores of the steamy locals and his dedication filters through the orifices of Martin Sheen's haunted soldier Willard.
I can not help but feel a warm sense of nostalgia for this type of film. At the dawn of all that was original and unprecedented, films that challenged as well as stimulated were commonplace. Audacity aside, Apocalypse Now is pure film-making. My respect and admiration for Mr. Coppola is of the highest order. But I shudder at the return to what has become the norm for today's standards for film: a lack of innovation. It is not simply the unoriginality of the world of cinema today; it is the fact that nobody seems to care to tell a story anymore or to tell one with heart. But we still have the great ones like Coppola's masterpiece, a film which bathed in its ability to give us something deeper than that which we could comprehend.
That depth in Apocalypse Now is the step into madness. The killing can disturb. The loss of innocence can unhinge. But it is the damage from within; the countless barrages of images that distress, unnerve and detach us from our everyday world and the memories that plague our deepest thoughts that eventually segregates us from humanity and propels us into the realm of the instinctual, the savage and the animalistic. If the thought of killing does not provide sustenance, the act of killing provides man with its fundamental catharsis.
Monday, August 13, 2012
Review of "Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance" (2011)
Oh dear. How should I start? I went to "Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance" and I overheard people during the end credits talk amongst themselves. "I couldn't wait to see this movie" said one gentleman. His colleague recounted with "I couldn't wait for it to end." To be fair, here's another incident: I found myself talking with an acquaintance later on who also saw the feature. I mentioned that I planned to write a review on this movie. This was followed by a wincing face while he very softly said "Ooooooh!" As he shook his head, I knew with certainty this movie would be discussed in hushed tones by those who had seen it.
For the uninitiated, "Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance" is the indirect sequel to 2007's "Ghost Rider." These movies are based on the Marvel Comics character of the same name with the same premise. Johnny Blaze (Nicolas Cage) is a daredevil stunt motorcyclist who made a pact with Mephistopheles (Ciaran Hinds, "John Carter") to cure his father's cancer in exchange for his soul. After a cruel twist of fate, Blaze got burned in the deal, losing his soul and becoming a demonic pawn of dark forces. He now has supernatural abilities and is able change at will into a fiery skull-headed demon known as "The Rider," who has a fierce sense of justice. In this form, he is nearly indestructible and uses flaming chains as weapons.
The new movie finds Blaze eight years after the events of the first picture. The cursed loner has left behind his normal life and is living a meager existence in Eastern Europe.
In his earthly guise of "Rourke," the devil is tracking his own son Danny (Fergus Riordan, "I Want to Be a Soldier") in order to inhabit his body. Rourke's current body is dying, as the devil in human form weakens the host. To do Rourke's bidding, the mercenary Ray Carrigan (Johnny Whitworth, "Gamer") and his merry band of goons are hot on Danny's trail.
The boy and his mother Nadya (Violante Placido) are hiding within a monastery's castle when it is stormed. All the monks are killed and the duo is on the run. The drunken priest Moreau (Idris Elba, "Thor") finds and recruits Johnny Blaze to help protect the boy from the devil's insidious plan. Blaze is reluctant to unleash "The Rider" to defend Danny and make battle with the dark forces pursuing the boy. Moreau makes Blaze an offer he cannot refuse: access to a supernatural sect that can lift Blaze's curse and free him from his dark pact. With the prospect to regain his soul, how could he possibly say "no" to that?
A conflict with the Ghost Rider leaves Carrigan dead. He is resurrected by Rourke as the dreaded Blackout, complete with supernatural abilities to siphon life and to decay anything he touches. A great example of his newfound powers is handled somewhat amusingly: Blackout touches a sandwich and it decays. Then he touches an apple, it too dissolves. Nothing happens when he picks up a Twinkie, affirming that a Twinkie will last forever. In this case, the Twinkie can even withstand evil powers.
The Ghost Rider's new look is awesome, having been modified from the previous picture. This time, the skull is charred black, fierce and menacing. When the Rider sucks the sole of a baddie from him, he is truly a horrific force to be reckoned with. Towers of flames spirals off the Rider like a geyser. The way the Rider's leather jacket smolders, bubbles and smokes is a really great detail I haven't seen in the movies before.
The MTV-like camera work was notably atrocious. Many scenes are presented with animation and other graphics that happen so quickly, when they are over you're not sure what happened. The hip, fluid, linear approach I am sure the filmmakers were going for is completely upstaged by an overstretching of the medium. The effect is dizzying, unnerving and, quite frankly, amateur looking. How about the sound? I half wondered if I was going to be partially deaf for a day after seeing the movie, much like the day after a Motley Crue concert, due to the non-stop barrage of loud action sequences and ear-pounding music. If you want to replicate the effect, just put a metal bucket over your head and let a six-year old drum on it with a pair of mallets.
I'm sure the studio felt there could be no wrong in green-lighting this picture. The 2007 original actually grossed money despite being panned by most critics. This new movie boasts a very impressive screen writing credit: that of David S. Goyer. He is best known as the man who breathed new life into the Batman revision for the films "Batman Begins" (2005) and "The Dark Knight" (2008). Surely, he was believed to be able to reinvigorate the Ghost Rider franchise after its dismal 2007 start.
"Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance" is an un-engaging and un-interesting film that is an incoherent mess. I cannot fathom why anyone thought making this movie could possibly have been a good idea. It's frantic, chaotic and downright ugly. There is no sense of awe or fun, which is something you would want in a comic book based movie. If someone wanted to write a thesis on why they should stop making comic book movies, look no further than "Ghost Rider II."
For the uninitiated, "Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance" is the indirect sequel to 2007's "Ghost Rider." These movies are based on the Marvel Comics character of the same name with the same premise. Johnny Blaze (Nicolas Cage) is a daredevil stunt motorcyclist who made a pact with Mephistopheles (Ciaran Hinds, "John Carter") to cure his father's cancer in exchange for his soul. After a cruel twist of fate, Blaze got burned in the deal, losing his soul and becoming a demonic pawn of dark forces. He now has supernatural abilities and is able change at will into a fiery skull-headed demon known as "The Rider," who has a fierce sense of justice. In this form, he is nearly indestructible and uses flaming chains as weapons.
The new movie finds Blaze eight years after the events of the first picture. The cursed loner has left behind his normal life and is living a meager existence in Eastern Europe.
In his earthly guise of "Rourke," the devil is tracking his own son Danny (Fergus Riordan, "I Want to Be a Soldier") in order to inhabit his body. Rourke's current body is dying, as the devil in human form weakens the host. To do Rourke's bidding, the mercenary Ray Carrigan (Johnny Whitworth, "Gamer") and his merry band of goons are hot on Danny's trail.
The boy and his mother Nadya (Violante Placido) are hiding within a monastery's castle when it is stormed. All the monks are killed and the duo is on the run. The drunken priest Moreau (Idris Elba, "Thor") finds and recruits Johnny Blaze to help protect the boy from the devil's insidious plan. Blaze is reluctant to unleash "The Rider" to defend Danny and make battle with the dark forces pursuing the boy. Moreau makes Blaze an offer he cannot refuse: access to a supernatural sect that can lift Blaze's curse and free him from his dark pact. With the prospect to regain his soul, how could he possibly say "no" to that?
A conflict with the Ghost Rider leaves Carrigan dead. He is resurrected by Rourke as the dreaded Blackout, complete with supernatural abilities to siphon life and to decay anything he touches. A great example of his newfound powers is handled somewhat amusingly: Blackout touches a sandwich and it decays. Then he touches an apple, it too dissolves. Nothing happens when he picks up a Twinkie, affirming that a Twinkie will last forever. In this case, the Twinkie can even withstand evil powers.
The Ghost Rider's new look is awesome, having been modified from the previous picture. This time, the skull is charred black, fierce and menacing. When the Rider sucks the sole of a baddie from him, he is truly a horrific force to be reckoned with. Towers of flames spirals off the Rider like a geyser. The way the Rider's leather jacket smolders, bubbles and smokes is a really great detail I haven't seen in the movies before.
The MTV-like camera work was notably atrocious. Many scenes are presented with animation and other graphics that happen so quickly, when they are over you're not sure what happened. The hip, fluid, linear approach I am sure the filmmakers were going for is completely upstaged by an overstretching of the medium. The effect is dizzying, unnerving and, quite frankly, amateur looking. How about the sound? I half wondered if I was going to be partially deaf for a day after seeing the movie, much like the day after a Motley Crue concert, due to the non-stop barrage of loud action sequences and ear-pounding music. If you want to replicate the effect, just put a metal bucket over your head and let a six-year old drum on it with a pair of mallets.
I'm sure the studio felt there could be no wrong in green-lighting this picture. The 2007 original actually grossed money despite being panned by most critics. This new movie boasts a very impressive screen writing credit: that of David S. Goyer. He is best known as the man who breathed new life into the Batman revision for the films "Batman Begins" (2005) and "The Dark Knight" (2008). Surely, he was believed to be able to reinvigorate the Ghost Rider franchise after its dismal 2007 start.
"Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance" is an un-engaging and un-interesting film that is an incoherent mess. I cannot fathom why anyone thought making this movie could possibly have been a good idea. It's frantic, chaotic and downright ugly. There is no sense of awe or fun, which is something you would want in a comic book based movie. If someone wanted to write a thesis on why they should stop making comic book movies, look no further than "Ghost Rider II."
Monday, August 6, 2012
Church Hopping
(The following comes from Dr. James Emery White. It's just such a good word, that I had to re-post! I really hope this speaks to you, but especially to my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ. Speak, Holy Spirit!)
For the past few summers, we’ve offered Sno-Cones following our weekend services as part of our Guest Services experience. The goal was to give exiting kids a final pleasant memory of their time at Meck (Mecklenburg Community Church), as well as create a “linger” factor for parents to connect with each other and the staff.
This summer, we’ve been offering them as a “surprise” on select weekends, but not every weekend.
“I go to another church,” he continued, “but during the summer I come here for the Sno-Cones. So where are they?”
The volunteer explained to him our current approach to Sno-Cones, and he became rather indignant. “Is there any way you can let people know in advance when it’s a Sno-Cone weekend so that we know when to come?”
I guess people really like crushed ice and syrup.
Let’s talk church hopping, shall we?
Actually, I’m not the one bringing the subject up. It was surprising to find two articles on the matter get picked up and carried nationally – in the same week, no less – this past month.
First, a working definition: church hopping is going from one church to another without committing to any one church for any significant period of time (which makes it different than legitimate church “shopping”).
As Betsy Hart writes, hoppers reflect a growing tendency to decide, after they have officially joined a particular church, that “Oh, that pastor down the street is a little more high-energy than mine,” or “Gee, the music here isn’t really meeting my needs right now,” or “I really am not crazy about that new children’s church director.”
So they hop from church to church.
The hard-core hopper never even makes an initial commitment. They perpetually float between churches, pursuing a Beth Moore study at First Baptist, youth group at First Methodist, weekend services at Hope, Grace, or Community Church, marriage enrichment events at …well, you get the picture.
What’s driving this?
For some, it’s simply the consumer mindset of our culture at work.
As Hart writes, “Church ‘hopping’ is the ultimate ‘all about me’ experience.” They take from various churches whatever it is they perceive to be of value without committing to any one church either to serve or support.
For some, it’s insecurity.
They have to be wherever they think it’s “happening” in the Christian world. I know of pastors who joke about a “migratory flow pattern” among Christians in their community who are constantly church-hopping to the “next” thing in church life.
They move from one church to another, looking for the next hot singles group, the next hot church plant, the next hot speaker, the next hot youth group.
Many times they end up full circle where they began, because their original church suddenly became “next.”
For some, it’s spiritual gluttony.
They want nothing more than to be “fed,” and when they feel they’ve eaten all a church has to offer, they move on where there is the potential for more food – as if that is what constitutes growing in Christ or being connected to Christ.
For some, it’s refusing accountability.
A pattern of sin is pursued, or a choice made, and they leave for a place where no one knows, and no one asks.
For some, it’s avoiding stewardship.
If they are not committed to any one church, there is no obligation to give or serve at any one church. They can float above sacrifice without guilt.
For some, it’s emotional immaturity.
A decision is made they don’t agree with, a building campaign is initiated they didn’t vote for, a staff change is made they didn’t like, so they take their marbles and go play somewhere else.
I know, I know. None of these reflect well on the person leaving, which intimates that anyone who leaves a church is somehow in the wrong, and that is not fair.
In truth, there can be times to not simply hop, but leap. If there is scandal that is simply not addressed, doctrinal heresy, or patterns of abuse, you should leave.
But for the typical hopper, it’s not time for self-justification, but loving admonishment.
First, church isn’t about you. Sorry, but it’s not. It isn’t one of many stores in a mall that exists to serve your spiritual shopping list. Church is a gathered community of believers who are pooling together their time, talent and resources to further the Great Commission.
Find one and start investing your life.
Second, the very nature of authentic community is found in the “one anothers.” Love one another, serve one another, encourage one another; this cannot happen apart from doing life with people.
You need community.
Third, the absence of a ministry you desire may be God’s call on your life to start it, rather than leave to find a church that has it. Remember, every member is a minister, and has been given at least one spiritual gift for service in the life and mission of the church.
Fourth, you aren’t going to agree with every decision the leadership of any church makes, regardless of its structure or decision-making process. You either feel you can trust the character of the leadership, or you can’t.
And being able to trust that leadership doesn’t mean they will always do things the way you think they should. In other words, don’t hop every time you disagree. That’s immature.
(And for goodness sake, don’t stay and pout or politic, either. Either get on board once the decision is made, if it was one that didn’t breach doctrine or ethics, or find a place where you can.)
Fifth, don’t worry about being fed as much as learning to feed yourself. Even more, concern yourself with taking what you already know and applying it to your life, and then helping to feed others who are new to the faith!
Finally, spiritual depth isn’t fostered by satiating your sense of felt needs. It’s receiving a balanced diet of teaching and challenge, investing in service and mission, living in community and diversity that you probably would not select for yourself.
If you simply go to where you are drawn, you will miss out on addressing those areas of life where you are blind.
All to say, if you’re ever at Meck, have a Sno-Cone.
But don’t leave your church to come for it.
Start serving them there.
James Emery White
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
It's All About Tolerance?
Have you scratched your head over the last few weeks and thought, “What in the world is going on?”
Take the Chick-fil-A affair. Why such a cultural firestorm and, clearly, a divide that runs deeper than just gay marriage?
What’s going on is a massive divide about what is meant by “tolerance.”
“Toleration is one of the most attractive and widespread ideals of our day,” writes Alan Levine. “It is ... the predominant ethos of all civilizations in the modern world.”
The degree to which this has become ingrained within our culture was evidenced by Allan Bloom’s observation in his critique of higher education, namely that students have been taught to fear that the great danger is not error, but intolerance.
But this is where the cultural divide is critical to understand.
What, precisely, do we mean by tolerance?
1. Legal Tolerance. The first application of tolerance is legal tolerance. This has to do with basic first amendment rights to believe what we want to believe.
Cries against the legislation of morality, often directed against the infamous “moral majority” of the 1980s, spoke to this aspect of tolerance. Of course, all laws involve the legislation of morality, but the concern is valid – there should be great tolerance for diverse viewpoints and beliefs, as opposed to the stifling of opinion or the freedom to worship as one chooses.
And, of course, nothing in Christianity would advocate the refusal of legal tolerance. Indeed, the Bible is a great advocate of legal tolerance, providing the philosophical basis for much of democracy’s contours of thought.
2. Social Tolerance. The second application of tolerance is social, or cultural, tolerance. This is accepting someone regardless of what they believe. Social tolerance seeks to love others, care about them, and remain open to them relationally regardless of such things as their views, ethnicity or sexual orientation.
Of course, the great ethic of the Bible, not to mention the life-model of Jesus, would espouse this form of tolerance without reservation. If Jesus stood for anything, it was open, loving acceptance of others as people who mattered to God.
Despite their sin, lifestyle or philosophical moorings, Jesus was so relationally welcoming that it earned him a rather bad reputation as being, well, one of them (“friend of sinners,” “drunkard,” “glutton”).
3. Intellectual Tolerance. The third form of tolerance is intellectual tolerance, which is accepting what someone believes as right regardless of what you believe or think is right. Or affirming a lifestyle as good when you do not believe it is good.
And it is only in this sense -- intellectual tolerance -- that Christianity would be considered intolerant.
Jesus did not believe that everything and everyone was right. He did not muddy the waters between acceptance and affirmation. The Bible holds that there is right and wrong, true and false, and is wildly intolerant in saying so.
And it is precisely at this point that the cultural divide is both wide, and superficial.
Not only do many confuse acceptance with affirmation, but they confuse intellectual tolerance with legal or social tolerance.
Even though, in truth, no one believes in intellectual tolerance.
If someone came up to me and said, “I believe that the best way for you to optimize the performance of your laptop is to remove your anti-virus protection, take down your fire wall, open up every email attachment from people and companies you do not know and download as much free software as you can from sites you have never heard of.”
I could easily be tolerant of that person legally, not to mention relationally, without buying into what he says about the way to optimize the mechanical performance of my computer.
I would neither affirm, nor agree, with handling the internet, much less my computer, in that way.
In other words, I can hold to the value that other people have a right to their beliefs, without believing that all points of view are equally valid.
Or be compelled to uphold the pursuit of such beliefs.
Now let’s be more aggressive.
What about speaking out in favor of a particular position?
Should we simply allow for intellectual disagreement, or is there a place for – brace yourself – evangelism, and even a prophetic word of warning?
This is another point of cultural divide. Some would say that being an evangelist is the ultimate affront to the uber-virtue of tolerance. But again, they are not thinking through what they mean by tolerance.
Penn Jillette is the “talkative” half of Penn and Teller, the Las Vegas comedy-illusion team. Penn has been an outspoken atheist. But he posted a video blog on his personal website about a man who gave him a Bible, and his reflection was arresting:
I’ve always said that I don’t respect people who don’t proselytize. I don’t respect that at all. If you believe that there is a heaven and hell and that people could be going to hell or not getting eternal life or whatever, and you think that, well, it’s not really worth telling them this because it would make it socially awkward. ... How much do you have to hate somebody to not proselytize? How much do you have to hate somebody to believe that everlasting life is possible and not tell them that?
I mean if I believed beyond a shadow of a doubt that a truck was coming at you and you didn’t believe it, but that truck was bearing down on you, there’s a certain point where I tackle you. And this is more important than that.
He’s right. It is.
But that doesn’t mean our culture “gets it.” In fact, it doesn’t.
So the next time you wonder what’s going on in our world, remember the deep cultural current that is dividing two very different worldviews:
One believes in truth that is made, and one believes in truth that is found.
And those who believe it is found are finding there is little tolerance – of any kind – for their belief.
Sources
James Emery White, Wrestling with God (InterVarsity).
John Stott, The Authentic Jesus (Marshalls).
Alan Levine, “The Prehistory of Toleration and Varieties of Skepticism,” Early Modern Skepticism and the Origins of Toleration.
Allan Bloom, The Closing of the American Mind.
Jillette, Penn. (2008, December 8). “Penn Says: A Gift of a Bible.” Crackle. Retrieved 2009, March 26
Review of "The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring" (2001)
When one begins to write one's sentiments regarding a movie such as Peter Jackson's adaptation of J.R.R. Tolkien's classic Lord of the Rings trilogy, the main problem isn't having difficulty finding things to remark upon - the main problem is knowing where to begin. The Fellowship of the Ring essentially redefined the term "quality", in its extraordinary ability to vastly succeed the already unreasonably high expectations of audiences and die-hard fans of the novels everywhere.
It becomes difficult to avoid bias by painting the film with outlandish and likely unreasonable praises, but I must confess I could go on for literally pages pointing out how blown away I still am by virtually every aspect of this movie, the first, and in my opinion, strongest (as a film) of the trilogy. So I'll try to keep it concise - Jackson has truly brought the novels to life in a fashion one could never have imaged short of actually seeing it for themselves. The sets and appearance of Middle Earth are among the greatest ever created, an impeccable blend of CGI, constructed sets, and the already breathtaking landscapes of beautiful New Zealand. The beautiful cinematography brings this all to light again, in the best sense of the word - seldom does a movie look so, simply put, beautiful. The costumes and appearances of the various creatures and inhabitants of Middle Earth are once again, mind-blowing - some of the best and most convincing computer generated images are on display in these movies. This is all punctuated by Howard Shore's simply gorgeous and incredibly moving Oscar winning score.
Acting is also simply nothing less than astounding, with every cast member not only seeming torn straight out of the pages of the novels, born to play their role, but also turning out pretty much flawless performances around the board. There are standouts of course, especially Sir Ian McKellan's now career defining turn as the warm yet incredibly wise and powerful wizard Gandalf, Viggo Mortenson's wonderful flawed yet noble hero Aragorn, Sean Bean's excellent and truly touching portrayal of the quintessential flawed male character Boromir, Elijah Wood as the good hearted lead character, the innocent hobbit Frodo Baggins, and Sean Aston as his faithful and loyal companion Samwise, and Christopher Lee as the corrupted and now evil wizard Saruman the White. Then there is of course the absurdly underrated Andy Serkis' mind blowing portrayal of the creature Gollum. Though mainly seen in the next two films, Serkis already manages to make a powerful first impression with his 2 minutes or less of screen time.
Again, it seems entirely fair to say The Lord of the Rings movies are among the greatest movies ever made, for their incredibly detailed attention to the details of Tolkien's novels, and their still-surprising ability to exceed expectations in every possible way in film-making and storytelling terms. This is epic storytelling at its best - if you are among the very few who have yet to see these movies, strongly consider doing so - it will be well worth your while.
It becomes difficult to avoid bias by painting the film with outlandish and likely unreasonable praises, but I must confess I could go on for literally pages pointing out how blown away I still am by virtually every aspect of this movie, the first, and in my opinion, strongest (as a film) of the trilogy. So I'll try to keep it concise - Jackson has truly brought the novels to life in a fashion one could never have imaged short of actually seeing it for themselves. The sets and appearance of Middle Earth are among the greatest ever created, an impeccable blend of CGI, constructed sets, and the already breathtaking landscapes of beautiful New Zealand. The beautiful cinematography brings this all to light again, in the best sense of the word - seldom does a movie look so, simply put, beautiful. The costumes and appearances of the various creatures and inhabitants of Middle Earth are once again, mind-blowing - some of the best and most convincing computer generated images are on display in these movies. This is all punctuated by Howard Shore's simply gorgeous and incredibly moving Oscar winning score.
Acting is also simply nothing less than astounding, with every cast member not only seeming torn straight out of the pages of the novels, born to play their role, but also turning out pretty much flawless performances around the board. There are standouts of course, especially Sir Ian McKellan's now career defining turn as the warm yet incredibly wise and powerful wizard Gandalf, Viggo Mortenson's wonderful flawed yet noble hero Aragorn, Sean Bean's excellent and truly touching portrayal of the quintessential flawed male character Boromir, Elijah Wood as the good hearted lead character, the innocent hobbit Frodo Baggins, and Sean Aston as his faithful and loyal companion Samwise, and Christopher Lee as the corrupted and now evil wizard Saruman the White. Then there is of course the absurdly underrated Andy Serkis' mind blowing portrayal of the creature Gollum. Though mainly seen in the next two films, Serkis already manages to make a powerful first impression with his 2 minutes or less of screen time.
Again, it seems entirely fair to say The Lord of the Rings movies are among the greatest movies ever made, for their incredibly detailed attention to the details of Tolkien's novels, and their still-surprising ability to exceed expectations in every possible way in film-making and storytelling terms. This is epic storytelling at its best - if you are among the very few who have yet to see these movies, strongly consider doing so - it will be well worth your while.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Review of "Batman Returns" (1992)
Batman Returns is not a perfect film in the empirical sense of the word: there really is not quite enough Batman presence, some of the fight scenes (particularly with Catwoman) don't make sense, and some of the plot points are a bit more fantasy than reality (albeit that's probably intentional). But a mathematical stacking of pros and cons is not what makes a film great or horrible, it's the impact of it and the merit of its artistry. In this respect, Batman Returns is a masterpiece.
Tim Burton's major contribution to Batman in general, despite his frustrating insistence on being fascinated with the villains, is giving him back, and refining, his dark nature. Burton, along with Frank Miller's Dark Knight Returns (graphic novel) and a few others, re-imagined Batman into the Dark Knight, perfecting him into the somewhat frightening crime fighter Bob Kane was getting at back in 1939. "Dark" characters are often created by piling on violence, sex, or drug use, but Batman needs none of that to be scary. In fact he's better without it. He's dark because that's what he is, and there's a purity to it that no other super-hero can touch. Tim Burton pioneered this image of him in Batman, then mastered in Returns.
Batman Returns centers around four characters: Batman, Catwoman, The Penguin and Max Shreck. These four principles are the force of this movie, and the film's plot serves as an elaborate character study of each of them. Every one of them is both friend and enemy of each other character at different points of the movie, until the conflict between them throws the plot into a frenzy of senseless mayhem at the conclusion, finally succumbing to the insanity of its principles. For this reason, the ebb and flow of the plot is a bit off-kilter, and that would be a problem if any of those four performances weren't absolutely fabulous. Describing someone's acting never does it any justice, so I won't try to get into details, but it should be noted that all four of them spar with each other at full power.
The Batmobile is back and still kicking, and Burton and company thought of some great ways of tinkering with their toy, none of which I will reveal now. Suffice to say the Batmobile offers up some of the grandest entertainment in the film, involving chase sequences that stand up to this day due to the sheer cleverness of the situation. The Dark Knight's suit is more regal in this one, slightly grayed, taller and less compacted. Batman looks something like a king in his outfit. As for Michael Keaton, he proves yet again why Bob Kane gave him the nod for the role in 1989. It doesn't matter that the man is not all physically imposing, because that face of his looks so terrifying and dark in the Cowl that his presence is magnified two times over. Keaton's rasp is still on point, able to transform his body language and his voice perfectly under the suit. It should also be noted that Burton's Batman is quieter than anyone else's, including Frank Miller's. I love that. Batman is always too chatty everywhere else. As for Catwoman, Batman Returns perfected her. There is no reason to ever do Catwoman again in any work of fiction, because you will never again create a character so fascinating, sympathetic or more tragic. Burton took a nothing character, some one- dimensional sultry cat-burglar, and made her a vicious look at sexism and the persecution of innocence in an ugly, cruel world. Well done.
Danny deVito's Penguin is horribly ugly, completely hate-able, and rather pathetic, which is exactly what they were going for. He's a twisted animal with twice the anger and half the brains, not able to compete with Batman on any real level. But enter Max Shreck, a political monster whom the Penguin happens to have some dirt on, and The Penguin becomes a hand-puppet for Shreck, almost like Max testing to see if he could really make this abomination lovable. He has a mayor in office that doesn't always play ball, so he uses this thing to win the hearts of a Gotham City that is so desperate for hope they will latch onto anything. It's a cruel spectacle executed beautifully, and both actors give amazing turns. deVito will never get the credit he deserves for the film, because he makes you hate him so sincerely you forget to stop hating him when the credits roll. Christopher Walken is chilling, hateful and...(please don't ask me how he did this)...sympathetic. It's impossible to understand, but Walken somehow played Shreck so purely that it's hard not to respect him, even though he is a truly corrupt, twisted creature of a man.
The plot is imperfect, some of the fights are odd, and the plot is as much fantasy as that's possible in a movie set in a city, but it doesn't matter. Four fascinating, complicated characters are set into a boxing ring and told to go at it, and Batman Returns is the result. Not to mention the whole film is anchored by one of the most famous superheros of all time. It's a shame Batman gets upstaged by Burton's fascination with The Penguin, but it's a forgivable mistake in a story that's so deeply affecting, and so dark. That's the key thing Returns has that the original kind of missed: soul.
Tim Burton's major contribution to Batman in general, despite his frustrating insistence on being fascinated with the villains, is giving him back, and refining, his dark nature. Burton, along with Frank Miller's Dark Knight Returns (graphic novel) and a few others, re-imagined Batman into the Dark Knight, perfecting him into the somewhat frightening crime fighter Bob Kane was getting at back in 1939. "Dark" characters are often created by piling on violence, sex, or drug use, but Batman needs none of that to be scary. In fact he's better without it. He's dark because that's what he is, and there's a purity to it that no other super-hero can touch. Tim Burton pioneered this image of him in Batman, then mastered in Returns.
Batman Returns centers around four characters: Batman, Catwoman, The Penguin and Max Shreck. These four principles are the force of this movie, and the film's plot serves as an elaborate character study of each of them. Every one of them is both friend and enemy of each other character at different points of the movie, until the conflict between them throws the plot into a frenzy of senseless mayhem at the conclusion, finally succumbing to the insanity of its principles. For this reason, the ebb and flow of the plot is a bit off-kilter, and that would be a problem if any of those four performances weren't absolutely fabulous. Describing someone's acting never does it any justice, so I won't try to get into details, but it should be noted that all four of them spar with each other at full power.
The Batmobile is back and still kicking, and Burton and company thought of some great ways of tinkering with their toy, none of which I will reveal now. Suffice to say the Batmobile offers up some of the grandest entertainment in the film, involving chase sequences that stand up to this day due to the sheer cleverness of the situation. The Dark Knight's suit is more regal in this one, slightly grayed, taller and less compacted. Batman looks something like a king in his outfit. As for Michael Keaton, he proves yet again why Bob Kane gave him the nod for the role in 1989. It doesn't matter that the man is not all physically imposing, because that face of his looks so terrifying and dark in the Cowl that his presence is magnified two times over. Keaton's rasp is still on point, able to transform his body language and his voice perfectly under the suit. It should also be noted that Burton's Batman is quieter than anyone else's, including Frank Miller's. I love that. Batman is always too chatty everywhere else. As for Catwoman, Batman Returns perfected her. There is no reason to ever do Catwoman again in any work of fiction, because you will never again create a character so fascinating, sympathetic or more tragic. Burton took a nothing character, some one- dimensional sultry cat-burglar, and made her a vicious look at sexism and the persecution of innocence in an ugly, cruel world. Well done.
Danny deVito's Penguin is horribly ugly, completely hate-able, and rather pathetic, which is exactly what they were going for. He's a twisted animal with twice the anger and half the brains, not able to compete with Batman on any real level. But enter Max Shreck, a political monster whom the Penguin happens to have some dirt on, and The Penguin becomes a hand-puppet for Shreck, almost like Max testing to see if he could really make this abomination lovable. He has a mayor in office that doesn't always play ball, so he uses this thing to win the hearts of a Gotham City that is so desperate for hope they will latch onto anything. It's a cruel spectacle executed beautifully, and both actors give amazing turns. deVito will never get the credit he deserves for the film, because he makes you hate him so sincerely you forget to stop hating him when the credits roll. Christopher Walken is chilling, hateful and...(please don't ask me how he did this)...sympathetic. It's impossible to understand, but Walken somehow played Shreck so purely that it's hard not to respect him, even though he is a truly corrupt, twisted creature of a man.
The plot is imperfect, some of the fights are odd, and the plot is as much fantasy as that's possible in a movie set in a city, but it doesn't matter. Four fascinating, complicated characters are set into a boxing ring and told to go at it, and Batman Returns is the result. Not to mention the whole film is anchored by one of the most famous superheros of all time. It's a shame Batman gets upstaged by Burton's fascination with The Penguin, but it's a forgivable mistake in a story that's so deeply affecting, and so dark. That's the key thing Returns has that the original kind of missed: soul.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Review of "Batman" (1989)
On Superman's first major appearance in the original 1979 movie with Christopher Reeve, the "man of steel" saves Lois Lane from plummeting down 900 stories from the top of one of Metropolis' skyscrapers and becoming a human pancake. Lane asks the inevitable question, "Who are you?" Superman's reply is simply "a friend". That's what Superman would say. He probably would not call himself "Superman" lest to seem too aware of his own super magnificence, and thankfully he didn't flex his arms like the ridiculous TV show of the 1950's. Fast forward 10 years. In the film Batman a similar scene occurs at the opening with Batman apprehending some down-trodden baddies. The baddies ask the same question as Lois Lane, but the answer was "I'm Batman". Almost any other response would have been superior: "I'm your worst nightmare.", "You don't need to know my name.", even "I'm Blinky the Killer Clown." But replying "I'm Batman" really was a tip-off that the script still needed serious work, a problem that continues to plague many films produced under the corporate Hollywood system. Having Batman say "I'm Batman" is sort of akin to Dracula saying "I'm the Count!" or worse "I'm a Vampire!" proceeded by a cruel Romanian laugh.
The problem with this movie is that it couldn't quite decide if it was going to be Frank Miller's "Dark Knight", which was more akin to the early 1940's strips by creator Bob Kane, or the campy 1960's show with Adam West climbing up buildings and meeting the likes of Jerry Lewis or Dean Martin on the way to the roof top. If it was trying to be like Miller and/or Kane, it wasn't mysterious enough. If it was trying to be like West, it wasn't silly enough. Certainly Jack Nicholson as The Joker is the inevitable casting choice, and since Tim Burton was at the helm, it seemed like a movie that was aiming for the dark overtones of a Miller and/or Kane story. However, the mystery surrounding the Joker and Batman wasn't quite there.
The main issue is that the movie lacks focus, as if the screenwriters had not quite thought the story through and realized what the themes should be. Miller's "The Dark Knight Returns" may be the best Batman story since Bob Kane, and it certainly is a hard act to follow. Unfortunately, much of the movie is kind of a mess when you see it with a more critical eye. And I never quite felt for the characters in the way I did for the first two Superman movies.
Still, if you have never seen this movie, it is definitely worth a viewing. There are definitely some great moments. Kim Basinger as Vicky Vale is outstanding, and her relationship with Batman (and the Joker) is worth the price of admission. (Ever notice how DC comics' leading ladies' names are often alliterations?) And of course, even with a mediocre script, Nicholson as the Joker is a performance not to be missed. He is one of a few actors on the planet that make a sub-par script seem better.
The problem with this movie is that it couldn't quite decide if it was going to be Frank Miller's "Dark Knight", which was more akin to the early 1940's strips by creator Bob Kane, or the campy 1960's show with Adam West climbing up buildings and meeting the likes of Jerry Lewis or Dean Martin on the way to the roof top. If it was trying to be like Miller and/or Kane, it wasn't mysterious enough. If it was trying to be like West, it wasn't silly enough. Certainly Jack Nicholson as The Joker is the inevitable casting choice, and since Tim Burton was at the helm, it seemed like a movie that was aiming for the dark overtones of a Miller and/or Kane story. However, the mystery surrounding the Joker and Batman wasn't quite there.
The main issue is that the movie lacks focus, as if the screenwriters had not quite thought the story through and realized what the themes should be. Miller's "The Dark Knight Returns" may be the best Batman story since Bob Kane, and it certainly is a hard act to follow. Unfortunately, much of the movie is kind of a mess when you see it with a more critical eye. And I never quite felt for the characters in the way I did for the first two Superman movies.
Still, if you have never seen this movie, it is definitely worth a viewing. There are definitely some great moments. Kim Basinger as Vicky Vale is outstanding, and her relationship with Batman (and the Joker) is worth the price of admission. (Ever notice how DC comics' leading ladies' names are often alliterations?) And of course, even with a mediocre script, Nicholson as the Joker is a performance not to be missed. He is one of a few actors on the planet that make a sub-par script seem better.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Review of "The Bourne Identity" (2002)
With a new Bourne upon us shortly, and per the request of a family member (Hi, Mom!) here are my two cents on this, the first entry in the now smash-hit espionage series. One quick note: I have not read the book series (shocking, I know) so I have no earthly clue how the film compares.
**Minor Spoilers Ahead!**
The Bourne Identity, based on Robert Ludlum's best-selling novel, tells the story of Jason Bourne, a black-ops agent working off the map for the United States government. When a mission goes awry, Bourne (Matt Damon) is left with a blank memory. As he follows the clues to reclaim his...uh...identity, Bourne runs into trouble with the authorities and teams up with Maria (Franka Potente), a transient young woman in whom he finds his only friend. As the two race around Europe, Bourne slowly rediscovers himself, while his supervisors in the U.S. attempt to track him down.
The premise of this film, admittedly, is tried-and-true: placing the audience in the shoes of a character. A la The Matrix, the protagonist here is completely ignorant. Therefore the world and story of the movie can be unfolded and explained without slowing the pace, because information new to the audience is also new to Bourne. When a second confused character (Maria) is introduced, that factor is doubled, permitting Bourne himself to introduce both parties to his knowledge of the espionage world. This method sucks the viewer into the story and creates a greater attachment than in a standard spy flick.
Adding to the attraction of the film is Matt Damon's everyman appeal. Believe me when I say that James Bond this is not! Damon has never been an action hero, nor does he look a stereotypical beefy action star, along the lines of Schwarzenegger. But in this case the casting is perfect, because Bourne himself is uncomfortable in his own body. Damon nails the part by maintaining a paranoid state of mind with perpetually moving eyes and nervous gestures. The German-born Potente is another casting coup, as her unique appearance is a breath of fresh air, eschewing cookie-cutter American beauty for an earthier, healthier doe-eyed look that is refreshingly effective. With a supporting cast completed by such reliables as Chris Cooper, Clive Owen, and Brian Cox, the movie's acting is scarcely noticeable, which creates a "believable" world of espionage.
That world is a paranoid world, one that director Doug Liman (Swingers), cinematographer Oliver Wood (Die Hard 2), and crew represent on screen very well. Wood utilizes constantly moving, often hand-held, cameras, and the editing team of Saar Kline (The Thin Red Line) & Christopher Rouse (The Italian Job) features jumpy, nervous editing, all of which brilliantly emulate Bourne's fragile yet kinetic mental state.
Speaking of The Italian Job, that's a decent comparison for The Bourne Identity. Although the latter is edgier and more complex, both have a European feel, with Bourne's obviously stemming from the entirely European setting. The old-fashioned yet physically beautiful locations are complemented by a rhythmic soundtrack that never soars but frequently hangs and lingers as the story proceeds.
The Bourne Identity is classified as an action flick, but the action is decidedly different than that in other movies of the same genre. Containing very few special effects or CGI, the action centers on motion and pursuit, endowing the film with a edgier, cat-and-mouse, more physical tone that is highlighted by a stellar car chase. Set in the middle of the movie, the sequence featuring a beat-up MG racing through the streets and alleys of Paris is the best cinematic chase since at least The Rock, if not long before that. The cat-and-mouse concept of the entire film is encapsulated in this quality set piece, which is more than just eye candy, serving also as a key turning point in the plot.
With surprisingly little face-to-face conflict present, scenes like this one must infuse the story with suspense, and that they do very well. While developmental parts are naturally but enjoyably slower, an underlying tension drives the entire story. Because it often spontaneously explodes to life early, that possibility persists throughout, moving it along like a people-mover, at a slow and steady pace that doesn't seem dangerous until something goes wrong.
Bottom Line: Rarely does an action-based movie feature such a compelling story and human characters. Five stars and then some for one of the most underrated and best action movies in recent years.
**Minor Spoilers Ahead!**
The Bourne Identity, based on Robert Ludlum's best-selling novel, tells the story of Jason Bourne, a black-ops agent working off the map for the United States government. When a mission goes awry, Bourne (Matt Damon) is left with a blank memory. As he follows the clues to reclaim his...uh...identity, Bourne runs into trouble with the authorities and teams up with Maria (Franka Potente), a transient young woman in whom he finds his only friend. As the two race around Europe, Bourne slowly rediscovers himself, while his supervisors in the U.S. attempt to track him down.
The premise of this film, admittedly, is tried-and-true: placing the audience in the shoes of a character. A la The Matrix, the protagonist here is completely ignorant. Therefore the world and story of the movie can be unfolded and explained without slowing the pace, because information new to the audience is also new to Bourne. When a second confused character (Maria) is introduced, that factor is doubled, permitting Bourne himself to introduce both parties to his knowledge of the espionage world. This method sucks the viewer into the story and creates a greater attachment than in a standard spy flick.
Adding to the attraction of the film is Matt Damon's everyman appeal. Believe me when I say that James Bond this is not! Damon has never been an action hero, nor does he look a stereotypical beefy action star, along the lines of Schwarzenegger. But in this case the casting is perfect, because Bourne himself is uncomfortable in his own body. Damon nails the part by maintaining a paranoid state of mind with perpetually moving eyes and nervous gestures. The German-born Potente is another casting coup, as her unique appearance is a breath of fresh air, eschewing cookie-cutter American beauty for an earthier, healthier doe-eyed look that is refreshingly effective. With a supporting cast completed by such reliables as Chris Cooper, Clive Owen, and Brian Cox, the movie's acting is scarcely noticeable, which creates a "believable" world of espionage.
That world is a paranoid world, one that director Doug Liman (Swingers), cinematographer Oliver Wood (Die Hard 2), and crew represent on screen very well. Wood utilizes constantly moving, often hand-held, cameras, and the editing team of Saar Kline (The Thin Red Line) & Christopher Rouse (The Italian Job) features jumpy, nervous editing, all of which brilliantly emulate Bourne's fragile yet kinetic mental state.
Speaking of The Italian Job, that's a decent comparison for The Bourne Identity. Although the latter is edgier and more complex, both have a European feel, with Bourne's obviously stemming from the entirely European setting. The old-fashioned yet physically beautiful locations are complemented by a rhythmic soundtrack that never soars but frequently hangs and lingers as the story proceeds.
The Bourne Identity is classified as an action flick, but the action is decidedly different than that in other movies of the same genre. Containing very few special effects or CGI, the action centers on motion and pursuit, endowing the film with a edgier, cat-and-mouse, more physical tone that is highlighted by a stellar car chase. Set in the middle of the movie, the sequence featuring a beat-up MG racing through the streets and alleys of Paris is the best cinematic chase since at least The Rock, if not long before that. The cat-and-mouse concept of the entire film is encapsulated in this quality set piece, which is more than just eye candy, serving also as a key turning point in the plot.
With surprisingly little face-to-face conflict present, scenes like this one must infuse the story with suspense, and that they do very well. While developmental parts are naturally but enjoyably slower, an underlying tension drives the entire story. Because it often spontaneously explodes to life early, that possibility persists throughout, moving it along like a people-mover, at a slow and steady pace that doesn't seem dangerous until something goes wrong.
Bottom Line: Rarely does an action-based movie feature such a compelling story and human characters. Five stars and then some for one of the most underrated and best action movies in recent years.
Review of "Piranhaconda" (2012)
"It's the offspring of an unholy union between a piranha and an anaconda."
"...You mean a piranhaconda?"
"...I can't believe you just said that!"
I can't believe I just watched that.
Actually, it's not that bad. In fact, Piranhaconda gives you exactly what you'd expect from a Sy Fy Channel Original Movie produced by Roger Corman. Nothing more, nothing less. Notice, however, that I said "expect." "Expect" doesn't necessarily mean "Want."
Michael Madsen plays a herpetologist who finds a mythical giant snake in Hawaii. When he steals one of the beast's eggs, he incurs the wrath of the killer Piranhaconda. Madsen gets captured by a bunch of money-grubbing kidnappers who also have set their sights on holding a low-budget movie crew for ransom. Of course, the huge monster messes up their plans.
I have to give at least some credit where it's due: compared to most Sy Fy Channel Original Movies, this movie is a step (a slither?) above the rest. Again, this isn't Shakespeare but for the most part it delivers the gory goods. The titular antagonist is certainly something to see. Sadly, but not shockingly, the same cannot be said of Madsen. He is clearly just picking up a paycheck here and he remains ostensibly bored throughout the picture.
"...You mean a piranhaconda?"
"...I can't believe you just said that!"
I can't believe I just watched that.
Actually, it's not that bad. In fact, Piranhaconda gives you exactly what you'd expect from a Sy Fy Channel Original Movie produced by Roger Corman. Nothing more, nothing less. Notice, however, that I said "expect." "Expect" doesn't necessarily mean "Want."
Michael Madsen plays a herpetologist who finds a mythical giant snake in Hawaii. When he steals one of the beast's eggs, he incurs the wrath of the killer Piranhaconda. Madsen gets captured by a bunch of money-grubbing kidnappers who also have set their sights on holding a low-budget movie crew for ransom. Of course, the huge monster messes up their plans.
I have to give at least some credit where it's due: compared to most Sy Fy Channel Original Movies, this movie is a step (a slither?) above the rest. Again, this isn't Shakespeare but for the most part it delivers the gory goods. The titular antagonist is certainly something to see. Sadly, but not shockingly, the same cannot be said of Madsen. He is clearly just picking up a paycheck here and he remains ostensibly bored throughout the picture.
Visually, it doesn't look too bad. With SyFy, you would expect hackneyed editing, scenery that doesn't give a sense of authenticity, dull lighting and awkward camera angles. In regard to those assets though, Piranhaconda is generally one of their better-looking movies. The editing and camera work is mostly focused and the scenery is striking. You'd also anticipate laughably awful special effects. On the other hand, the Piranhaconda looks alright, there are a few moments where it does look fake, but overall it delivers what the film promised(part-snake, part-fish, all killer), it does look menacing and the movements are less choppy than other SyFy creatures, in fact I was impressed at the amazing speed it moved at. My problem with the Piranhaconda wasn't to do with the design this time. It was to do with how it was developed, you don't find out much about its origin and how it came to be in the jungle.
My bottom line: if you're looking for high art you're obviously in the wrong place, but this movie does offer some good moments. Good moments, however, doesn't stop its steam from running out before the final commercial break.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Review of "Toy Story" (1995)
Y'know, I always suspected that my toys were coming to life when I wasn't looking!
In Andy's Room, his toys lead lives of noisy desperation come every birthday and Christmas - no one wants to be one-upped by a new addition to the toy box. Nominally led by Cowboy Woody, Mr. Potato Head, Rex the Dinosaur, Ham the piggy bank, Bo Peep, Slinky the dog and a smattering of other playthings go about their toy business of playing checkers, hanging with the home toys and "plastic corrosion awareness meetings," until Andy's birthday party, when they gather expectantly around a transistor radio, listening to the reports of their toy soldier troops "in the field" (downstairs watching Andy's gift-opening), hoping that no gift will be exciting enough to cause Andy to neglect *them.* There is. His name is Buzz Lightyear, Space Ranger.
Directed by Pixar mainstay John Lasseter, with the voice talents of Tom Hanks (as Woody), Don Rickles, John Ratzenberger (forever Cliff from *Cheers*), R. Lee Ermey, Annie Potts, Jim Varney and Tim Allen (as Buzz), Toy Story is that diamond in the rough that succeeds on all levels – in its animation, storyline, character development, its messages of friendship and self-realization and, most importantly, its entertainment value. The fact that this is an animated feature is incidental.
Up until this movie broke open the visual toy box, from the early 1980's until the release of this film the "Disney Movie" had become synonymous with maudlin messages, redneck fundamentalism, anachronistic family values, boneheaded parents, smart-mouthing youngsters, too-hip-to-be-smart teens and insufferable pets. Though Disney's tyrannical umbrella overarches this film's production studio, Pixar Animation, Toy Story somehow avoids all trace of the three-fingered white glove of The Mouse, which is doubly surprising considering this is Pixar's first feature length film, after years of experimentation.
Sure, there are "messages," but they are heartfelt, rather than maudlin (Woody tells Buzz during Buzz's greatest depression that it matters not what Buzz thinks of himself, what makes him important is what his owner, Andy, thinks of him); there are emotional segments, which are truly heartbreaking, rather than cheesy (when Buzz's escape attempt lands him with a broken arm, proving he is Not A Flying Toy, the lyric, "Clearly I will go sailing no more," launches a thousand hankies); and the portrayal of Andy's family was Pixar's triumphal achievement. Boldly contravening Disney's mainstay at the time of the 1950's nuclear family and Norman Rockwell fantasies, one of the many incarnations of a modern-day family is presented: a single mother with two children, who are neither geniuses nor monsters, just normal children; happy to visit Pizza Planet and disappointed when favorite toys are lost.
Buzz – who believes he is a real life space ranger on a mission to save the universe - become Andy's favorite toy over Woody. The funny thing is: though Buzz believes he is real, he still adheres to toy protocol of "playing inert" when humans are in the area. (Maybe it's instinct?) When he mentions saving a toy from Sid, the vicious boy next door, how does he propose to do it if he is to adhere to the inert protocol? Buzz's ingenuousness regarding his role as a toy infuriates Woody to the point of attempted toy-assassination. Through an eerily similar set of accidents, both he and Buzz become lost and must use teamwork, trust and ingenuity to beat their path back to Andy, which finds them ensconced in scorchingly funny vignettes (Buzz fastening himself in an over-sized seatbelt; both falling in with green, three-eyed aliens; Buzz hyperventilating as "Mrs. Nesbitt"). During a climactic rocket ride, the callback line, "This is not flying - this is falling with style," simply seals this movie's greatness.
At least I now have a plausible explanation as to why my toys always got lost: after going about their toy business, they would just go inert anywhere they happened to be, instead of paying attention to their master's infallible toy filing system….
In Andy's Room, his toys lead lives of noisy desperation come every birthday and Christmas - no one wants to be one-upped by a new addition to the toy box. Nominally led by Cowboy Woody, Mr. Potato Head, Rex the Dinosaur, Ham the piggy bank, Bo Peep, Slinky the dog and a smattering of other playthings go about their toy business of playing checkers, hanging with the home toys and "plastic corrosion awareness meetings," until Andy's birthday party, when they gather expectantly around a transistor radio, listening to the reports of their toy soldier troops "in the field" (downstairs watching Andy's gift-opening), hoping that no gift will be exciting enough to cause Andy to neglect *them.* There is. His name is Buzz Lightyear, Space Ranger.
Directed by Pixar mainstay John Lasseter, with the voice talents of Tom Hanks (as Woody), Don Rickles, John Ratzenberger (forever Cliff from *Cheers*), R. Lee Ermey, Annie Potts, Jim Varney and Tim Allen (as Buzz), Toy Story is that diamond in the rough that succeeds on all levels – in its animation, storyline, character development, its messages of friendship and self-realization and, most importantly, its entertainment value. The fact that this is an animated feature is incidental.
Up until this movie broke open the visual toy box, from the early 1980's until the release of this film the "Disney Movie" had become synonymous with maudlin messages, redneck fundamentalism, anachronistic family values, boneheaded parents, smart-mouthing youngsters, too-hip-to-be-smart teens and insufferable pets. Though Disney's tyrannical umbrella overarches this film's production studio, Pixar Animation, Toy Story somehow avoids all trace of the three-fingered white glove of The Mouse, which is doubly surprising considering this is Pixar's first feature length film, after years of experimentation.
Sure, there are "messages," but they are heartfelt, rather than maudlin (Woody tells Buzz during Buzz's greatest depression that it matters not what Buzz thinks of himself, what makes him important is what his owner, Andy, thinks of him); there are emotional segments, which are truly heartbreaking, rather than cheesy (when Buzz's escape attempt lands him with a broken arm, proving he is Not A Flying Toy, the lyric, "Clearly I will go sailing no more," launches a thousand hankies); and the portrayal of Andy's family was Pixar's triumphal achievement. Boldly contravening Disney's mainstay at the time of the 1950's nuclear family and Norman Rockwell fantasies, one of the many incarnations of a modern-day family is presented: a single mother with two children, who are neither geniuses nor monsters, just normal children; happy to visit Pizza Planet and disappointed when favorite toys are lost.
Buzz – who believes he is a real life space ranger on a mission to save the universe - become Andy's favorite toy over Woody. The funny thing is: though Buzz believes he is real, he still adheres to toy protocol of "playing inert" when humans are in the area. (Maybe it's instinct?) When he mentions saving a toy from Sid, the vicious boy next door, how does he propose to do it if he is to adhere to the inert protocol? Buzz's ingenuousness regarding his role as a toy infuriates Woody to the point of attempted toy-assassination. Through an eerily similar set of accidents, both he and Buzz become lost and must use teamwork, trust and ingenuity to beat their path back to Andy, which finds them ensconced in scorchingly funny vignettes (Buzz fastening himself in an over-sized seatbelt; both falling in with green, three-eyed aliens; Buzz hyperventilating as "Mrs. Nesbitt"). During a climactic rocket ride, the callback line, "This is not flying - this is falling with style," simply seals this movie's greatness.
At least I now have a plausible explanation as to why my toys always got lost: after going about their toy business, they would just go inert anywhere they happened to be, instead of paying attention to their master's infallible toy filing system….
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Review of "Finding Nemo" (2003)
(Though I plan on reviewing Pixar's works in chronological order, this will be my one exception, per a request from a long-time college friend)
The digital realm is easily forgotten when you first lock eyes on the visual wonder created for yet another charming tale from Disney/Pixar Animation. Finding Nemo is Pixar's fifth outing and after a moderately spotless track record they keep this one swimming in a wealth of color and three-dimensional form. Their visual language has proven to be a clear and successful method of storytelling. It captures the imagination and accommodates some fairly decent stories to boot. What setting could be more exciting than Australia's exotic eastern coastline?
However, it's a mix of Pixar's wonderful craft and a well-written story that keeps audiences enthralled, and this time writer/director Andrew Stanton serves up just that, on a silver platter. What remains is the winning formula of comedy and gravity within the screenplay. Stanton has been involved with all the other Pixar features in the past, and it shows. Even deep under the ocean, far removed from the human subtleties that are woven into usual animations, is a rich tapestry of lifelike environments and genuine characters that are easy to connect and relate to. And in the usual Pixar tradition you get a film that bridges the age boundary and becomes wholly enjoyed by all, young and old.
I enjoyed myself for the entire duration of Finding Nemo (that included the final credits). I recommend it to all, no matter what your cinematic preference may be. Besides the lavish visual elements that have made Pixar much admired, this has been a labor of love for Andrew Stanton that started way back in 1992, prior to Toy Story. It's a new development in the path the entire production house is heading. Thomas Newman's involvement in writing music for this project shows us exactly this new direction as his score gives the film a new emotional style. It's also a "new high water mark" for CGI in general. Pixar is now an established force in animation but politely recognizes others in the industry as well. For example, there is the address (amongst other things) Wallaby Way that will be instantly recognizable to Wallace and Gromit fans and a totally tubular Sea Turtle (Crush, voiced by Stanton himself) with a very close resemblance to four post-adolescent martial art amphibian friends of his. There are also plenty of fun references to Jaws, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Monty Python and nearly every previous (and upcoming) Pixar feature. You also have Pixar's own Joe Ranft, who made famous the character of Heimlich the caterpillar from A Bug's Life, making another special appearance as the voice of Jacques the cleaner shrimp. Younger children won't get these in-jokes but for the adults it's a warm welcome. When it comes down to it Finding Nemo is aimed at just about anyone, as long as they enjoy a well-told and inventive story. From the vibrantly lush to the murky dark, this is an absolute lure for the eyes and a catch-of-the-day for the funnybone.
The digital realm is easily forgotten when you first lock eyes on the visual wonder created for yet another charming tale from Disney/Pixar Animation. Finding Nemo is Pixar's fifth outing and after a moderately spotless track record they keep this one swimming in a wealth of color and three-dimensional form. Their visual language has proven to be a clear and successful method of storytelling. It captures the imagination and accommodates some fairly decent stories to boot. What setting could be more exciting than Australia's exotic eastern coastline?
However, it's a mix of Pixar's wonderful craft and a well-written story that keeps audiences enthralled, and this time writer/director Andrew Stanton serves up just that, on a silver platter. What remains is the winning formula of comedy and gravity within the screenplay. Stanton has been involved with all the other Pixar features in the past, and it shows. Even deep under the ocean, far removed from the human subtleties that are woven into usual animations, is a rich tapestry of lifelike environments and genuine characters that are easy to connect and relate to. And in the usual Pixar tradition you get a film that bridges the age boundary and becomes wholly enjoyed by all, young and old.
I enjoyed myself for the entire duration of Finding Nemo (that included the final credits). I recommend it to all, no matter what your cinematic preference may be. Besides the lavish visual elements that have made Pixar much admired, this has been a labor of love for Andrew Stanton that started way back in 1992, prior to Toy Story. It's a new development in the path the entire production house is heading. Thomas Newman's involvement in writing music for this project shows us exactly this new direction as his score gives the film a new emotional style. It's also a "new high water mark" for CGI in general. Pixar is now an established force in animation but politely recognizes others in the industry as well. For example, there is the address (amongst other things) Wallaby Way that will be instantly recognizable to Wallace and Gromit fans and a totally tubular Sea Turtle (Crush, voiced by Stanton himself) with a very close resemblance to four post-adolescent martial art amphibian friends of his. There are also plenty of fun references to Jaws, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Monty Python and nearly every previous (and upcoming) Pixar feature. You also have Pixar's own Joe Ranft, who made famous the character of Heimlich the caterpillar from A Bug's Life, making another special appearance as the voice of Jacques the cleaner shrimp. Younger children won't get these in-jokes but for the adults it's a warm welcome. When it comes down to it Finding Nemo is aimed at just about anyone, as long as they enjoy a well-told and inventive story. From the vibrantly lush to the murky dark, this is an absolute lure for the eyes and a catch-of-the-day for the funnybone.
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