tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88745852499615381382024-03-13T05:31:58.001-04:00Stevie Banks, movie criticStephen Bankshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10822184343035935418noreply@blogger.comBlogger96125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8874585249961538138.post-64141138074405615612019-06-27T04:12:00.002-04:002019-06-27T04:12:24.663-04:00Toy Story 4 (2019)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">OK, so during my analysis of the newest installment in the Toy Story saga, I decided to grant myself a pardon, which allows me to <b>not</b> discuss the animation. At this point, discussing it is basically rote. Yes, it is bright, colorful, and lush, but we're viewing an entry of a franchise, which has been instrumental in building and sustaining the prestige and integrity of an entire film studio, influential on an entire mode of animation, and intriguing to the masses, young and old, simultaneously creating and tapping into our nostalgias.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And...huh? You're asking if</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> <b>I</b> love Toy Story?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Is that even a question?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The first three entries of the <i>Toy Story</i> series equally rank as my favorite PIXAR film of all time. It may not have the flowering, challenging, philosophical conceits of <i>Inside Out</i> or the aesthetic splendor of <i>Coco</i>, but as three films, it exists as a quintessential human interest package. No other PIXAR film compares to these in terms of continuing, bracing narratives, slick, sly, and sprightly humor, and, above all, captivating characters. With any of these films, you are guaranteed one thing: you are going to care about everyone on the screen. Every<u>thing</u> is debatable, but every primary protagonist is crafted with more heart, diligence, and ardor than 95% of characters of most live-action films marketed at adults.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And yes, <i>Toy Story 4</i> has near pitch-perfect levels of cheer, wit, and warmth. It also has a lot more emotional weight this time around...and even produced in me a bit of emptiness.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Que? Bare with me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The plot starts with all of the toys being well-adjusted to their new life with Bonnie, the child they were donated to by Andy in the last movie. She's beginning kindergarten and, like any child, is very worried and apprehensive of it. She finds succor and joy in a craft she made, Forky, a spork with googly eyes, pipe cleaner arms, and popsicle-stick feet. What starts as the best efforts from Woody to include him in the group quickly transitions into being intensely alert and watchful for him. Forky sees himself as trash and constantly attempts to fling himself in trashcans, with Woody constantly throwing him out and keeping him with Bonnie.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This hits its unfortunate acme when the gang goes on a road trip with Bonnie and Forky throws himself out the moving RV's window with Woody also escaping to save him. While he bonds with Forky and explains to him that he is a toy that makes Bonnie feel comfortable and jovial, they soon divert from going back to Bonnie to an antique store where Woody hopes to find Bo Peep after being given away years ago. There, she meets Gabby Gabby, a vintage doll with a broken voice box who envies Woody's functioning voice box and she ensnares the pair to steal his voice box and become a toy worth possessing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This leads to a whole journey with Woody escaping but trying to get back to the antique store, reuniting with Bo Peep and her new sidekick, Officer Giggles, and even Buzz stepping out of the RV to find Woody and ending up meeting two aggressive, violence-happy plush toys at a carnival. All in the name of Forky!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Yeah, if this movie sounds all over the place, it isn't. Emotionally, though, I <b>thought</b> that it initially was.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Everything else was on point to me. The voice actors cozy themselves so seamlessly and euphorically back into their roles that I'm surprised none of them recorded in reclining chairs with cups of coffee swathed in Snuggies. Newly initiated voice actors Christina Hendricks, Keanu Reeves, and fucking Key & Peele (!!!!) all delve into these new characters with child-like anticipation and graciousness. Even Don Rickles is brought back from the dead via archival footage. R.I.P.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This film also might be the funniest of all four entries. Several moments had me screaming in laughter, including one moment that showcases the violent plush toys' propensity to mentally craft and detail incipient acts of violence and a subsequent moment that negates and simplifies their efforts. It also manages to get a few chills in, as well. All I'll say is that if you thought the cymbal-playing monkey from Toy Story 3 was unnerving, then you'll be calling it a day with these Edgar Bergen-era ventriloquist dummies.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Think Dead Silence: The Animated Movie! But without the gore.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">While every other aspect was on point, this film definitely jerked me around emotionally. Not that it submerged me in various lagoons of emotional power and plaintiveness to where I came out drenched and dripping with unforgettable sadness and monumental joy, but that it lead me on a trek in revealing its emotional purpose. For a while, I feared that this was the first moment in the <i>Toy Story</i> enterprise that would emotionally and mentally alienate me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Forky enters the story, perceiving himself as trash and <b>only</b> trash. In this era of heightened awareness and layered dialogues of mental health, I felt that this would be used as the best possible analogy and lesson of self-worth. It would be the most consummate method of doing it, given how much time has passed within the narrative and our social climate. Using an object not typically viewed as a tangible toy, but brings amusement and comfort to a child, but yet it itself only views itself as being confined by standard expectations and can't exceed beyond that, or better yet that it shouldn't, could've come around full-circle as a message on how every individual has worth and provides worth and that you can overcome any dictated confinement.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But while it also is revealed that trash makes Forky comfortable, Woody just kinda uses that as an analogy for how he can be a useful toy and then it's kinda just resolved.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">OK, well...maybe it'll tap in on the unfortunate reality that you can alter your environment, alter yourself, and invest as much focus and effort into an end goal and still have it postponed and delayed further. This is in reference to a later scene, which I will not give away. However, that is resolved rapidly, as well. Given the new characters, some of which are hopeful to be with a child and all of them eager to be played with, I feared but was almost ready to gruffly submit to the fact, that this would be another simple conclusion where Woody was in the unequivocal right.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">In some ways, I thought of this to be derivative of <i>Toy Story 2</i>, what with the internal dilemma of whether security lies in being in a home, but potentially being forgotten, or if it lies in having an ambiguous, yet spontaneous existence outside of a home, and also with Woody receiving a change to his design, which I will also not spoil. And again, with all the new characters, I thought it was going to be even more derivative and everything would be tied up fancily, tamely, and sycophantically.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And then, the twist happens. And I was stunned, emotionally, but yet still felt puzzled and almost beleaguered logically.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Can you deliver such an existentialist moral about purpose and free will and fulfillment and adequately apply it to <b>toys</b>? Clearly, toys are designed to distract or satiate our selfish needs of entertainment, so how can this possibly translate? Easy. These toys, to us, are <b>not</b> just toys. These toys, to our viewpoint, are sentient. They have alive personalities. They go beyond our selfish needs of entertainment and have actually transfixed us with their own quandaries of existence. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But even beyond that, can this go beyond the deep-rooted affinity created for these characters and actually be germane in the real world? And even in the context of the movie, what purpose can they possibly have? And in the end, my intense pondering and pensive hypothesizing is what brought me to the revelation that, in a subterranean way, they gave us their most daring moral to date: Life is not comprised solely of easy answers. Any question that can be raised about the ending, in my opinion, can be rebutted with, "Who knows?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And in a way, I guess you can make a connection to the real world. Think about this. The first three films ended by emphasizing the value of toys on a child and how eager toys are to delivering that fulfillment. I'm sure children saw all of these movies and vowed to cherish their toys more significantly. Well...do you <b>really</b> think that that happened in a zealous, overwhelmingly transformative way? To some of their toys, maybe, but they most likely already had something of a bond with them anyways. To all of their toys, hell no!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Now, those same kids are most likely adults or currently in that ragged process of adulting and are, whether they like it or not, having to take steps that will divorce them from some of the comforts of childhood. What's going to happen? Again, who knows? This film is probably the most humane of the four films because, in one of the most subtle, understated ways, it actually empowers that audience. Instead of teaching them to appreciate the simple, pulchritudinous facets of existence, it challenges them to go on step further: to exist as an individual. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Even at the coda of <i>Toy Story 3</i>, your investment was still primarily with the toys and not with Andy. But with <i>Toy Story 4</i> and how everything shifts drastically, you eventually learn that the most valuable aspect of life is its uncertainty. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Oh yeah, about that feeling of emptiness? I think that's literally a "me" thing. I think that it is a testament to how I have grown with all of these colorful, spirited, admirable characters that a change of the guard like this is not just the end of an arc, but a veritably heartfelt, almost dispiriting ending. To have such a massive motley of characters and be embracing of them and beguiled of them through four movies over a twenty-four year period and still feel such a poignant, intransigent, addicting connection with them just as years prior justifies and denotes the power of a moment such as at the ending. While <i>Inside Out</i> may have the most powerful moral, <i>Toy Story 4 </i>certainly has the gutsiest. Admittedly, that forlorn sense of emptiness kinda detaches me from it ever so mildly, which is why I don't send it up to the same echelon as the first three, but again, that's a "me" thing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">If I'm having such a gut reaction and an unnerved, anxious, quasi-paranoid concern for characters as these, then they will always have a friend in me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But yeah, go again and make <i>Toy Story 5</i>! See what happens, burros!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">RATING: Four out of four stars!</span><br />
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Stephen Bankshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10822184343035935418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8874585249961538138.post-69222187236324928912019-04-18T05:36:00.000-04:002019-04-18T05:36:02.710-04:00Shazam (2019)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You know, existing in a classification of mammals that are prone to rushing, discerning thoughts and gross, ignorant misconceptions makes me realize how valuable a simple slice of humble pie with a cherry of re-evaluation on top can be. With that said, I'd like to offer an apology to director David F. Sandberg, regarding his newest film, Shazam!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You see, <i>The Tick</i> may not have been the first bit of entertainment on television or on cinemas to approach the superhero genre with a more punctuated focus on comedy, but its placement is so key and unique in the 90s television cartoon renaissance and its influence has endured so prevalently that whenever I see a new bit of entertainment, utilizing a comedic bent for the superhero story, I immediately think of it trying to approach the same territory that <i>The Tick</i> paved. And this is coming from someone with only a base knowledge of the show.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But there's more going on here, because this is a DC property. Or, as I call it, "D-See, We're Marvel, Right? We're Marvel, Right? No, Seriously, Are We Marvel Yet?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Whatever appraisals you wish to hurl at DC and their head brass trying embarrassingly to compete with Marvel, but having very few efforts approach that same level of commercial viability, artistic audacity, and sheer audience invigoration, I think we all observed the marketing for <i>Shazam</i> and had the same thought it mind: Someone <b>really</b> wants to be <i>Deadpool</i>. Of course, this is DC, so it wouldn't dare have our main character drop a F-bomb or, I dunno, sexualize his college-bound, foster sister. PG-13 for the win, y'all!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">So, given how these properties are so inescapable and so indispensable, I figured that this had the potential to be a desperate, comedic disaster, affirming DC Films to be a bunch of Marvel stans and adding on another character in the DC Cinematic Universe in the line-up of DC heroes put through the most desultory, lukewarm stories. Well, to David F. Sandberg, not only do I apologize, but I also grovel at your feet.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Time for movie review mode! Shazam!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The movie revolves around Billy Batson, a child placed in a group home after repeatedly running away from foster care. While he's rapt with the pursuit of trying to find his birth mother, whom he was separated from at a very young age, he forms a bond with the foster children, particularly Freddy, a superhero enthusiast. One day, he is summoned by a wizard Shazam. He is the last surviving member of the Council of Seven Wizards, he is growing more frail, and is looking for a body to carry on his powers, someone pure of heart.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Billy is chosen and he soons embodies the powers, as well as the grown adult body, of Shazam the superhero. Everytime he says "Shazam," he can transform back and forth between a young boy and a superhero. With the help of Freddy, he discovers the extent of his powers and becomes a celebrity. However, a hero's only as good as its villian. Enter Thaddeaus Sivana, who was originally summoned by Shazam as a child, but was deemed to be unfit to inherit his powers because he wasn't pure of heart. As an adult, he manages to confront Shazam, steal the Eye of Sin, and vows to take Shazam's powers for himself.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">For superhero movies, there is a bit of a template. In the 2000s, the first act was heavily dedicated to the origins of the superhero. In this current decade, we've already become familiar with these characters, so it seems that nowadays, superhero films, particularly in the MCU, set up the conflict and personalities in the first act. It's always particularly noticeable, as it should, because it's a tried-and-true way to delineate and distinguish the narrative. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">With <i>Shazam</i>, I was surprised how differently the first act flowed. It could be attributed to the fact that I didn't pay attention to the marketing all that intently, but I liked how the film connotes the implications and connections to the plot during the first act. I didn't immediately know how everything connected until the end of the first act. For example, Thaddeus' backstory opens the film, but the conflict and the reasons for villianry are saved until about thirty minutes into the film. By this point, we actually have spent more time on Billy's development as a character, as well as his fair plight of finding his mother, an action that presents some significant and effective pathos, specifically in how that plotline wraps up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It also doesn't leave the other children out to dry. All of the adoptive children are written appeallingly and distinctly. Eugene, portrayed by Ian Chen, manages to deliver a few spirited quips. Mary, portrayed by Grace Fulton, is not the overly-bossy eldest, but rather a vivacious, yet insecure and wistful young girl preparing for college and her character is handled with a precise tenderness. Darla, played by Faithe Herman, balances unbridled innocence and ebullient awareness, while never treading into overly-spunky grounds. Even the adoptive parents are portrayed so straightforwardly gentle and cheery, but in such a grounded manner that you can't help but like them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Freddy, however, portrayed by Jack Dylan Grazer is not just the stand-out of the foster children, but possibly of this whole film. Maybe I was impressed by Grazer's unrelentingly hermetic comic timing, which he didn't get to utilitze too much of in <i>It</i>, another strong film he was in. Or maybe I just adored his character portrayal from screenwriter Henry Gayden. On one hand, Freddy's the token nerd character. On the other hand, he's the token smartass kid. The way Gayden amalgamates the two archetypes into one lively, smart-alecky, sharp character is at both times subversive of archetypes and subservient to what we expect both character types to be.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Of course, such a spirited lead character and his older self deserve spirited actors to portray them. Disney Channel actor Asher Angel is the perfect unassuming hero as Billy, portraying him with such ease and earnestness. Zachary Levi makes a welcome return to Hollywood as a leading man in probably the unlikeliest of roles. It speaks to how much a good sport Levi is to be able to dilute his masculinity, whilst maintaining his feeble everyman sensibilities, all in the name of getting a laugh, yet still spritzing charisma off the screen.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Oh, and getting a laugh? This film gets quite a bunch. In fact, the comedy is where the film truly excels, above all. I laughed so many times throughout the film that it wasn't even worth noting all the specific lines and gags. The film is definitely a modern film and it definitely wants to achieve what <i>Deadpool</i> did, but the movie it actually resembles more is <i>Big</i>, right down to a three-second homage to the piano floor bit. In fact, the alchemy between Freddy and Billy and the feel of the school scenes are reminiscent of an 80's John Hughes film. It's kind of refreshing every now and then to see a comedy that isn't gleeful in its tastelessness, but moreso gleeful in its...glee.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">On the visual level, DC actually is up to par with Marvel for this movie because the imagery and CGI is alive, colorful, and spirited, shot with some surprisingly welcoming slo-mo cinematography and 3D-esque close-ups, and filmed in sumptuous, gloriously gothic set pieces. The Rock of Eternity is beautifully realized with as much richness, resonance, and mood as the Batcave, maybe even more.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I guess if I had to quibble, I'd say that the final battle went on a little too long. I'd also say that sometimes I thought the story veered breathtakingly close into absurdity. I conceal everything that need be, but despite that the Seven Deadly Sins are portrayed the same in its original comic, I personally found the whole aspect of "releasing the Seven Deadly Sins" pretty simplistic and ludicrous. Plus, the last shot is cringe-inducingly lame and irritatingly meta. However I say "veer," because during the rare occasions that made me roll my eyes, it compensated me and immediately got back on track with enough humor, splendor, and soul to win me back.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And that's what distinguishes an adored DC film from a DC film to be admonished: soul. It doesn't matter that you got to see your pedantic, fanboy wet dream put on the big screen (i.e. <i>Batman v. Superman</i>). It didn't matter how many villians you got together (i.e. <i>Suicide Squad</i>). It didn't natter how many heroes you got together (i.e. <i>Justice Squad</i>). Those movies were seen as turgid tranquilizers of cinema. This movie will be viewed as having portrayed Shazam's soul and having brought soul back to DC Films.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">So you see kids, in the end, the black wizard's magic lived on...through a white person.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">*cues Childish Gambino*</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This is America!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">RATING: Three-and-a-half stars out of four</span><br />
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Stephen Bankshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10822184343035935418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8874585249961538138.post-20049622464685626542019-04-10T20:32:00.001-04:002019-04-10T20:32:25.733-04:00Five Feet Apart (2019)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><i>Foreword: Q: Stephen, what's your excuse for your absence <b>this</b> time?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><i> A: Life's a bitch. Next!</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">OK, I sure didn't except to almost owe someone an apology.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">When I first saw the advertisements for <i>Five Feet Apart</i>, I expected it to be another <i>Fault In Our Stars</i> clone; a movie trying to capitalize on the emotional platform that that movie provided, but without the grace and genuineness that inculcated <i>Fault In Our Stars</i> into the zeitgeist. If bombs such as<i> Midnight Sun</i> and <i>Everything, Everything</i> are any indication, then <i>Fault In Our Stars</i> might just be the <i>Love Story</i> of our generation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Above all, I anticipated that I would be categorizing it as a Just Die Already Movie. Yes, in the same vein Roger Ebert provided humorous sobriquets to narrative types and tropes, I decided to partake in the same practice. When I use the term, "Just Die Already Movie," you probably have evoked memories or ideas of movies involving either a love interest or overall main character succumbing to a tragic illness. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And while that is the overall outline, the impetus that sparks a Just Die Already Movie is when a movie is so manipulative, so laborious, and has so little regard for the reality of the illness and more of a regard for bludgeoning the easiest of emotions out of the audience.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Two examples of Just Die Already Movies are 2011's <i>A Little Bit of Heaven</i>, with its smug, haughty, lackadaisical, and treacly approach to the topic of love while diagnosed with cancer, and 1982's <i>Six Weeks</i>, which used a sick child as a lifeless, obsequious figurine for the screenplay to navigate itself through an empty, virtually non-existent story, slathering itself in egregious cliches and shameless bathos.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Quick message for the filmmakers of both those movies and to all others that may potentially make this mistake: being offensive <b>and</b> boring is a lethal combination. So, for <i>Five Feet Apart</i>, I felt that the only distinction would be the disease at hand, cystic fibrosis, and nothing else. Surprisingly, however, the film turns out to be a meditative look into the disease, a portrayal of the delicacy of the condition and how it affects the people afflicted with it and their relationships with others, and a tender, subtle love story between two individuals trying to live before it's their time to die. I'll say it. It won me over...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">...almost.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The movie revolves around Stella. She has cystic fibrosis and spends her days in the hospital, awaiting the possibility that she may receive a lung transplant. All the while, she posts vlogs online about her condition and her day-to-day life coping with it and interacting with the nurses, including her most dear nurse friend, Barbara, as well as her friend and fellow patient, Poe. One day, she meets Will, a patient also stricken by cystic fibrosis. While Stella is adamant and obsessive with her daily regiment and making sure she takes her medications, Will seems to be oddly passive of any danger and doesn't prioritize his medical self-care. This leads to a barter between the two: Stella will advise and counsel him on his daily regiment, if she lets Will, an artist, draw her. Their bond becomes thicker, which leads to them beginning a courtship, all done five feet apart from each other. Will they grow closer or further?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">First and foremost, I must begin by clarifying and revealing what I'm sure people are anxious to hear. This film, for the most part (we'll get to that later), doesn't trivialize cystic fibrosis. In fact, I was surprised that first-time director Justin Baldoni and up-and-coming screenwriters Mikki Daughtry and Tobias Iaconis had the decency to showcase actual details about how cystic fibrosis affects these patients, as far as their routines go. It shows the medications, it shows the scars, it shows the infections and it does this not to sensationalize, but to relay the point that the illness at hand isn't just coughing, brave faces, and nose tubes. There is a death scene in the film, but in a subversive turn, the film (spoilers!) doesn't kill off either of the two leads. This is practically an anomaly in movies of this type, but it is a inspired surprise and a heartbreaking bit of realism. Death isn't timed for a sentimental conclusion. It's unexpected, sudden, and achingly sad. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The film does have some funny moments, but they never feel contrived or divorced from the film's emotional intent. The comedy is humorous, but is excruciating and elegiac in nature. It's not levity-for-levity's sake, but rather it is adding to the film's impact and investment.</span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Also, props should be given to the cinematography by Frank G. DeMarco. At its nature, the film is brilliantly shot because the location is the hospital. With the exception of one other place during the end, the film takes place <b>solely</b> at this hospital, which adds to the melancholic feeling of entrapment and desperation that all of these characters are feeling in some way. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Additionally, however, DeMarco manages to add some poetic, poignant visual touches, like when Stella is in surgery to have a new tube put in and she's transported into a colorful painting that she has on her wall. Even better is when Stella and Poe see each other after a front and the camera cuts back and forth between them, but shot far away, further adding to the aesthetic and thematic crucialness pertaining to the characters being at least six feet apart from each other.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Admittedly, most of the film relies on the charisma of the actors, because, let's face it, these characters themselves aren't original. Stella is the sweet, down-to-earth girl, torn apart by a tragedy in her life, who learns to let her guard down and not live a life of excessive planning and restrictions. Will is the detached, quasi-rebel, whose pursuit of love teaches him to value life and gives him a purpose. The film even shoehorns in the gay best friend and the sassy, warm-hearted black nurse. While Kimberly Herbert Gregory is an appealing actress and is perfectly avuncular as Barbara, the black nurse in question, the film merely ensnares her to be solely a cliche. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">However, Moises Arias, better known as Rico from <i>Hannah Montana</i>, continues his streak of effective adult roles, playing Poe. He's frail and sullen, but still manages to hook you to his character with this trademark smile and his joyous warmth. Will's brazen defiance actually translates out to be an extreme embrace and fear of uncertainty, thanks to Cole Sprouse's winning performance (two Disney Channel stars in a film about cystic fibrosis). Up-and-comer Haley Lu Richardson may have just hit breakout status playing Stella, giving a heart and a personality to her frenzied, manic behavior. Her genuine anguish makes it all the more heart-wrenching and convincing. The dichotomy between Sprouse and Richardson is to be expected, but the actors themselves have wonderful chemistry, all the while remaining five feet apart, one foot less than recommended, in order to take something back that the disease stole from them. All of these actors take these archetypes and flesh them out into relatable individuals.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I cared about these characters. I was invested with them. I laughed with them. I was worried for their safety. Throughout the film, I was surprised that, through a barefaced but observant handling of cystic fibrosis and through amiable characters, the film overcame the obstacle of being a Just Die Already Movie. I even suspended my disbelief that hospital security really seems to suck, because half of the actions that the characters do would never be allowed. I was with it...and then it lost me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It seems that, during the last twenty minutes, the aforementioned screenwriters were worried that they would lose that teen crowd, so they decided to morph into the exact movie I was afraid it was going to be. All of the cliches stormed in like a football team, each as shopworn and mawkish as the next. The writers copped out and opted for an emotional simplicity that would appease fourth-graders. It rushes narrative aspects, while droning on emotional ones. I couldn't believe how rapidly and unconvincingly one crisis was solved. Without giving it away, it boils down to "I don't wanna do it!" "Do it!" "OK."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It actually was at this point when I realized that one problem the movie had was its editing. The film could've used about twenty minutes cut from it, because the emotional moments near the conclusion are so plodding and so padded out. Any glimpse of an emotionally serviceable moment is immediately undercut by something so wishy-washy. The editing is flawed beforehand, too. While the scene where Will and Stella look at each other's scars is certainly a powerful moment, I feel that the movie expected it to be a cultural landmark to behold time and time again, because they hold on it a bit longer than needed. And the way they reiterated the narration from the beginning to recontextualize it in the most obvious of ways was so manipulative that, at that point, I tapped out mentally. At that point, cystic fibrosis transmuted into a game of hot potato, being passed around for each emotional arc it needed to reach. I may have extolled the movie for maturely and naturally handling death, but at that point, after the sluggish, drawn-out final act, I almost felt cheated that the main characters stayed alive. At least, there would've been an emotional pay-off on some level.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But how do you rate a movie like this?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Well, I have a personal principle that an ending can only drop a film one star from my perceived rating at the time. However, there's more to my reaction of this film. A while back, when I reviewed <i>My Little Pony: The Movie</i> and I discussed how there's at least 50% of the film I find enjoyable, I concluded that I was amused, but not entertained. Distracted, caught off-guard, yes, but there was nothing substantial that stuck. Here, I <b>was</b> entertained. So, I guess now I need to distinguished between being entertained and being fulfilled. I was appreciative and magnetized by a lot of the movie, but it didn't fire on all cylinders. The movie gripped me, then let me go earlier than I desired. It's like someone prepared a wonderful hearty meal for me, let me devour my thick, juicy roast beef and then threw out my rice, veggies, soup, and bread before I even got a chance to taste it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">CBS Films may be a mixed bag, producing critically acclaimed works (<i>Seven Psychopaths</i>, <i>Inside Llewyn Davis</i>), forgettable fillers moreso fit for the ether than the multiplex (<i>Extraordinary Measures</i>, <i>The To-Do List</i>) or outright duds (<i>Beastly</i>, <i>The Back-Up Plan</i>), but that means it's not impossible for them to make a solid film. Even if they shaved off ten minutes, they could've had a fine movie with a limp end. However, when it comes to a quality film this time around, much like Stella and Will, it seems they kept a reaching distance from that possibility.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Also, whoever was in charge of arranging the music for this film deserves a demotion. Burn every ounce of those stultifying, lifeless, emo tunes. Burn them! BURN THEM ALL, I SAY!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">RATING: Two-and-three-quarters stars out of four</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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Stephen Bankshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10822184343035935418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8874585249961538138.post-39103393347252999352018-11-09T03:54:00.002-05:002018-11-09T04:06:01.883-05:00Mid-90's (2018)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"Now, Jonah, a lot of people are going to touch on your weight tonight, but not enough to talk about what an asshole you've become."</span></blockquote>
- <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Nick Kroll at the Comedy Central Roast of James Franco</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Was he <b>ever</b>?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I did research a bit, for the fuck of it, to see if there was any dramatic, underground controversy or any specific, scurrilous statement that showed even a whit of him displaying his potential of being the next Christian Bale. All I found were from uncertain, unsubstantiated forum threads and some random post from BuzzFeed, which...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">...yeah, sounds about right. It seems that the paltry, nugatory handful of grievances I found against Jonah Hill was that he's too serious in person, but isn't that his right? After <i>Superbad</i> skyrocketed him to success as the fat, nerd-looking, stoner man-child, branded that image on him, and then plummeted his career when he couldn't keep the schtick vital and fresh any longer (i.e. <i>The Sitter</i>), he had to do something to revive and sustain his career.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So, if it means making <b><u>OSCAR-NOMINATED FILMS</u></b> with Brad Pitt and Leonardo DiCaprio and comedic film reboots of television shows to keep his rent steady and his prospects versatile and fruitful, wouldn't that be a better alternative than to just go and make, I don't know, <i>The Sitter Returns</i>? However, if there's any point during Hill's career where he can be found at his most serious, it's in 2018.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Outside of being on Vanity Fair's best dressed list (jeez, talk about being reformed), Hill, in the midst of the 2010s rapidly coming to a close in due time, has decided to bring us back to a time that feels so foreign, yet so identical.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Welcome to the <i>mid-90's</i>!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The film revolves around Stevie (hey!), a lonely 13-year-old boy in an undetermined grade level of school, although it is possible that it just might be middle school. His mother is doting, caring, and loving, but tends to focus more on her own sexual escapades, and his brother is an angry, abusive force of fear and intimidation. At a skateboard shop, he manages to creep his way into a crass, juvenile conversation between four skater boys: Ray, Reuben, Fourth Grade, and Fuckshit (yeah, really!). They take Stevie under their wings, which leads him to a sundry of social shenanigans and a closeness and companionship that he'd been looking for.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The exhilaration I got from watching this movie came from such an aesthetic and emotional sense. Hill's projection of the mid-90's is virtually flawless. I was born in 1996, so my knowledge of mid-90's culture from fresh eyes is not the most reliable, yet I can recall all of this. One ingenious gateway to the period that Hill uses is the soundtrack, which is phenomenally pristine and uniformly necessary. It blends 90s hip-hop, alt-rock, and even current, original pieces by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross. It's such a blast to the past that the songs used aren't exactly fragmented, rather they seem spliced as if it were a Movie Maker compilation video with each song starting immediately after the former has ended.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">However, while the feel of nostalgia for the 90's is masterful, I, again, am looking at from the perspective of an outsider. I can recall all of this, because I knew these characters even in the mid-2000s: the skateboarders that rambled on with their discursive small-talk, virtual stubbornness to distance themselves from that pothead mold, their shallow insults, their empty yet carefree attitudes, and their propensities to lure in a young child to attempt to mirror their displays of destructive adolescence, perpetuating the cycle, yet empowering the child. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And that child, in whose eyes we see the film through, is Stevie, who is one of my favorite protagonists in any film period, mainly because in a way, I was him. His naivete, his alacrity and giddiness in being involved in discussions with the older kids, his beginning habit of embarrassing himself, his confusion via all the mixed messages his receives; all of that I identified with as a middle-schooler trying to mesh with the sacred, towering high-school students.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Except when it came to sex, he lucked out before I did. Lucky bastard!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This rapport with the older skateboarders and his effervescent determination to stand toe-to-toe with them leads to some moments of quiet power, such as Ray and Stevie saying nothing to each other, as Ray drills wheels on a new skateboard for Stevie in an unofficial initiation and token of growth, or even a rare moment of tenderness between Stevie and his brother, which displays the dichotomy of each one's relationship with their mom and almost offers a mentoring hand, before internally realizing that his credibility as a mentor to Stevie is ludicrous.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">There are times where it seems that writer/director Jonah Hill delitescently uses the amalgamation of the redolent ambiance and the borderline plaintive content for further narrative potency. The opening credits showcase a rite of passage of sorts, as Stevie experiences the rush of intruding his brother's bedroom, leading him to right down every 90s hip-hop CD that his brother currently owns. The scene where Stevie and the gang are at a house party seems to showcase a jarring, misguided lifestyle and offset that with hazy, flute music that is a mixture of classy decadence and shrill danger. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And cinematographer Christopher Blauvelt is there to document all of it. His camera work in this film is intimate and searingly perceptive. When Blauvelt desires to project awe of this period and this environment, he widens his scope, leering and analyzing the world from a distance. When he needs to investigate and navigate the characters, he is so up close and personal, as to almost make the actors emotionally crack.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">On the subject, the actors are all pure naturals. Sunny Suljic plays Stevie with a tragic isolation and a quiet observance that is uniquely his own for his character. Katherine Waterson portrays Stevie's mom as almost an innocent bystander with a myriad of skeletons in her closet. She has an innocent, forlorn nature, where it seems that the more she tries to exist as a loving mother, the more she withdraws into her own melancholy. It's an almost understatedly devastating performance. Lucas Hedges stunningly walks the tightrope between disgusting malice and begrudging vulnerability as Stevie's brother and Na-kel Smith, Gio Galicia, Ryder McLaughlin, and Olan Prenatt round out the cast as Ray, Reuben, Fourth Grade, and Fuckshit respectively, all grappling with their bleary, undetermined futures, but masking their angst and insecurities under sharp tongues and drug-induced laughs.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">As a writer, Jonah Hill knows how to feel the moment. It's ironic that Harmony Korine makes a cameo in this film, because of all the 90s cinematic influences, he seems to balance the conversational realism of <i>Kids</i> and <i>Gummo</i> (both penned by Korine) with the grimy gut obliteration of movies like Singleton's <i>Boyz n the Hood</i>. Given that last comparison, it's astounding that Jonah Hill has enough profundity and empathy to not take the moral high ground and censure the hip-hop culture. It showcases those who worship the music, but misunderstand the message.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">As a director, Hill knows how to <b>project</b> the moment. That's what you see with his actors, his cinematographer, his composers, his sound editors, etc. They don't try to convey or replicate the moment, but they merely let the moment approach the audience, whatever it is. By the ending of the film, the gang is watching Fourth Grade's short film, re-contextualizing and recapping all of their antics, and in a broader sense, the actual film. Then, the credits roll.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But we know, the film hasn't ended. It just stopped. We know there's more of an ending somewhere. There must be a true conclusion to this story. What could it be? The frightening part is that we don't know. And the brilliant part is that we don't know. Sure, a youth-fueled life of hedonistic fun and self-fulfilling minutiae can be refreshing in retrospect and <b>especially</b> in the moment, but how can you evolve if your goals and expectations don't exceed past that? Certainly, you can't, but <b>do</b> these characters ever find their ways for the better?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We don't know, because Jonah Hill's <i>mid-90s</i> isn't about easy answers, life-affirming resolutions, or lapses of plot to provide a temporary moment of crisis or conflict. It's about the search for purpose, loss of innocence, and one boy's attempt to find one man to look up to. And I loved every moment of it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">RATING: Four out of four stars!</span></div>
Stephen Bankshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10822184343035935418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8874585249961538138.post-47105379958271117782018-10-31T05:54:00.000-04:002018-10-31T05:54:57.340-04:00First Man (2018)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Thinking back on prior moviegoing experiences, I've been lately reminiscing on 2014's <i>Whiplash</i> and how much of a exhilarating, full-bodied, robust, palpable work of film it was, successfully selling me on the appeal of both Miles Teller and Damien Chazelle. Spectacularly, while neither of them walked away with an Oscar, they seemed to both be affected the most by the reception of <i>Whiplash</i>, in terms of clout and adulation. After Whiplash, they were truly ready for the major leagues.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Miles Teller did this... by seemingly squandering and/or under-utilizing his talent in films such as <i>Fantastic Four</i>, <i>War Dogs</i>, and <i>Home of the Brave</i>. His draw was that he was a tangible actor, but he was being pushed for stardom; a bid that wasn't dramatically disastrous, but I never <b>can</b> look at him on screen and feel the same full-blooded enthusiasm I used to feel. Thankfully, in terms of Damien Chazelle, he, then and now, realized that influence could only slimly get him by. What mattered was his content and vision. Sure, <i>La La Land </i>proved that he could <b>almost</b> win an Oscar by making an old-fashioned, evocative, frothy musical film, but could he successfully branch out into a suspenseful, verging-on-being-epic pedigree of film?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Well, he sure as hell makes a valiant attempt, telling the story of the <i>First Man</i>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">That "first man" in question is Neil Armstrong, the first man to walk on the moon. After a mishap as a test pilot and reeling after a personal family tragedy, he decides to apply to Project Gemini, which was trying to beat the Soviet Union in the space race and send us to the moon. The film chronicles the intense planning, rigorous attempts, fantastic close-calls, up until the climactic moon landing, as part of the Apollo program, while detailing all the emotional stresses and losses among the families.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The film's opening shot both showed the film's potential and concerned me, as to what I was afraid the film could've been with uncertain, reticent direction. It establishes the pervasive feeling of isolation and rapid hazard, fraught with some of the most aggressive, unremitting, and assaulting shaky cam I've seen in years and the eyes of Armstrong, seething with malaise and heightened embarrassment. As a test pilot, he bounces his fighter jet off the atmosphere, which gets him grounded.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I was apprehensive, because I thought that the intrigue and human interest of Armstrong would be cherry-picked and boiled down to some insultingly simple, psuedo-inspirational, excessively sentimental narrative. Chazelle clearly does want to modulate the heroism of Armstrong, but he does this not through any mandated story arcs or Hollywood contrivances, but through humanity, which is what carries the film. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As engaging as his journey of dedication and merely doing his job is, the most touching sequences involving Armstrong are centered around him mourning his young daughter. I loved watching him interacting with her in the beginning, stroking her hair with initial, loving tenderness, but seems to strike a devastating tone of finality and tragic attachment as the film proceeds. In the subsequent funeral scene, Armstrong struggles to keep a stony face at her funeral, but forcibly sobs behind closed doors in a specifically plaintive moment. As well, the most memorable, sobering moment of the moon landing sequence involves Armstrong letting his daughter's bracelet slip out of his hand and into darkness, all portrayed with a potency and gravitas that nearly left me in tears.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">For all the talk about it being about the "first man," I would've personally called this "First Men," because while Armstrong seems to be in the middle of this cinematic venn diagram, the film gives equal attention to all the astronauts. It doesn't depict them in broad clichés and while the film bequeaths many of them with melancholic fates, it doesn't write them as melancholic figures. There are many scenes of genuine camaraderie between Armstrong, his fellow astronauts, and their families. The film manages to intertwine NASA lives and personal lives naturally and you become so invested that you can actually name and <b>mourn</b> the men who slowly get picked off, one by one.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">However, if you <u>are</u> going to make a movie called <i>First Man</i>, you need a <b>damn</b> good one. And Ryan Gosling? Yeah, he'll do.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Gosling portrays Armstrong as an benevolent Everyman with both an external, unwavering, committed courage and a desperate, internal sensitivity. He has no time to waste, lacks any sort of predisposition for quitting, and feels like he must shut off any emotional weakness to be a hero to his children. I'm not quite sure if Gosling will receive Oscar consideration for this role, but if he does...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">...you might to also guide some of that over to Claire Foy, who gives the stand-out performance as Neil's wife. She's cold and harshly quiet, but that's the magnetism and addictive power of her character. Watching the film, <b>she</b> truly is the backbone of the household, because in all actuality, she carries most, if not all, of the burden as a homemaker. She has no position to break down and even if she did, it would have little value. She cries once throughout the film early on and that's it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This sort of domestic pluckiness and staunch grit juxtaposes beautifully against Gosling's soft, composed attitude in a scene where Armstrong's wife demands him to explain to his two sons that this mission might be his last. While the scene doesn't pay off as well at it initially establishes, the interplay between the struggle to keep confident and collected on his part and the struggle to preach reality on her part is an explosive, propulsive, captivating moment. In addition, they share a emotionally spare and quiet, yet mentally, analytically complex exchange for the final shot. They don't utter a word, yet every liberating, painful, and gentle thought is shared amongst each other with ferocious purpose.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Chazelle isn't going to wow in the field of special effects, nor should you expect any manufactured thrills, but what Chazelle specializes is in craft. This film shows a departure from a typical music-inspired narrative and yet he still shows a whopping amount of prudent instinct in that field, thanks to our old, Chazelle-film friend, Justin Hurwitz. The orchestral music sounds so gorgeous, yet so distinct and so perfectly timed. Even the regular sound editing manages to be so peculiarly, wonderfully trippy in some areas, such as the first failed mission when the rocket spins out of control and the sound effects used sound something a la <i>Psycho</i>. While the film isn't packaged with gimmicky suspense sequences, there are some genuine thrills along the way and the moon landing sequence manages to bring a vaster, hauntingly desolate scope to outer space that is uniquely its own.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><i>First Man</i> isn't going to be hailed as a new masterpiece and, yeah, sometimes it does get a little too melodramatic for its own good, although ever so briefly. However, I was surprised, relieved, and satisfied that Chazelle can step outside of his comfort zone and imbue the American-as-apple-pie image of this "giant step for man and giant leap for mankind" milestone with enough warmth, wit, and authentic, bracing emotions to activate a extra echelon on veneration for these fine men, including the First Man. This film is not a historical dramatization, but moreso a layered portrayal of a precarious moment in our history.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">On that basis, I thankfully enjoyed it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">RATING: Three out of four stars</span></div>
Stephen Bankshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10822184343035935418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8874585249961538138.post-76254796928149260032018-10-24T06:29:00.000-04:002018-10-24T06:29:20.344-04:00The Hate U Give (2018)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I think it's inevitable and almost insultingly basic to say that Amandla Stenberg has, long at last, finally been in the film she's truly wanted to star in. Since making her cinematic breakthrough in 2012, portraying the woefully-fated Rue in <i>The Hunger Games</i>, her brand as an actress withered, instead being branded moreso as a pro-black advocate who happens to have Hollywood connections. It seems, however, that Hollywood has both championed and punished her for this fact. She definitely had the black audience on her side, in the wake of Raven-Symone coincidentally losing her black cred around the same time, but not only was she decried by some for, gasp, having the balls to </span>"<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">start shit" with Kylie Jenner, the cinematic roles she was receiving were seen as quite lackluster.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It seems that in these socially woke, BLM times, Hollywood wanted to give her the title of "rising star," but without the actual sustainable power, which led to middling parts in films such as <i>Everything, Everything</i>, <i>Where Hands Touch</i>, and seemingly the most egregious, <i>The Darkest Minds</i>, all of which ironically enough involve Stenberg, a pro-black advocate, portraying characters that fall in love with white people, and two of those examples being based off books.</span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">However, when you can't earn that <i>Fault in Our Stars </i>money, nor can you earn that <i>Hunger Games</i> money, you always have the socially conscious outlet to strike a chord. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Enter <i>The Hate You Give</i>!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The film's star is Amandla Stenberg as Starr, a high-school student surviving with two identities: the non-confrontational, proper Starr at her predominately white prep school and the trap music-loving, slang-spouting Starr in her predominately African-American hometown of Garden Heights. She finds these two cultures being forcibly meshed after a late-night party. Her childhood friend, Khalil, drives her home, but is stopped by police. During the encounter, he is shot and killed in front of Starr. Because Starr was the sole witness, she receives outside pressure to testify against Officer #115 and has to face the unintentional ignorance from her school. Meanwhile, Khalil used to sell drugs for King, who threatens and stalks Starr's family out of fear that Starr's testimonial will only bring attention to King and his illicit business.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">There is one thing the film is manage to provoke: thought. This film raises thematic points that are cogent, stimulating, genuine, and even at certain points, fair. Consider the scene that sets the plot in motion of the officer killing Khalil. The situation itself (a white cop murdering a black teenager) is inherently prejudiced and unfairly biased and it's easy to quickly label it as such, solely on a surface level, especially given how the officer pointlessly questions Khalil about selling narcotics and how he treats Starr, barring her from recording on her phone and handcuffing her, despite her not committing any wrongdoing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">However, when the officer discovers that the "weapon" he was suspicious and paranoid of is a hairbrush, the officer soon becomes even more skittish and regretful, almost expressing a contrite apology. This aspect must mean that the officer isn't a racist, but is merely a victim of circumstance and of hasty, overly-impulsive decision making. He is afraid. However, what is he <b>actually</b> afraid for? Is he afraid because of the terror and senselessness of his personal transgression or because of the soiling of his personal security and image? It's ingeniously never made clear, which (a) brings even more angst and horror to the situation, (b) brings a brief flash of humanity to the officer and (c) further illustrates the argument that the true villain is the crude, capitalist, corporate-fucking judicial system, which forces commoners to suffer and let the higher-ups in position get away because of money, power, and potatoes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Another enrapturing facet of the film is its portrayal of cultural identity, not particularly through the eyes of Starr, but from her nurse mother and her kingpin-turned-grocer father. Starr's mother is the reason for Starr attending a prep school, due to her not wanting Starr to be beat up, hooked on drugs, or pregnant, and she is hell-bent on moving out of Garden Heights. However, Starr's father admires the spirited, tight-knit community, in spite of the squalor and drug-infested landscapes. Both present legitimate perspectives, which lead to the question of how much of yourself should you sacrifice in order to thrive? Do you stay closer or move farther away from your roots? Does either/or detract from yourself?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The film also makes incisive commentary on white fragility and faux-liberal ignorance. In one scene, the students at Starr's prep school stage a walkout in response to the death of Khalil. However, with the exception of one #BlackLivesMatter sign, <b>none</b> of the students truly accept the gravitas of this horrific situation, neither do they even discuss the event in anything but offhand terms. "It's in response to the horrible thing that happened to that person," Hailey, Starr's prep school friend, perfunctorily explains, "as well as being an excuse to cut class." This escalates throughout the film, bit by bit, with Hailey delivering insensitive and myopic statements in front of Starr, all the while being offended by the mere idea of her being called a "racist." This all erupts in one of the most explosive, powerful moments involving Starr, Hailey, and a hairbrush.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As you may notice, I don't seem to discuss Starr herself very much, but actually, that's part of the brilliance of the film. For a solid portion of the film, the plot revolves around Starr, but doesn't draw a direct lineage with Starr. While Starr is the main character, the majority of the film is everyone else reacting to the circumstances involving Starr, as well as the sheer environment, which portrays a ugly, derelict town with such color, vision, and warm insight. Starr re-focuses and hijacks the plot to put her as the center of attention when the character herself gains her aplomb, self-assured voice, and her true, primal expressions on inequality and systematic apathy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And what a character she is! While her story arc isn't intrinsically groundbreaking, it is narratively beguiling. She masks her disgust and any sort of incendiary propensities behind a guilt-ridden form of passiveness and a doe-eyed, dolorous gaze until the blazing fire ignited by injustice and blindness can't be concealed any longer, with every now and then donning one of the most sincere, adorable winning smiles ever to be shown on film. And that smile belongs to Stenberg, giving the fundamental performance in the film and of her career. She has the heaviest burden with this role, but she courageously and fiercely pushes through her role, portraying every scene so tragically, so authentically, and so lovably. It would make my entirety of 2019 if she could pick up an Oscar nomination.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">However, the rest of the cast pull off incredible work, as well. Russell Hornsby adds an incredible layer of compassion and intrigue to his role as Maverick, Starr's father. Here is a man who grapples with his past, yet is the most persuasive, level-headed, intelligent, commanding voice and presence in the whole movie. Regina Hall gives her most avuncular, enticing performance as the sweet-natured, yet no-nonsense mother of Starr. Algee Smith, for his ten minutes of screen time, portrays Khalil with a sympathetic sneer and a hypnotic, star-making smile. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Anthony Mackie shows off his menacing, despicable side as King, the drug lord and Common, a.k.a. Mr. Makes My Day Brighter Every Time I See Him Onscreen, almost seems to be marginally subversive of himself as Uncle Carlos. His character is particularly interesting, because who Common is portraying is someone that isn't making proper strides to advance and empower his own community. He loves his family, but when he is confronted about the underbelly of his job, he always concocts up an excuse. One precise moment is when Carlos discusses the frenzied mindset of confronting a black suspect, but when Starr asks about a white suspect, Carlos admits his own implicit bias, but refuses to mend or reverse it, saying to a teary-eyed Starr, "It's a complicated world." It's odd to see Common play such an antithesis of himself, but in a human way. We know these people. We've seen permissive black people like this and it's transfixing how Common both seem to bemoan and excuse his own appalling bias.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Admittedly, however, there is a time or two where the film seems to dangerously veer into the melodramatic side. There's one bit of dialogue said by Starr near the end during a confrontation between her family and King that I felt was over-indulgent and detracted what could've been an effectively, quietly plaintive moment. Some might argue that the final monologue is too cheery and rapidly forcing a resolution, but in my eyes, I think it works. The movie is based on a novel by Angie Thomas, which was targeted to young adults. That ending monologue is attempting to speak to young girls, moreso black girls, but you could argue all young girls; to empower them, to present yourself as one singular person unabashedly, to know your limits, but know that change might mean pushing them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Honestly, I might've accused it of being too sentimental and pandering to teenagers, as if they are toddlers that need simplification, but not when it's through the mouth of Starr. Like Moana in 2016, Starr is a character that young girls, once again, mostly black girls, can look up to. I can imagine a lot of black girls rocking braids and donning a hoodie like Starr. She has the voice and <i>The Hate U Give</i> has the message. When critics were dubbing <i>Blindspotting</i> as the next <i>Do the Right Thing</i>, I actually think they were referring to this film. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Think about it. Both films include a disillusioned protagonist that ultimately tries to avoid explosive confrontations, but their own outrage towards injustice leads them to being the primer for chaos. Sure, it may be filtered for teenagers, but the power, fury, and intensity that Spike Lee laid forth back in 1989 can certainly be found from director George Tillman Jr. and late screenwriter Audrey Morris almost thirty years later.</span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><i>The Hate U Give</i> gets all of my love!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And I'm ready for Armond White and any other loud-mouth, anti-SJW detractor to label this as amateurish liberal-spewing propaganda, and how it's offering a narrow-minded perspective of black struggle, and how it's forgoing genuine torment to produce a mindless heroism narrative and how it's victimizing and exploiting black people, while claiming to ally with them, and how...I dunno, Algee Smith's too dreamy of a murder victim, I guess.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Well, to those people, you know how "THUG LIFE" is an acronym for "The Hate You Give Little Infants Fucks Everybody." Well, in this case, I'll claim it to be an acronym for "The Hate You Give Liberals Increasingly Fuels Entertainment."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Yeah, that sounds about right. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">RATING: Four out of four stars!</span></div>
Stephen Bankshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10822184343035935418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8874585249961538138.post-77022867670115179062018-10-24T01:23:00.002-04:002018-10-24T01:23:22.076-04:00A Star is Born (2018)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You know, with all
the political tomfoolery and social mockery afflicting and embarrassing us as a
country, culture, and species, I feel that maybe it might be time to go back to
basics every once in a while, when it comes to the movies. These past three
years has been a filmmaking renaissance, precisely reflecting and reprimanding
our current turmoils, tragedies, and our most pressing social anxieties.
However, mindless and flashy entertainment (sometimes, a conglomerate of the
two) is still as imperative as ever; the difference between diving into a
redolent, rich meal at a four-star restaurant to showcasing your repressed
gluttony at a fast-food restaurant. They are two vast fields of pleasure;
incongruous, but highly necessary.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And what more of a
classic, timeless, and overall enlightening cinematic tradition that the grand
ol' movie musical! And one that is a remake, having formerly been fronted by
both Judy Garland and Barbara Streisand. Such grandiosity, some rushing emotions,
such soaring voices of power, theatricality, and beauty!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">What sweeping
pleasures to be had from… A Star Is Born… directed by Bradley Cooper, and which
tells the tale of an alcoholic wash-up and a disillusioned aspiring artist.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Shit. *sighs* Here
we go, I guess.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This film stars
director/producer/writer Bradley Cooper as Jackson, a rock musician who has
developed a habit of indulging in alcohol and painkillers. After a show, he
decides to take a detour and ends up in a drag bar, where he meets Ally, played
by the glorious Gaga in her film debut, a regular performer at said gay bar,
but has never found the self-esteem and the confidence to continue pursuing a
career in music. "It sounds great," they all say, "but your nose
is too big and you won't be successful."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Jackson discovers
that she can not only belt a note, but has a knack for songwriting. Through
intense persistence, he manages to get Ally to come to a gig of his and
perform. The video of the performance goes viral and a power couple commences
through Jackson and Ally. However, will Jackson's self-destructive behaviors
catch up with him? Can Ally go solo and maintain her artistic integrity? Holy
shit, is that Dave Chapelle in a dramatic role? Wait, is that the Diceman?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I don't want to
portray this film as a dirge of an experience, but this tale has been
tried-and-true. While Cooper deftly continues the tradition to preserving the
narrative foundation, but transmuting the external and emotional components,
it's still a tale that begins inspiring and then delves into tragically unfair,
no matter which version and/or soundtrack you reference. However, Cooper
fortunately retains one other aspect that bolsters the integrity of this Star
is Born legacy: power. In any other hands, this material could've been handled
in too treacly of a tone and, at times, it borders that dangerous pit, but his
daring, go-for-broke, yet tender direction keeps the films as raw and gritty as
Cooper's singing voice, eerily reminiscent of Kris Kristofferson himself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">One discovery I made
while watching this film and thinking about Bradley Cooper's best works is that
Cooper truly values meaningful connections. In The Hangover, Cooper had a
tremendous camaraderie with his friends, in the midst of all the debauchery, frenzied
chaos, and stolen Mike Tyson tigers. American Sniper showed a man with a deep,
personal connection to his profession. American Hustle delineated his
connection with his own perceived morality and he showcase a connection between
two damaged souls, yet temperamentally opposite, in Silver Linings Playbook, my
favorite Cooper role to date.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I can only conclude
that this, anything Rocket the Raccoon-related notwithstanding, is the reason
why films like Aloha, Burn, and Joy were all financial and critical duds is
because Cooper failed to spark any sort of tangible connection in his
performances, or at least that's why Cooper was seen as unremarkable, at best.
However, allow Cooper to explore meaningful connections and what an engrossing,
tumultuous, lovely love story you receive between Jackson and Ally and all the
nuances that Cooper portrays the love story with. One of the most sensually
intense and riveting moments in early on when Ally self-deprecates herself for
her big nose. Jackson asks to touch it and the camera zooms in on the moment,
lingering with more vigor and raw attraction than the sex scenes, which are
shot tersely and sparingly, just long enough to where you confirm the emotional
bullseye between these two beings. It's not about leering, it's about loving.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Also, I guess it’s
fitting that A Star is Born is a story that has been about revelations and
comebacks, because when it comes to Cooper's performance…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Damn!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Welcome back,
Bradley! I don't know where the hell you've been, but you came home and that's
all that matters. And you can bet your ass that I'll be rooting for you to get
that Best Actor nomination. Also, Academy of Arts and Sciences, if I may put in
a request, don't forget about Gaga either because…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">DAMN!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Lady Gaga (I was
going to use her real name to give her more credibility in the acting realm,
but fuck it, Gaga suits me well) is quite simply a revelation. I saw her in an
interview where she stated that she hates herself without makeup, because that
isn't really her. I can only assume that she had to extract feelings from
herself of insecurity, of inadequacy, and of crippling, desperate fears of
losing control over her image and style. Whatever the case may be, she shows it
in a truly naked performance, in more ways than one. Her vulnerability and
naivete coupled with her quick-wittedness and her emerging courage is something
to behold, augmented by those glorious Gaga eyes, so glowing with pathos,
intensity, and a raw, striking aggression that she could stand toe-to-toe with
Judy Garland.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It's almost comical
how it took Mariah Carey subsequent bit parts and twenty-second cameos to make
an impact, yet Lady Gaga hits it out of the park in one try, all the while
reminding us that her musical abilities have not fallen to the wayside.
Speaking of which, the music is mostly strong, but again, I do say mostly.
While all of Bradley Cooper's self-written, self-performed songs all click with
me, Gaga seems to let some of her leaden, syrupy pop sensibilities creep in,
which lead to songs intentionally awful ("Is That Alright?") to ones
that are rather flavorless ("Look What I Found") to ones too maudlin,
too strained, too pretentious, and overrated ("I'll Never Love
Again").</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Regardless, this is
an emotional gut punch of a musical in the same vein it's always been. It's
rather subversive in that sense: manipulating our content, rigorously hopeful
expectations of musicals, in order to transport us to a journey that both
musical fans and non-musical fans will most likely be caught off-guard by.
Throughout the film, I tried to find a definitive, binding connection between
Ally and Jackson that links them as personalities. What do they share? The
tragic answer is that they are well-intentioned, spirited, passionate
individuals that try to abscond each other's circumstances. Jackson tries to
expose Ally to stardom, only for her to lose her artistic credibility and her
hope in romance. Ally tries to lift Jackson through his struggles, which only
makes for him seeping deeper into his angst and his vices, to the point where
his hope in himself can no longer be recovered. It doesn't make for a
consistently uplifting experience, but it makes for an authentic one.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Also, Lady Gaga, if
you choose to explore more with nudity, I… I will not complain at all.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">RATING: Three out of
four stars</span></div>
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Stephen Bankshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10822184343035935418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8874585249961538138.post-24124589537727993182018-07-31T03:33:00.000-04:002018-07-31T03:33:19.613-04:00Blindspotting (2018)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">To be honest, I was initially terrified when I saw the promotional spots for <i>Blindspotting</i></span>.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">First off, it's a Lionsgate film, which, right off the bat, should make you at least mildly weary going into their projects. I can only describe Lionsgate as Miramax, if they had a branch of their film productions run by a bunch of beer-chugging, imbecilic, thick-headed frat boys. I mean, with every <i>Precious</i>, we also get a <i>Disaster Movie</i> or another god-for-fucking-saken <i>Madea</i> piece of dreck. And from my first impressions of the trailer, it seemed like some shallow, melodramatic, ungainly effort to get a piece of the socially-conscious pie by utilizing the police brutality element merely as some sort of shocking viscera, intending as some sort of an afterthought to carry an entire film.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And then I saw all the reviews comparing it to <i>Do the Right Thing</i>...and I got even more terrified. I mean, this film? What could there possibly be to it that Spike Lee could possibly be trembling in his boots, bringing in around-the-clock security to make it certain that his crown remains untouched. Well, while Spike Lee unequivocally had a cinematic visage and hyper-energy that made his film more intriguing, what writers Rafael Casal and Daveed Diggs, as well as director Carlos Lopez Estrada, bring to <i>Blindspotting </i>is an anxious, raw, unflinching spirit that brings out searing emotions.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Is it better than <i>Do the Right Thing</i>? Unfair to compare the two at this moment in time, in my opinion. Did it effect me more than <i>Do the Right Thing</i>? Holy shit, did it ever.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The film revolves around Collin, played by Daveed Diggs. He is a convicted felon due to a horrific bar fight, which ended in a guy getting severely burned. After serving two months, he is released on a one-year probation, which requires him to live in a halfway house, obey an 11:00 p.m. curfew, obtain and sustain employment, and avoid any sort of criminal activity. However, there's one mild obstacle that may threaten his freedom: his best friend, Miles, played by Rafael Casal. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">He is a full-on "wigger," complete with grills and a revolver he recently bought from a third-rate Uber driver. His hot temper and hasty attitude threaten to, at times, get Collin in precarious situations, despite them having veritable, mutual love for each other.</span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Additionally, while driving home after a shift at a moving company, he witnesses a cop, played by Ethan Embry, killing an unarmed black man. This event leaves him traumatized and angered, leading to an internal conflict of trying to follow the straight path and wanting to get justice for his people.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Diggs and Casal themselves stated that they wanted to create a love letter to their hometown, Oakland, the location of the film, stating that they believed that Oakland had been unfairly misrepresented in film. In a rare moment in cinema history, it actually feels fitting that a music video director, the aforementioned Carlos Estrada, was given the task of representing Oakland completely, for better or worse. For the record, it was most likely going to be Estrada that was chosen, seeing how he had directed music videos for clipping, Daveed Diggs' hip-hop group, but either way, his gritty mise-en-scene does reflect hip-hop music videos, but in this film, it gives Oakland its own soul that it can properly relay to the audience, some of whom may or may not have grown up there (* cough cough*). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">He has a real daring vision with his visuals, including a nightmare involving Miles as a rapping prosecutor and a delusion in which Collin is confronted with a cemetery, each gravestone shadowed by a black man standing in front of it. The camerawork by Robby Baumgartner also adds to the harsh ambiance, with the lightness being only as bright as the tough, rugged nature of Oakland allows and the darkness swathing in itself, adding an additional level of uncertainty and menace, as well as the tight close-ups that appear more frequently in the final third and pierce gruesomely into these characters' intense, edgy cores. In addition, the soundtrack of this film is 100% Oakland certified, embracing the nostalgia feel of the 90's Bay Area sound with such sheer allegiance and observance that it was jarring and mildly unwelcoming when a modern-sounding song appeared on the closing credits. I'm yours forever, Fantastic Negrito.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This film clearly wants to say something. What it says, I'll get to later, but what's remarkable about Diggs and Casal's writing is that instead of composing caricatures or personifications of salient points that will undoubtedly be used by the overzealous, oblivious social justice warrior, they instead opt for creating characters and personalities. Collin just might be one of my favorite protagonists in all of cinema. He physically personifies a gangster, a smooth-talking criminal, yet his actually character is an unmitigated subversion of that. He constantly is looking to evade trouble, but yet his primary battle seems not to conform to his probation conditions or to keep himself clear of any shenanigans, but instead to abscond all his inner-paranoias and stay level-headed through his trying times. He's an unlikely yet more-than-applicable straight man.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Miles, on the other hand, is as loose of a cannon as you could expect to come across. The brilliance, however, is that he isn't written as flippantly trying to act black or some surface-level scoundrel. He just has an unbridled energy and has accustomed himself to his surroundings. He's immature and bold, which leads to some big laughs, particularly in a black beauty parlor scene where Miles attempts to peddle hair products, yet he does value his family, particularly his black wife, Ashley, and his son. He's never portrayed as trying to overcompensate or a perpetrator of cultural appropriation. He's portrayed as someone who pushes his limits far often than not, thus making his character not a villain, but an imperfect human, particularly in a scene where he almost puts his son in danger.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It's actually quite surprising how the community seems to have no qualms about Miles' demeanor and racial posturing for the majority of the film. I mean, given the successes of Post Malone and Iggy Azalea, it's been shown that sometimes it takes the black masses a little longer to catch on when someone's blatant, presumptuously donning their sacred culture as a costume. However, the dynamic between Collin and Miles does play into a consistent theme during the film: bias. Again, the themes in this film are actually sparsely told, but I noticed an indication of commentary on implicit bias once during each of the acts.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In the first third, it happens during a scene, more specifically in an offhand remark, when Collin is accused of behaving rudely at his job when, in all actuality, it was Miles, but of course, Collin is black and looks the part. In the second third, Collin's ex-girlfriend, Val, discusses with him about how easy Miles got off during the night of the barfight, seeing how Miles participated in the fight, along with Collin. In the final third, everything comes to a head as Miles is finally called out on acting overly ghetto, which not only leads to a fight, but also result in an argument between Collin and Miles, in which both characters receive ugly epiphanies about their own situations.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Miles is forced to confront the truth that no matter how much black validation he has accrued, the sole reason that he has been able to act how he has acted was because of his lighter pigment. Collin is plunged even further into his pursuit for justice, which climaxes during the film's most harrowing, gut-wrenching emotional crescendo; a consummate hip-hop fueled moment of social potency, a desperately rattled stream-of-consciousness presentation, a tortured point-of-interest, and such agonizing, relatable verities that my eyes welled up with tears. It is seriously one of the greatest movie scenes in all of cinema. It assaults you with the verisimilitude of the scenario, but enraptures you with the meaning. To me, it's where the film truly ends, with those last five minutes being only a breather for the film before the end credits.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It helps that Daveed Diggs has flexed his acting muscles to a much greater extent than <i>Hamilton</i> could even hope to have claimed. Diggs has an off-kilter everyman vibe, to where he is collected as a person, yet lets his shattered, skittering vulnerability rush right out of him, both emotionally separating himself in the context of Oakland and emotionally revealing himself as a lost human. The way he struggles with freestyles during the majority of the movie, yet lets it all pour out when it matters is just an unforgettable, brutally poignant acting job. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">However, all the other actors shine as well. Ethan Embry as Officer Molina is minimally powerful, giving off that pathetic, woeful, puppy-dog look that conjures up images of Darren Wilson. It instinctively sets me off, but is technically remarkable due to his power. Janina Gavankar portrays Val, Collin's ex-girlfriend, with a complex, morbid allure, while another <i>Hamilton</i> alumni, Jasmine Cephas Jones, portrays Miles' wife, Ashley, as a plucky, soulful, down-to-earth woman, who possess a loving, sweet soul underneath those ghetto braids. Rafael Casal, also straight from <i>Hamilton</i> (jeez, I haven't seen the word, <i>Hamilton</i>, this much since the Tony Awards), employs a twisted gusto and unrelenting bravura as Miles. His presentation is almost Broadway-esque, but here, he's in a whole different realm; a realm that gives him some stellar comedic moments and some penetrating dramatic moments.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The titular "blindspotting" stems from a conversation between Collin and Val near the end of the movie. In order to familiarize herself with the concept of Rubin vase, that classic optical illusion where you either see a vase or two faces, she calls it "blindspotting," because it's what happens when something is present and you don't notice it, but you do eventually. I knew that I could apply this concept to Miles (his blindspotting moment being his grappling with his white privilege). I struggled in applying this concept to Collin, as his mere probation conditions could be his, seeing how he so desperately tries to manage his life that he can barely remember to be home at 11.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Then, I realized, it didn't matter, because this movie was blindspotting me in more ways than one. Throughout my initial reactions to the trailer, all of these narrative elements were present, but not in the trailer. They were in my blind spot and I had to actually <b>look</b> to discover it. Also, in these liberal-charged days of filmmaking, this film put the social commentary in <b>its</b> blind spot, forcing us not to sift through a treasure trove of racial complexities, but to submit to an emotional experience; not to think, but to feel.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And boy, did I! And when I did, I thought long and hard about it after it was over. Don't let the film simmer in your blind spot. See it as soon as you can!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">RATING: Three-and-three-quarters stars out of four</span></div>
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Stephen Bankshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10822184343035935418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8874585249961538138.post-16810450658989634012018-07-30T05:19:00.000-04:002018-07-30T05:19:14.157-04:00Eighth Grade (2018)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">One recurring element of modern filmmaking I've heard being described as a constant aversion is the lack of crafty, stimulating, alluring opening credits. I personally believe that, as long as there is a balance between plainly straightforward and jaw-droppingly stunning opening credits, I'm not particularly bothered. However, I feel that the balance isn't as strong or sturdy as it should be, so I can't say that I don't notice it and yeah, it would be nice for filmmakers to implement more vision and artistry in the opening credits, like a poppy, vibrant opening musical number in a Broadway play.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">However, the way the straightforward presentation of opening credits is utilized in <i>Eighth Grade</i> is actually one of the most potent, subterraneously ballsy, and narratively fitting usages of this unadorned method for an opening that I've ever seen. Those cold, white credits with the bland, lifeless font perfectly mirrors the ruthlessly on-the-nose nature of this epoch of adolescence. Their simple fade-ins and fade-outs seem to resemble the feelings of helplessness and uselessness that some teenagers of this age do tend to feel, particularly our protagonist, Kayla. And when that title card drops with that customary "thud," it definitely captures the existential horror that seems to envelop during this period of one's youth.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This. Is. <i>Eight Grade</i>!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The film revolves around the aforementioned Kayla, an eight-grader who is getting ready to graduate. She's a shy, quiet type, adorned with acne, enraptured by her phone and ostensibly is aspiring to be a YouTube star, constantly posting videos of advice. However, her quiet, self-effacing temperament is a mild bone of contention with her, as it leads her to earn the superlative of "Most Quiet." Ignited by this, she sets off to build her confidence and find herself, along with maybe earning her crush, Adrien, who had been voted "Best Eyes."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I've always been an acolyte of Bo Burnham and his weird, satirical, skewering brand of comedy, going back to his Rehab Center for Fictional Characters bit. I knew he was skilled as a musician, but I never knew he was such a musical technician. He actually doesn't play a note of the score, rather instead leaving that to British electro-composer, Anna Meredith, but this film showed me that his knack for music goes beyond knowing how to play an instrument. It extends mentally and emotionally, having a sixth sense for the placement of music.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In this film, the score treats each scene as a new experience for its lead character and assists in the narrative progression. When Kayla is at a pool party, the score couples the initial rush/external enjoyment with the internal horror brought upon by Kayla's self-image. A specific ingenious move on the part of both Meredith as a composer and Burnham as a director comes during the dinner table scene, which is the first time in the film that we see the interaction between Kayla and her father. Initially, Kayla is locked into her phone, blaring music, which we hear with all the volume, intensity, and vigor that Kayla certainly must feel, too. During the conversation, Kayla has to alternate between being alone at her phone and having to begrudgingly converse with her father. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">After her final plea with her father to be on her phone, her father relents, but at that point on, we don't get to hear the music anymore, thus Burnham gets to convey the feeling of having such a vibrant, up-to-the-minute, whizzing buzz of a safe space her phone provides, yet opposing that with the actual reality of what Kayla is doing: shutting herself off and submitting to a fantasy. As well, for the initial spurt of music we are allowed to hear, Meredith shows us how much ass she kicks as a musician, not just in this scene, but in every other scene. Hell, she <b>is</b> the composer and she definitely shows us how she got the job.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Burnham really shines as a writer/director. He is a comedian and he utilizes some vulgar, immature, and low-brow sensibilities, but it leads to some big laughs, including Kayla trying to find the right moment to practice fellatio. Hell, it makes sense that some of the humor is immature. The film is called <i>Eighth Grade</i>, which is, like, the height of immaturity and crass talk. What surprised me about Burnham's writing is how he forsook, or at least heavily downplayed, satire, in place for warmth. It would've been so easy to make Kayla some petty, basic, catty little twat that was supposed to represent the worst tendencies of teenagers, offering some unfair, highfalutin nihilism. It would've been easy to make the father into some clueless clot, representing the worst tendencies of parents <b>raising</b> teenagers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">What Burnham does here is actually depict an actual, genuine, relatable character, not one to be decried or mocked, but to sympathize with. She's awkward and insecure in real life and uses her YouTube platform to feign a more down-to-earth, captivating version of herself. The videos she makes are all pseudo-profound, superficial, and utilize a lot of "um"s, "like"s, and "whatever"s, but they sincerely mean something to her because it's what she's feeling. She doesn't have the finesse or growth to properly and eloquently communicate what she's feeling, but she has the emotional experience.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Additionally, the dad in this film is not the type of dad that is completely disconnected via the dreaded generational gap and is trying to hip, but rather he is merely trying to connect with his daughter. That mere motive has some deep, underlying pathos to it, but yet the extremity of their weird relationship creates some incredulous laughs. However, it comes all to a head during a fireplace scene between him and Kayla, which is the most heartwarming moment of the film, daring to tug at the heartstrings and demolishes both of these characters' personal barriers. The fact that Burnham could generate such emotional investment and relatability without any sort of obvious, self-impressed cynicism is quite remarkable.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It also helps that Burnham has brought in two fine actors to assist us in appreciating our time with these characters. Elsie Fisher, who you may recognize as Agnes from the first two <i>Despicable Me</i> films, doesn't try to deliver some spunky, rowdy performance to forcibly distance herself from her childish roles. Instead, she opts to play a teenager by, *gasp*, being a teenager. It's as elementary yet lovable a performance you could hope for, with that nervous half-smile being the closest thing to a gimmick. Acting veteran Josh Hamilton is warm, approachable, and flexible as Elsie's father, desperately trying to find the sweet spot of investing himself in his daughter's life, whilst also giving her her space. Also, Jake Ryan as Gabe, a friend of Kayla's, is a riot. I will say no more of the matter.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You know, it's funny. When I attended the screening of this film, there actually were some pre-teen girls in the audience. I almost questioned why a film like this would <b>honestly</b> peak their interest, as opposed to questioning why they were at a R-rated film, because, let's face it, we all know the answers. I mean, sure it's called <i>Eighth Grade</i>, but this seems like a film that would appeal more to those looking back on the angst of it all, rather than the current victims of that same angst. Given how much the film showcases the mental escapes of teenagers, I figured they were glued into theirs and this did a flyby over them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But nope, I was wrong. And I'm glad, because all the pre-teens/teenagers who gave this film a legitimate chance would've been paired with the perfect icon for teenage humility and confusion: Kayla. What's refreshing is that the film doesn't particularly offer a resolution, but moreso a step in the right direction. Why? Because, in the end, that's what growing up is: making steps in the right direction. She'll face much harsher vicissitudes, but she'll have experiences to fall back on that will guide her on how to handle them, at least sometimes. I've read reviews that are clamoring to see more of Kayla's life after eighth grade.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">One of those reviews will be mine. As Buzz Lightyear would say, "To ninth grade and beyond!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">RATING: An enthusiastic three stars</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span></div>
Stephen Bankshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10822184343035935418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8874585249961538138.post-45925282281705846532018-07-19T04:01:00.000-04:002018-07-19T04:01:12.356-04:00Sorry to Bother You (2018)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Ah, the return of changed plans has now commenced.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Sometimes, you start out preparing and convincing yourself that you're gonna give a specific blockbuster about dinosaurs a chance, after being intrigued and curious from the advertising (seriously, who wouldn't want to see Chris Pratt try to out-run a dust storm). Then, all of a sudden, a trailer for, quote, "the most original comedy in years" pops up on your news feed and...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Sorry, you prehistoric aberrations. I must proceed to another bold comedy about race in America. Sorry to bother you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And by that, I mean <b>not</b> sorry.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The film revolves around Cassius, a gentleman down on his luck, living in his uncle's garage with his artist girlfriend. Determined to find a job, he equips himself with a custom-made trophy and employee-of-the-month plaque, along with a fake-ass resume, and goes it for a job interview for a telemarketing company, Rearview. In spite of this, he receives the job and at first, he struggles.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">That is until our newly-proclaimed Black Messiah, Danny Glover, shows up and instructs Cassius the way to flourish: by using your white voice. Utilizing this idea, Cassius rises to the top as a power caller, working alongside the cream of the crop of the company. Meanwhile, Squeeze, a fellow employee is at the forefront of a protest against Rearview to push for better pay, which puts him and Cassius at odds with each other. It gets worse when Cassius realizes that Rearview may be marketing something that is far beyond wholesome or helpful.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I prefer to call this less a film and more of a poppy, stunning bag of tricks clasped in the furious, scintillating hands of rapper/director/writer/maybe-still-a-Marxist Boots Riley. Watching the trailer for this, I was expecting to be predominantly a satire, but Riley manages to incorporate all sorts of comedy in this film, ranging from the absurdist comedy found in scenes such as Cassius' girlfriend's art exhibit performance, to the dark comedy such as the "N*gga Shit" scene (it happens), to the slapstick comedy found in the clips of a in-universe television series, "I Got the Shit Kicked Out of Me," to just standard witty interplay between our characters. And all of them manages to inject this film with such a surreal energy and a savage spirit.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Yes, satire does pervade throughout the film, but the bemusing brilliance of Riley is that satire is more of a counterpart in the film, not the particular goal. He has such an acute sensibility as a writer and such a gargantuan, limitless, field of view as a director that he has the cojones to interject little spurts of social commentary and biting satire sporadically and it's never rushed. It even goes beyond the whole "white voice" conceit, which actually isn't used as much as you would assume.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Consider a scene where Cassius is led out against an angry mob and a soda can is thrown at him. It becomes a viral video, to the point where it becomes a Halloween costume. It could be seen as commenting on how overboard and overzealous we can be when we attempt to viralise politics or it can be seen as satirizing how simple we are as consumers and how we virtually need current issues to be, or be introduced by, some sort of distraction that catches us off guard. And this is all ignoring the fact that it could also be a indirect, unique method to comment on blackface.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">How about the fact that Cassius' boss when he becomes a power caller is also African-American and is also contractually bound to speak with a white voice? His name? It's always bleeped out, never being mentioned once throughout the entire film. The film never seems to express an immense distaste of black people whom are perceived to be "selling out," so in this case, it could be seen as an inauspicious yet genuine part of life where sometimes, certain things need to be compromised at certain times, or it could also be seen as what it is: censorship, a blatant, flabbergasted disapproval of an African-American's name, which statistically shown, is a <b>very</b> real problem in this country.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Or how about WorryFree, which...I'll just let you watch the film and figure that out for yourself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And watch, specifically watch, the film you should, because while the film is invigorating in its potential discourse, it is absolutely masterful in its visuals. I can only fucking hope that Riley and cinematographer Doug Emmett will be recurring collaborators, because every close-up, every pan-out shot, every pan-in shot, every little visual trick employed couldn't have been this fulsome and this stimulating, unless it was under the direction of two synthesized minds who can read and feel each other completely. Speaking of which, I'm also clamoring for Riley to do more musical work with Tune-Yards, because what they have done here is craft a score that flirts with normalcy and convention and then flips it on its head a few times, resulting in an amazing soundtrack.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Riley has also managed to gather together the most universally B-list, yet pitch-perfect group of actors for his film. Tessa Thompson makes for perfectly amiable eye candy as Detroit, Cassius' girlfriend, yet circumvents being just a boring pretty woman by possessing a bold, steadfast demeanor and even an inordinately looney edge, if her art exhibit performance is any indication. Lakeith Stanfield graduates from being that perpetual, obligatory, black film supporting actor and moves on to a lead role as Cassius. And boy, does he not squander it, perfectly muting and controlling his performance, as to only play an Everyman, thus making every comedic quip funnier and every dramatic moment more relatable. We also get vocal cameos from Rosario Dawson, Patton Oswalt, and David Cross, the last two portraying the white voices of Mr. Bleep and Cassius, respectively. It's a very potent move and moment that these two white actors allow themselves to portray these self-kidding yet complexly relevant roles.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">What an alive, vivid, driving film this is. To me, this film does to comedy what <i>Get Out</i> did to horror. In fact, I think this film is <b>better</b> than <i>Get Out</i>. While <i>Get Out</i> had the entertainment value covered, <i>Sorry to Bother You</i> has more of a vision. It's not merely another cinematic racial allegory, but a film made by people who love the cinema. What was ostensibly a film seemingly made to comment on racial perspectives and disparities reveals itself to be about the dirge of economics, the almost adorable fallacies of human life, and an ordinary man trying to make a better life for himself.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This Boots was made for filmmaking. And that's what he should do...along with continuing to be a dope musical artist.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">RATING: Three-and-a-half stars out of four</span></div>
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Stephen Bankshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10822184343035935418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8874585249961538138.post-33568107899375925942018-06-23T18:34:00.000-04:002018-06-23T18:34:52.110-04:00The Incredibles 2 (2018)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Ah, I sure do love a reunion!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But do you know what I love even more? A reunion, in which you are happy and anticipating to see <b>every</b> living soul there, everyone has retained their spirit, but have improved on themselves since you last saw them, every lull or activity is immaculately timed and manages to be invigorating whatever it is, everybody has a splendid time, leaves with a grin on their faces, and you accept that whether or not it occurs again on a later date, you were immensely satiated for the time being.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I know. Sounds like wishful thinking, but tonight, PIXAR reunited me with my annual PIXAR short film; this time, being <i>Bao</i>, a bizarre, avant-gardely humorous, and heartwarming story about the disconnect and reconnection of a mother and son.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And then came the Parr family reunion. It was...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Quite incredible, to say the least. Everything I expected, everything I craved, and then some.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The film picks up exactly and perfectly where the first film ended. The Underminer is causing chaos in the city and while the Incredibles spring into action, it isn't a complete success, with the Underminer robbing a bank and some substantial damage caused to the city. Authorities' apprehensions for superheroes soon spring again and the family, shamed and homeless, are forced to stay at a motel. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">However, they are soon approached by a gentleman named Winston Deaver, owner of Devtech. He idolized the heroes as a child and now as an adult, he plans to get superheroes back on the public's side. Elastigirl is named to be the at the vanguard of this movement, as she's off on a mission to protect the city from the Screenslaver, while Bob, a.k.a. Mr. Incredible, takes over duties as a parent. However, things being complicated when the Screenslaver has a vastly different identity than expected, as well as Jack Jack developing his superpower.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Oh, did I say one? I meant seventeen.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">When this film was finalized and it was made official, I had very low expectations, but in a reasonable, excited way. I expected it to (a) show me the Parr family after the events of the first film and (b) do something new and interesting with them. As much as I enjoyed the first film, I'm not the fiercest fanatic of that film, so as long as it followed and obeyed my expectations, it was due for a rave review from me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">What's remarkable about this film is that the film continues the legacy of the first film via one aspect: spirit. This film rarely and sparingly utilizes callbacks or references to the first film, but by merely capturing such an exact tonal replica of the first film, it manages to be more evocative of the first film, rather than nudging the audience every ten minutes. It balances the action, comedy, heart, and conflict practically identically to the first film. During the action and chase scenes, there are still arguments about who's going to watch the baby. Before FroZone leaves for a mission, he can't escape being nagged at by Honey.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">How this film stands alone, however, is through another aspect: progression. We already developed the characters and powers. It is now time to let everything be taken full advantage of. The story is more than just a simple mission-to-fight-a-villain story. It uses the impetus of the villain and the idiosyncrasies and flaws of its characters to reveal commentary about the media, television, entitled contentment, and even about parents playing equal roles in raising their children. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Also, what <i>Coco</i> did for racial tolerance, <i>The Incredibles 2</i> is continuing for feminism. The film's basic premise is that Elastigirl is the hero that's not only the choice because of wisdom, but also because she's the most marketable, the boldest face for this advocacy. In 2018, this couldn't have been any more of a perfect time to release a sequel that takes the approach of having a female front-and-center. There's even a little nuanced moment where Evelyn, the sister of Winston, talks about being an inventor and how adroit and advanced she is at it and Helen subtly gives her an impressed look. The girl-power themes strike not just an audacious note, but a gracious note, as in lead, support, and pay it forward. It goes further when Mr. Incredible struggles with the idea of not being in the forefront of this pro-superhero movement, despite being genuinely excited and supportive of her, connoting and articulating the belief that in order for women to move forward in our society, it may require men, the gender possessing the higher quantities of power and clout, may need to be humbled once in a while.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">On a technical level, this both simmers in the same field, yet surpasses the original, as well. The animation has the same buoyancy and juvenile ecstasy of the original, yet it is so much more ambitious and multifarious in style, drawing influences of neo-noir, action film-style visuals, and even architecture in Palm Springs. This leads to some of the most gorgeous, captivating imagery I've seen from the Parrs</span>'<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> rental house, to seeing those familiar, innocent, wide blue eyes on the Parrs, to a mere scene of a moon-lit pool, as Helen and Bob have a discussion. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This also makes way for some of the most rousing, full-bodied, visually astounding action sequences I've seen in an animated film, including one of the propulsive, white-knuckle monorail sequences in all of cinema. Also, the reverent joy to see the reprise of these characters' lives can clearly be empathized with via the voice actors because returning actors Craig T. Nelson, Holly Hunter, Sarah Powell, and Samuel "Mr. Motherfucker" Jackson adjust themselves squarely and comfortably back into their roles. Bob Odenkirk brings a looney fervor to the role of Winston and Catherine Keener, fresh out of <i>Get Out</i>, slithers and simmers in a Sharon Stone-esque emulation through the role of Evelyn, Winston's sister. On the subject of returns, it wouldn't be a badass PIXAR film without Michael Giacchino composing the score, providing a musical score with thematic continuity and singular ingenuity, all the while never depriving us of the grandiose notes we expect to hear from <i>The Incredibles</i>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">If I had to pick my favorite PIXAR film, I would give a three-way tie to the Toy Story films. If I had to determine the most meaningful PIXAR film, I'd easily chalk it up to Inside Out. If I had to select the most gorgeous PIXAR film, I'd say Coco. However, if I had to pick the most entertaining PIXAR film, I'd say <i>The Incredibles 2</i>. <span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">I feel that, internally, deep down, I knew what to expect when the Disney logo preceding the film was cloaked in the superhero motifs and bleeding, beautiful reds we've grown accustomed to from </span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">The Incredibles</i><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">. That frilly, disconnected, narratively distant moment of build-up sums up the entire film: embracing current progression, while attuned with that old spirit. For a film of such high stakes, this is one of the easiest, instantly entertaining, effortlessly appealing films of the year. It feels less like a laborious effort to engage and more like a round-table read, where everyone is happy to be there. By simply having everyone back and enjoying themselves, it managed to both achieve its basic requirements and exceed them.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Also, there's a line in the film where agent Rick Dicker states, "Politicians don't like people who do good just because it's right." I think I'll just leave this here for y'all.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">RATING: Four out of four stars!</span></span><br />
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Stephen Bankshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10822184343035935418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8874585249961538138.post-90958114871585499712018-06-14T05:12:00.001-04:002018-06-14T05:12:51.833-04:00Hereditary (2018)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">You know, I stated previously that my main quibble with modern horror films is that, while the expression and feeling of fear is complex, multifarious, and unlimited, the template for these films are anything but. I've also previously provided much acclaim for those that go the extra mile and <b>attempt</b> to match that natural, veritable level of complexity and layered intensity. And that'll be the case with <i>Hereditary</i>. The film both outwardly and obliquely expresses the fear of loss, the fear of failing as a parent, and the fear of perpetuating a negative family legacy. All of this coming from a supernatural horror film.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">A24, please don't show any signs of slowing down.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Hereditary opens with a family comprised of husband/father Steve, wife/mother Annie, who works as a miniaturist artist, son Peter, and daughter Charlie. Their grandmother, Ellen, has recently passed away and the family, particularly Annie, is struggling to cope with the loss. The family is put into further turmoil when Charlie dies in a car accident caused by Peter. She soon afterwards meets a lady named Joan, who lost her son and grandson. Joan convinces Annie to communicate with her deceased daughter via a séance. However, this soon produces dire consequences. Will the family be able to recover? And how much did Grandma Ellen know?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">With such a distinct, original studio such as A24, it doesn't surprise me that the film has such a unique style of cinematography, thanks to cinematographer Pawel Porgozelski. She has a unique way of framing that is wide, afar, and observant. It focuses on the scene, but gives everything proper space, as if it's letting the mood of the moment be the star. It uses close-ups, but sagaciously and sparingly. When they are used, they are used to probe in on the character's feelings. There are even instances where the camera focuses on the niceties and details of the house, thus personifying the house in a way.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Sonically, the film manages to stand out. While the dialogue is not muted by any means, sound editor Alfred DeGrand amplifies several emotional or minute sounds. Crying, breathing, a clicking tongue, the tinkering of a fork; all are accentuated and given as equal an importance and strength as the actual dialogue. And when we aren't being treated to the brilliant, atmospheric sound design, we get to witness one of the most awe-inspiring, unorthodox horror scores I've ever heard, composed by Colin Stetson. It sounds synth-driven, yet he primarily used vocals and manipulated clarinets to produce a motley of sounds. I haven't been invigorated and transfixed by a horror score to this degree since Herrmann's score for <i>Psycho</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">There are a lot of keen narrative moves from director/writer Ari Aster. When I first saw the advertisements, I thought that it would be a subversive, original twist on scary-child horror films, such as <i>Orphan</i> or <i>The Exorcist</i>. However, Charlie's decapitation within the first half-hour struck down that expectation. What's surprising is that the real core of the film is Annie and her slow, neurotic, emotional breakdown, first driven by grief, then by guilt, and finally by obsession. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">The film is actually separated into two parts. The first half is a plaintive, meditative study on grief. The second half...is the consistently scary shit. Sometimes, you hear critics throw around superlatives, such as "non-stop," which are really rhetorical and superficial, at best. However, believe me when I say that the second half is nothing but non-stop scares. The film manages to go beyond jump scares and actually utilizes some rather macabre, visceral methods in order to scare. And given how one adult male left the audience for two minutes at one point, I think it was effective. The fact that I can talk about indelible scares from the moribund, atrophying genre of the supernatural horror film, the genre that's still showing the rotten traces of <i>Paranormal Activity</i> and <i>The Conjuring</i>, is astounding, but nevertheless, exemplary. And it all culminates to one of the most artfully bizarre, perverse endings I've seen in quite some time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">The performances are all captivating. Milly Shapiro goes from buoyant, vibrant, shrewd Matilda from <i>Matilda: The Musical</i> to portraying a cold, detached, troubled Charlie in this film. With the paltry screen time she's given, she manages to make an impact and leave you invested 'til her bloody end. Former Naked Brother Alex Wolff portrays Peter as a typical pot-smoking teenager that, emotionally, is rather weak and nakedly vulnerable. He manages to make us feel his angst and malaise without his excessive crying being overkill. </span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Gabriel Byrne as the husband primarily stays in his lane as the straight man to all of the chaos, but he himself gets a few effective moments as he begins to feel the effects of the madness. Ann Dowd is deceptively beguiling as the frighteningly genial friend, Joan. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">However, the stand-out, expectedly, is Toni Collette as Annie, looking like Julianne Moore bereft of any rest. Right off the bat, she enters the film drained and exhausted, but fervently and valorously attempting to stay warm. By the end, she's raving mad, desperately trying to get the love back from her family, as well as regain her sanity. The fact that her character is revealed to be a sleepwalker and a miniaturist artist on a time clock to meet her deadline for an art exhibition add to her insecurities and paranoia and seem to merely prod at and exacerbate her mental descent. It's horrifying yet tragically hypnotic to watch, on the level of Jack Torrance from <i>The Shining</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">"Spellbinding" is the word I would use to describe this film. Watching this film and how it deftly and effectively balanced genuine emotion and genuine horror made me wonder if this is the wave of the future; if filmmakers and filmgoers, as well, have the same plight of wanting to feel more than just horror. I mean, this generation does seem to be the one giving the most credence and evidence that just because something looks good doesn't mean it is. Given all these demands for change, I don't know if horror films like these are a secondary demand for change or a caution that things are changing. Either way, it looks like these up-and-coming horror filmmakers have inherited some good techniques.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Good work, A24. See you at Oscar time!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">RATING: Three-and-a-half stars out of four</span></div>
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Stephen Bankshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10822184343035935418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8874585249961538138.post-41185900190120450872018-06-14T02:19:00.000-04:002018-06-14T02:19:49.766-04:00Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">You know, it's funny how life unfolds.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">You start off creating these elaborate plans to keep yourself well-versed with the <i>Star Wars</i> canon, moreso polishing yourself and shaking off any rust. You plan to finish the half of the Star Wars films you haven't seen, or in the case of <i>Attack of the Clones</i>, haven't seen in a while, but then life overworks you, you get sidetracked, box office returns for the newest effort take a surprising turn for the negative, and then you just have to say...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Today, <i>Solo</i> will be judged solo.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The film centers on the lovable scoundrel himself, Han Solo, beginning as a child criminal from Corellia. As a member of a gang, he steals in exchange for food and shelter. However, he attempts to escape Corellia with his girlfriend, Qi'ra, and while he manages to escape, Qi'ra is stopped by officers and Solo vows for their reunion. After a failed stint in the Navy, he soon pairs up with a criminal, Tobias Beckett, and one Wookie, Chewbacca, and they all head off on an adventure to steal a fuel source, coaxium, all along the way encountering a smuggler, Lando Calrissian, and a reunion with Solo's girlfriend, Qi'ra, which may include some dark, awkward implications.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Honestly, the first quarter of this film left me feeling rather empty. I think, through it all, one of my main gripes was with Han Solo himself, Alden Ehrenreich. Now, this is definitely a make-it-or-break-it type of role for him. He's usually known for being a mere aspect in films directed by Francis Ford Coppola, Woody Allen, and the Coen Brothers. He clearly surrounds himself with good company, but it's another thing to be a blockbuster leading man.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Apparently, Lucasfilm hired an acting coach for Ehrenreich shortly after receiving the role and...yeah, it shows. His initial impact and vibe for the first thirty minutes strikes as frustratingly unctuous. Every beat, every emotional shift, his delivery; all of them feel too precisely studied and too tightly disciplined. It feels less like Han Solo and more like an actor praying to God that the audience buys him as Solo.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">However, it doesn't help that Solo as a character is hampered by a leaden, generic, appallingly rudimentary story in the movie's opening. This character, who has produced a legacy of being charmingly edgy, has his backstory curtailed to being an ambitious, loose cannon with a heart of gold, who is determined to be a pilot, despite him being an undisciplined ruffian. Oh, and his main pursuit is simply a girlfriend, because apparently, <i>Star Wars</i> films really like to take characters with ambiguous backgrounds and gargantuan spirits and dilute that package down to, "Sigh! I need my girlfriend back. Fuck power! Fuck the Force! I need love!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The story begins so underwhelmingly that the most simple revelations of Solo's backstory feel contrived and forced. For example, it turns out Han Solo's name was given by a Naval officer because, fuck it, he has no family and he's there Solo. For a name with such gravity and such innumerable possibilities, it seems to be introduced, resolved, and brushed over rather abruptly. Or how about the fact that Solo's meeting of Chewbacca boiled down to Chewbacca was going to eat him and Solo managed to talk/roar his way out of it. Ignoring the fact that he doesn't speak Wookie to Chewbacca for the rest of the film, why couldn't there have been another monster trying to eat Solo and Chewbacca saves him from it? That would be more interesting than this humdrum, too-recycled-even-for-Disney route.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">On that note, the first 30 minutes of the film showcases Tobias being happy with his lady and...well, I'm sure you can follow where I'm going with this. The story and the characters in the beginning are interpreted and realized so thinly and without any sort of pizzazz or vitality that it stultifies the action sequences. You just sit there watching movement...I guess...and speed...I guess, but there's nothing to engage or rile up the viewer. So yeah, the first half-hour or so is deadly dull.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">And then, something happens.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The movie, specifically director Ron Howard (welcome to the galaxy, Mr. Cunningham) and screenwriter Lawrence Kasdan (Luke, HE is your father), along with his son, Jonathan Kasdan, realize that Solo and all of the characters are physical beings, but work better as components. It dawned on me while I was watching this that this franchise is the most universal, cinema franchise for a reason. It's the superlative, most uniform example of the "greater sum of parts." The pacing, the visuals, the characters, the story, the motivations, the emotions, the philosophies, the logistics, the locations, the make-up</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">; all of these factors ne</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">ed to be attuned with each other, in order to make a successful <i>Star Wars</i> film. If one aspect either lags or is too heavily punctuated and honed in on over another aspect, something's gonna feel off.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The solo reason (haha) why the first fourth of the film is so dull is because it focuses on the least interesting parts. We don't care about Solo's romance because it's a romance, but because of the alchemy and charm behind it. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">And that's what Ehrenreich, admittedly, does receive after a rocky start: charm. When he's allowed to stop trying to stand out on his own and instead is allowed to immerse himself in this world, <b>that</b> is when we see the dogged charisma that Harrison Ford laid the groundwork for. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">However, the other actors manage to stand out, as well. Woody Harrelson as Tobias Beckett supplies his idiosyncratic, delirious charm and furious, menacing spirit. Emilia Clarke, justifiably, goes from <i>Game of Thrones</i> to <i>Star Wars</i>, playing Qi'Ra. Much like Ehrenreich, she becomes much more intriguing as she grows out of a mere love-struck damsel and fleshes out into a torn, trapped, and vulnerable lady. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">And then, there's our universal black Everyman, Donald Glover as Lando Calrissian. While, admittedly, he does struggle in some of the emotional moments, he spotlights the screen with a self-content smile that never leaves and his devilishly mellifluous baritone. Apparently, Billy Dee Williams himself instructed Glover to just be charming when portraying Lando. Thanks for the lesson, Mr. Williams. Now, we can have Glover for life, yes?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">In addition, once the film becomes more surefooted, the action sequences become much more exciting. Also, in a shocking turn of events, Williams has turned over primary musical composition duties to John Powell, with Williams only contributing the basic themes. However, I never would have known, because Powell's score is just as soaring and sweeping as William's.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I guess it's fitting that Ron Howard directed this. I would describe him as a competent director, but not a masterful one. In most of the films I've seen from him (<i>Apollo 13</i>, <i>The Da Vinci Code, The Grinch</i>), his ambition and energy are bar none, but his execution always seems too precisely quantitative. He knows just what action sequence goes here, what antidote goes here, what heartfelt moment goes here, but he never really seems to transcend beyond that. His movies are effective, but not necessarily masterpieces. However, while he may lack in a genteel, exquisite style, he makes up for in entertainment.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">It definitely must've made for both an interesting and strenuous experience for Howard, what with it being his first <i>Star Wars</i> film to direct and one where he had to reshoot 70% of it, but Howard usually manages to do just enough. And here, he's done just enough. Donald Glover Beautifully Smiling for An Hour...er...I mean, <i>Solo: A Star Wars Story</i> is a solid place-holder in the Star Wars universe.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">As a solo effort, it works just fine.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">RATING: Three out of four stars</span></div>
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Stephen Bankshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10822184343035935418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8874585249961538138.post-32804548541727804542018-05-17T05:10:00.002-04:002018-05-17T05:10:25.209-04:00Tully (2018)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In my eyes, the rapport of Jason Reitman and Diablo Cody proves to be one of the most eminent examples of cinematic "checks and balances." If one were to overpower the other, it could easily lead to things going awry. Jason Reitman is quite adept at adding a real heartfelt nature to his films, but at any given moment, one wrong turn or one precipitous decision could make it feel dissonant and tame. Diablo Cody has knife-edged sensibilities in relation to dialogue, but if left with too much power, it too has the potential to veer into the territory of self-impressed, contrived, annoyingly snarky, and vain hipness meant for the writer to chuckle at.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">While both these individuals haven't <b>really</b> produced a "failure" or "miscalculation," they are both such disparate, eccentric filmmakers that you are almost waiting for the other shoe to drop. However, when together, they manage to create deliriously offbeat, yet stunningly humane films; films in which you can see the synergy and feel the sincerity. While <i>Young Adult</i> remains unseen by me, <i>Juno</i>, in my book, is the epitome of the all-encompassing vision and paradigm for a Cody/Reitman film: a quirky protagonist trying to figure out life, most often than not hiding behind Cody's acerbic, quick-witted dialogue, yet slowly exhibiting raw, unfathomable emotions.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">However, with their most recent film, they've seemed to strip away, or at least understate, the gleeful quirkiness and hyper-sassy inclinations of their previous works and emphasize an emotional core more helplessly bruised than an apple used for a game of racquetball. It's bitter, it's eccentric, it's often painful, and it's a Cody/Reitman film. This time, they've introduced us to <i>Tully</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Well, moreso Marlo, played by Charlize Theron. She's a mother of two and has recently given birth to a baby girl. However, her existence is anything but glamorous. She drudges through life disheveled and tired. She's let herself go, has no substantial emotional support from her husband, and her son has developmental issues, which cause him to be removed from school. At the suggestion of her brother, Marlo hires a night nanny, Tully, to care for the baby. Day by day, nursing session after nursing session, they form a special bond, which seems to enliven Marlo. However, how long shall this last?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Much like Marlo, this films drudges at a very quiet, muted pace, in a good way. In fact, the film doesn't particularly progress narratively, but veraciously. It doesn't exist to tell a story, but to showcase a barely living soul. Yes, we get Diablo Cody's typical brand of sharp, searing humor, but here, especially early on, any anecdote strikes coldly. Sometimes, vestiges of dark humor are sneaked in obliquely, such as Marlo and Tully having a heart-to-heart, all the while stealing bikes. This film subverts a content, fulfilling dream into a land of brutal seclusion. The characters, in the beginning, have scant emotional interactions. The aura, however, never feels one of detestation, but merely attempted adjustment. Life's a drone, but they know why they resume with the course of their lives.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">It's rather refreshingly ironic that the emotional core of the film is it's weirdest character, Tully. She's a free spirit, she seems to have a very askew understanding of personal space, and hell, she encourages Marlo into having a threesome with her and Marlo's husband. She seems to almost have a quasi-homoerotic fascination with Marlo. She, along with a public school teacher from one scene, are some of the oddest characters and they're written with the most vim. This film seems to argue that unorthodox is, at the very least, exciting and relationships like these can be the most stimulating. The fact that Tully is a night nanny also introduces a special edge that works to the film's advantage. The dark, shaded, isolation of the night time makes it the most auspicious time for these ladies to fortify their bond.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">However, given a succeeding plot twist (God have mercy to <b><u>ANYONE</u></b> who shall soil it for the unknown), it becomes apparent that Tully is more than just a name. It's a position, a service, an unorthodox, invigorating individual. Sometimes, it's found in the most unlikely of places. The way the film expresses this and brings it all home is the most crushing, devastating, yet fervently uplifting portion of the film. In true Cody/Reitman fashion, it's both life-affirming and disillusioning all at the same time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">One aspect of the film that I particularly noticed moreso than other Cody/Reitman films was the cinematography. Frequent Reitman collaborator, Eric Steelberg, has produced some of the most inciting, evocative camerawork I've ever seen. His camera seems to be as riveted and on edge as the viewers. The framing is, curiously, off-kilter at times, with some aspects of the shot not being totally in focus or only half in focus, but it manages to be the most assuredly applicable method of displaying the ennui and anguish of Marlo. All the while, is it aggressively taut and painfully observant.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Centered directly in front of that camera is the plaintive, haunting, checked-out face of Charlize Theron, delivering one of her strongest performances of her career. While she is physically presented as neglecting her body and flushing from her face and her skin spotlighting all of the particular blemishes, Theron emotionally uses very little embellishments. It's as if she has detached herself externally from any patent expressions of visceral exacerbation, but internally she is slogging through an unrelenting, unbearable battle. It's a staggeringly powerful, unadorned acting job, with her weapons of choice being a woeful, unfortunate comic timing, and an exhausted drained daze that says nothing and everything simultaneously. Her few histrionic outbursts are all parts hilarious, robust, and heartbreakingly captivating.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">However, as strong as Theron is, I refused to overlook the transfixing performance of Mackenzie Davis as Tully. This role is actually a relatively tough one, because it would be so simple to be trapped in the pitfalls of the clichéd guardian/angelic helping hand who smiles, inspires, magically heals all of the problems, and leaves. What Davis does it that she never comes off as unctuous. Within two minutes of her appearance, she establishes Tully as a stoic, vibrant, entranced, and undisciplined young woman. She dons a hopeful gleam in her eyes, yet secretly radiates complexities that never seem to be fully addressed, resolved, or discussed about.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">During this film, I never felt that I was watching it. I felt like I was experiencing it. I wasn't watching Theron transmogrify her body. I saw a mother who had given up trying to better herself. I saw Diablo Cody not writing dialogue, but boldly, brazenly letting out a therapeutic ululation for stressed-out mothers. I saw Jason Reitman not creating, but <b>allowing</b>; allowing us to laugh with, cry with, and pity this woman stuck in a beautifully hopeless part of her existence. Yes, I understand the aforementioned plot twist can be seen as quite damning, but the way I see it, it merely delivers the message that we all need a Tully. Sometimes, it just takes a moment to take a look in front or beside of you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">This isn't Diablo Cody or Jason Reitman's best film, but it's their most tragically consummate one. Throughout this film, I felt that this was the signal for the end of a chapter. Given the go-for-broke, subversive spirit and tilted humanity of <i>Juno</i> and <i>Young Adult</i>, this feels like what happens when that type of heedless immaturity and vital persistence comes to a dead end, leaving behind a battered, nakedly broken, lost soul. I can almost imagine Cody and Reitman saying to each other, "Now what?" after filming concluded. Whether you two have a few more films in you or not, I can only hope that you two can keep each other in line.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Also, Charlize, you can rough-up yourself all you want. You <b>literally</b> are still smoking hot, no matter how stretchy your skin is.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">RATING: An enthusiastic three stars out of four</span></div>
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Stephen Bankshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10822184343035935418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8874585249961538138.post-90664958278831285362018-04-26T04:35:00.000-04:002018-04-26T04:35:22.304-04:00A Quiet Place (2018)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You know, I think I've put my finger even harder on the true reason that modern horror films have been so stodgy. Now, for the record, I do feel that horror films have seen a minor shift of improvement, particularly with films such as <i>Don't Breathe</i> and <i>Get Out</i>. However, the positive reception of these films, in retrospect, seems less like mere surprise for such solid pieces of filmmaking and more like a desperately relieved expression of gratitude. It's as if one were trapped on a desert island for weeks and starving, then some random deus-ex-machina arrived with three years worth of Thanksgiving dinners, complete with apple pies.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">However, to me, there is one element crucial to a strong, effective, palpable horror film: surprise. Now, this sounds relatively basic, but think about it. The feeling of horror stems from uncertainty, the unknown. Yes, shock can play into a horror film's appeal and strengths and it often does, but what filmmakers forget is that the shock is the aftermath, never the forethought. When a victim is about to be killed in a slasher film, the horror lies not particularly in the killing, but the lack of knowing beforehand as to whether they will be OK or not. The best supernatural horror films worked because (a) the uncertainty of the supernatural force or its source and (b) whether or not anyone will survive. Hell, even jump scares, at their core, can be scary because they deceived you into a false sense of comfort. You surrendered your conflicting thoughts of uncertainty and built a trust in the moment, only to have it be bludgeoned directly after.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The problem is that Hollywood typically thinks, plans, and executes according to trends. So, once a trend is spotted, there goes the surprise. So long were the days of shocking slasher films, because once it was all about being shocking, there went the initial, identifiable appeal that made them stand out. Gone were the days of scary supernatural horror films of the unknown because...shit, it wasn't unknown anymore! Everything was telegraphed and as easily marketable as possible.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">And with <i>A Quiet Place</i>, it does seem to have an aura in the advertisements as a more marketable version of <i>Don't Breathe</i>. This could, possibly, be in part due to it being centered around a family, having slightly more prominent actors, and it seems to use word-of-mouth more to its cunning avail. So, seeing how it comes across as a more marketable version of one of the most unique, tense horror films of this decade, surely there's nothing more that could be added to a film with a similar premise, right?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Well...all I'll say is that <i>A Quiet Place</i> is actually quite an uncomfortable place, in ways better than its competition.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The films begins in a quasi-<i>I Am Legend</i> fashion. The year is 2020 and many places have been virtually evacuated. Stores are derelict and practically overturned and there's an unsettling serenity that lingers over these areas. Well, that's because sightless creatures are lurking about and when they detect a noise, they're ready to kill. In one town, Lee and Evelyn are married with three children and one on the way, trying to survive from these creatures. It's made harder on them when one of their three children, the youngest of the three, is killed by one of these creatures. Through it all, they valiantly do everything in their power to survive, with Lee trying to send a distress signal for them to be rescued.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I think it's revealing that <i>Don't Breathe</i> is a really good film and yet, this film manages to be 10 times better, specifically for two reasons. One: the situation and atmosphere are more dire. In <i>Don't Breathe</i>, there were brief pauses in the suspense to whisper and formulate. Plus, the last third kinda turned into a <i>Human Centipede</i>-esque, quasi-gross out film, albeit very muted and very well-done. Here, sound is virtually abolished and the creatures aren't some manipulative, cunning creeps. They're spry, bloodthirsty monsters, who will strike at even an ioda of recognizable sound. So, there is very sparse time to regroup and out-think them. If they catch you, there's no turning back.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">This film really is scarier than <i>Don't Breathe</i>. It is the first horror film where I actually had to cover my eyes, because I was that horrified for these characters. Director/co-writer John Krasinski (yes, "Jim from <i>The Office</i>" John Krasinski) plays around so much more with the idea of sound being your worst enemy. In this film, though, it seems to dive into more about the need for liberation; the need for release. You pray for sound, just so they don't have to feel confined, yet you dread any sound because it could indicate their swift, fatal downfall.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">And that need for liberation slightly plays into the other reason why this film is better than <i>Don't Breathe</i>: the emotional investment. In <i>Don't Breathe</i>, there was some substantial, shrewd character development, but it wasn't exactly bloated with transcendent, heartfelt emotion. Now, this isn't a disadvantage on <i>Don't Breathe</i>'s side. It probably wouldn't have been as good if it <b>did</b> try to be heartfelt or emotionally raw. This film tries for that and it works extraordinarily well to its advantage. Not only are the characters adequately developed, but they all have a sweet, damaged core to them, seeing how they are all reeling from the loss of a family member.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The emotion of the film is firmly established and explored with before the tense scenes, making the characters more identifiable. The most gripping scenes were, obviously, the horror scenes. However, the most <b>powerful</b> scenes, the ones that lingered the heaviest, were the emotional scenes. One specific scene is straightforward in execution, oblique in meaning, and poignant in feeling. It's a scene that occurs between Lee and his son. They have experienced some liberation, as they are able to talk and yell at a waterfall where the creatures can't hear them. Eventually, they have a talk relating to the events that killed his younger brother. Lee says, "It's no one's fault," then it immediately cuts to Evelyn back at the house, crying. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">In this scene, Lee and the son are able to relieve some stress and anguish, but she is unable to. She needed to hear that, too, to feel, again, some liberation, but in that moment, she is still carrying that pain, that emotional baggage, in addition to the horror of anybody leaving the house not returning. The potency of this scene makes it one of the strongest emotional moments of this or any other horror film. Another scene that stood out in the emotional department is during the morning after Evelyn gives birth. They both say, "It's a boy," but monotonously, with no joy, no verve, and undistracted by the situation at hand. They have not been put in any position to revel in this moment or enjoy it and given their environment, you can hear the mature, controlled level of not guilt, but moreso fear that strikes them in the soul. They have another body that could be gone as swiftly as it came. It's astounding how a horror film can pack an emotional punch on a human level, not just a visceral, self-inserting level.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">On a technical level, this film excels at well. In a film focused on sound, they certainly use it in hauntingly effective ways. When any mere sound occurs, it's punctuated with all the bombast of a <i>Transformers</i> battle. To be fair, it could've just been me seeing it in Dolby in a reverberant, interactive chair, but given how the sound editors also worked on <i>Transformers</i> films, I'm going to just assume they know what they're doing. Even further, specific moments have no diagenic sound at all, in order to reflect the perspective of the daughter, who is deaf. A certain sound from hers does play into the climax and while I did go back and forth on whether I thought it was satisfactory or too simplistic, I feel that, in the end, it's clever how it's utilized.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The score, composed by former Wes Craven collaborator Marco Beltrami, has a specific motif to it, which adds to the ambiance. It's as if he, too, is aware of the character's limitations of sounds and uses the repetitiveness of the music as a way to keep everything in balance and safe. Wise work, Mr. Beltrami. The cinematography by Charlotte Bruus Christensen is beautifully brutal and dour. What's surprising is that for a film based on taut limitations, the shots are vast and wide and aren't claustrophobic in the slightest, which adds more seclusion and pain. Sure, the shots of the forest look gorgeous, but it is all imbued with that debasing feeling of separation and loneliness. Granted, there are some tight shots, but only when the tensions mounts up. Whatever the tone, Christensen uses the camera deftly and impeccably. The creatures themselves, while CGI, are actually some of the most realistic creatures I've seen in a horror film. They are actually crafted with a lot of detail and grotesque personality, particularly when the film hones it on the creatures' ear canals.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">And of course, seeing how the emotion of the film is so powerful, the performances are all excellent. John Krasinski and Emily Blunt are married in real life, so it makes the chemistry and closeness of their characters of Lee and Evelyn all the more tangible, believable, and moving. Krasinski has a contemplative, emotionally intuitive, warmly thoughtful vibe that I've ever seen from him and Emily Blunt probably gives her best performance yet, being naturally sycophantic to fit the moment, which seeing how the director's her husband...yeah, I guess that's kind of a given. Her performance balances a humble pluckiness and a searing vulnerability, particularly in a scene where she has to hide from the creatures, all the while struggling with an injury. Oh, and while giving birth, too.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The performances are all great because they don't exaggerate or indicate the emotions. To complement the minimal audio, they play their characters simply and gently, only ratcheting up the emotion when it's fitting. The best student of this technique of raw naturalism is young up-and-comer Millicent Simmonds, playing the deaf daughter (while being deaf in real life) with a relatable defiance, a controlled sense of pathos, and a mild sneer.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">You know, in an era where most, if not all forms of entertainment, are fighting to be symbolic, or outspoken, or trying to be complimentary with current, topical issues and climates, it's refreshing to see a film that's just a straightforward, scary film with a mildly subversive twist. I hear John Kransinski himself trying to preach that this film is supposed to be both a metaphor for parenthood and for our political situation. While I understand what he's trying to say, can't we all just enjoy entertainment for being entertainment, like we used to, every now and then? Just this once? However, I'm not upset or mad at him for this. I think this stems from something that actually is an enlightening thing to witness: we're getting bored with <u>merely</u> entertainment. Millennials, Generation Z, whomever you want to label, we want to progress, we're working towards progression, and we want our entertainment to reflect that. While I'm pleased to see creators of any form of media play around with satire or with complex social commentary, I choose to view this film as entertainment that manages to be horrifying, heartfelt, and technically adroit.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Wow, Michael Bay! You actually can be subtle. All you need is to keep letting other people direct movies for you. Sounds like a plan to me!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">RATING: Three-and-three-quarters stars out of four</span></div>
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Stephen Bankshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10822184343035935418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8874585249961538138.post-72378275471841396132018-04-19T02:56:00.002-04:002018-04-19T02:56:18.333-04:00Love, Simon (2018)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I can only describe it, assumedly, as being preternaturally complementary, mildly annoying, and a lethargic default when a really solid, critically-acclaimed, emotionally accurate teenage film is compared to the works of John Hughes. We've all seen it happen more than once and at first glance, it doesn't particularly seem to make sense. While of course it's <b>easier</b>, albeit less artistically nor personally fulfilling, to make a bad teen film, as opposed to a good one, and we suffered through an epoch of pretty juvenile, insufferable ones, typically relying on crude humor rather than crude truths, the good teen films we have received lately aren't exactly scant in supply.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">However, what those good teen films have now that the good John Hughes teen films had then were an unfiltered perceptiveness of teenage sensibilities, legitimate humor that bridged the generational gap of the audience, an affectionate identifiability for their characters, and a variously executed, yet primordial feeling of isolated anguish.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I could create a post comprised solely of the names of these modern teenage films that possess these attributes, but today, we're talking about love...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Simon.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The film centers around our aforementioned protagonist. On the surface, he has a happy life with a warm, sweet-natured family and very dear friends. However, he has a deep secret: he is a closeted homosexual. The pressure to maintain this secret becomes slightly more bearable, in the wake of becoming online pen-pals with a secret admirer, who happens to go to his school and is also in the closet. In the midst of strengthening this developing relationship and trying to find the man behind the messages, he also must help a fellow schoolmate try and get with one of his friends or else his secret will be revealed to the entire school.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I could begin by merely reiterating the obvious cultural significance and emotional, moral bravura of having the homosexual identity of a character be the narrative focus of a film, but I'd rather discuss what makes it so strong in the context of this film and other teenage coming-of-age films, because much like Simon, there's more beneath the surface. Most coming-of-age films are about exhibiting the psychological and emotional metamorphosis of a character (hence the term, coming-of-age), but in most of those, it's usually facilitated and affiliated with a love relationship between the character and another, typically of the opposite sex, or it's linked with an incipient friendship and all its peaks, valleys, and revelations. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">In this film, yes, the plot revolves around Simon trying to figure out his mystery lover, but the main atmosphere of his story can be described with an adjective I just used: isolation. It's not the simplistic trope of one character bringing another character out of his shell or making him think more maturely. Most teen films rely on rapport, but this film is first and foremost about Simon discovering himself as a gay man. It's not about someone else necessarily making him grow, but about <b>him</b> growing on his own. The interactions with his mystery lover, while they do give him some valor and motivation, don't bring him totally out of his comfort zone. Because the other person involved is anonymous, the mood of the film is still taut, anxious, and once again, isolated, which mirrors the tangible feeling of dealing with your sexuality.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">One specific feat of the film is that Simon's plight for concealing his sexuality doesn't center around intolerance, ostracization, or derision per se. Hell, he describes his family as "progressive." It's merely based around his contentedness on when he chooses to come out. One of the most emotionally effective scenes is when Simon berates a character for putting him into an awkward position, simply stating, "I wanted to come out on my own time and you took that away from me."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">t's not always about the environment or about self-doubt, but rather a matter of specific, </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">desired timing. Teenagers don't typically get to choose their schedules for anything. Their sexuality and when they choose to disclose it is usually (emphasis on usually) the one thing they can control. Kudos to screenwriters Issac Aptaker and Elizabeth Berger for being able to comment on this, giving the gay-identity narrative a more heartfelt, honest, stripped-down angle to it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Also, kudos to the screenwriters and for director Greg Berlanti for crafting a film this riotously funny. Not only is it funny, not only is it penetratingly funny, not only is it skeweringly funny, but it gives the opportunity for all of the characters to be funny. There are a lot of teen films that disproportionately allocate the humor, giving big laughs to some characters and mere cutesy, kitschy jokes for others. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">This film is refreshingly inclusive, not only giving us big laughs from the teen characters, but from the parents, the principal (played with sheer, awkward virtuosity by Tony Hale), and even from the black drama teacher, who gets some real gut-busters. One example being when she confiscates a mini audio speaker from two troublemaking students and states she's going to sell it and use the money to get her tubes tied.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The performances are also uniformly, specifically precise. Nick Robinson has all the courage, vulnerability, and angst needed for the role of Simon, Jennifer Garner gives one of her most inviting, natural performances in years as Simon's mother, Josh Duhamel is stunningly, complexly fragile as Simon's dad, Logan Miller has a helplessly awkward gusto that he lends to the role of Martin, the schoolmate who blackmails Simon, and this film also managed to rope in two actors from <i>Thirteen Reasons Why</i> (Miles Heizer as Cal and Katherine Langford as Leah, one of Simon's closest friends). Given the themes of that show, they basically are legally required to give good performances, which they do.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">HOWEVER...I do have one gripe with this film and I will do my best to explain without the use of spoilers, but it involves a fallout with Simon and his friends. For a film that's so meditative and insightful about gay identity and coming out and what not, I felt that this particular scene needed to be more thoughtful. There were so many more nuances and quiet, profound, emotionally consummate beats that could've been tapped into had they chosen a more warm, empathetic, and mature approach to this moment, instead of focusing on, in the grand scheme of things, mild errors on Simon's part and trying to penalize him at his most emotionally fragile state of being, without realizing the root cause.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Despite this, I commend this film. I commend this film for being able to make sexual identity both a hardship and a normalcy. I commend this film for being biting with its humor and with its truths. To me, this is the Same Love of "gay movies." It's not the first example of this kind of film. It's not the most harrowing example of this kind of film, but it's a universal breakthrough; that one step closer for the term "gay movie" to be not some simplistic appellation, but merely a component that doesn't define, but complements a film. And for that, I thank you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Love, Stephen.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">RATING: Three-and-a-half stars out of four</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></div>
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Stephen Bankshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10822184343035935418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8874585249961538138.post-27579517715199347822018-04-11T04:57:00.000-04:002018-04-11T04:57:01.771-04:00Black Panther (2018)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><i>Foreword</i>: "Oh, Stephen! Great timing! Way to get on this on the dregs of its popularity." I...well...eh.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">So, I think it's official now. Sorry to all the milquetoast, simple-film-palate-possessing, sappy, romance-yearning, middle-aged, suburban white women of America, but black people have officially claimed and annexed the month of February, as far as movies go. The full-on invasion came last year with <i>Get Out</i>, a horror film that not only confronted the shrillness of white oblivion and ignorance and the ugliness of white, pseudo-bleeding heart passivity and sanctimony, but also delivered on its own as an eccentric, dark, penetrating comedy and an engrossing, visually unique horror film with a pro-black twist. Seriously, the black guys survived in the end. If that isn't iconoclastic of horror tropes, I don't know what is.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">This year, we have...well, you've seen the title of the review, the box office returns, the impact it's had on the audience, the mystifying amount of toy revenue, which has since been stalled due to short supply, and you're still listening to Pray for Me on the radio, either voluntarily because it's rad or involuntarily because...fuck it, it's either this or Post Malone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I can only purport that this is an ancillary cultural riposte to the Trump presidency; an effort by African-American filmmakers to rebut his notion of making America great again by making February at the movies great again. This is <i>Black Panther</i>! Hear it roar!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The film takes place in Wakanda, formed ions ago when four of five African tribes united after a war over a meteorite containing vibranium. When a warrior ingested an herb containing the material, he became the Black Panther. Vibranium is used in Wakanda to produce advanced technology and sustain their world, which is subterranean beneath a Third World country. T'Challa becomes the Black Panther after his father's death. When Erik Killmonger and Ulysses Klaue steal a Wakandan artifact, T'Challa, along with fellow Wakandian native, Okoye, and his former lover, Nakia head off to find and arraign them. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">However, it is soon discovered there is more to Killmonger. He actually is the cousin of T'Challa, whose father killed Kilmonger's for spreading the secret of vibranium outside of the secure parameters of Wakanda. When Killmonger confronts what he sees as sheer betrayal to his fellow brothers and a disgustingly selfish refusal to help the world outside of Wakanda, he fights to seize the throne and become the Black Panther.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">It's one thing for a superhero movie to excel due to a grand vision, a cult of personality, and visually striking, enthralling entertainment, but this is the first superhero film I see that is purely, unmitigatedly driven through vicious emotion and provocative, searing content. This film has so many cogent statements and allegories of black power, black culture, and black progression, sometimes expressed in straightforward, bold lines or through scraping, biting humor.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Consider a scene where Okoye dons a wig to look casual when on the trail to find Klaue. She says to Nakia, "I can't wait to get this thing off my head," celebrating black hair, or in her case, no hair, and attacking not just the stigma of black hair, but those who actively attempt to smother, forcibly conceal, and outwardly sublimate their natural style for cultural acceptance and to abscond ridicule. Or how about another scene where Erik Stevens, a white CIA officer who ends up allying with T'Challa, is barked at by an African tribe, identically to how blacks were barked at by...you see where I'm going with this. That specific moment is one of the most brazenly brilliant scenes I've seen in the MCU, in black cinema, and in all of cinema.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">It's also enlightening, albeit completely applicable, that the superheroism of this universe is not a gross, lucky error or some horrid permutation, but actual <b>power</b>; a standard to strive and aspire for. It's not something to conceal or employ as a gimmick for an alter ego, but something to embrace and exhibit loudly and proudly and also is embedded intrinsically. However, there is one theme that is conveyed both naturally and allegorically: black loyalty. This film seems to abhor betrayal on all parts: Killmonger's betrayal toward the protocol and structure of Wakanda, T'Chaka and N'Jobu's betrayals toward each other as brothers, and T'Challa's betrayal to the outside, indigent world. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The film doesn't impugn radicalism, nor it is <b>solely</b> about finger-wagging at T'Challa for its seclusion and excessively stringent preservation of Wakanda, but it is moreso about finding the middle ground that preserves our bond. Destruction in the name of black grievances isn't inherently wrong, nor is a self-aggrandizing appreciation of black power, but either way, it is imperative to understand the source; the source of the destruction and the source of your acquisition of power, and determine whether or not you're justifying either. It's the ones who stand with our black brothers and sisters unconditionally that contribute to our progression and our incipient, ferocious strength.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The notion of understanding the source is, in my opinion, best conveyed in the first scene involving the Ancestral Place, which is, oddly enough, my favorite scene of the film. T'Challa enters the gorgeously, serenely dark Ancestral Place and is first confronted by the ancestors existing as black panthers. Again, how evocative and symbolic! Standing awestruck, face-to-face with black panthers who have to confront and fight the same struggles for generations and possess an almost melancholic, watchful alacrity for the next Black Panther to carry the torch. He then converses with his recently deceased father, who states, "A father's job is to prepare his child for his death. Have I failed you?" I've never cried at a movie before the half-hour mark and I still haven't, but this was the closest I've come to it. It is the apex of this film's masterful integration of content, emotion, and visual marvel.</span></div>
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On that note, let's talk about what keeps those butts into those seats. The visuals and action sequences are some of the most sprightly, rousing, and vivacious to ever exist in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. The universe of Wakanda is one of the most vivid, captivating, and awesome settings ever portrayed on screen. When Wakanda shows any portion of its universe, you are locked in, continually impressed by this self-sufficient universe, crammed with surprises, yet always functioning and portrayed as a world filled with culture, nobility, and veneration. It's the most embracing, congratulatory, stately expression of Africa in pop culture since...shit, <i>The Lion King</i>?</div>
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The battle scenes are all marvelous, as well. While it's easy to immediately draw attention to the climactic battle scene or the stakes-driven, motive-fueled duels, my favorite is the casino fight, solely because a portion of it is done in ostensibly one continuous shot. This could seem dull and dissonant if done incorrectly, but the way the camera glides, rotates, and swerves up, down, and around is utterly immaculate. I feel that several Oscars should be in order for this film, obviously in visual design, but also for set design, costume design, lighting (why not), and for cinematography.</div>
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I personally would also give an Oscar nod to the score, a.k.a. the greatest superhero movie score ever! Move over, Williams! Take notes, Elfman! Hear it and weep, Silvestri! Ludwig Goransson has crafted, as of writing this, the most sweeping score of 2018, marrying a standard orchestral score with beautiful, percussive African soundscapes and hip-hop sensibilities. Of course, at the marketing center of this film is a pulpable soundtrack produced by hip-hop's Black Panther, Kendrick Lamar.</div>
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Kudos to director/writer Ryan Coogler, for not merely having a knack for timing and for effective storytelling, but also for talent. Not only does he reunite with Goransson, but also with Michael B. Jordan, portraying Killmonger. He and all the actors deliver potent, gripping, gut-wrenchingly nuanced performances. I honestly loathe that Killmonger is being marketed as the villain, because Jordan portrays him not as villainous, but as lost and as sincerely ardent for change; as someone who wants to repair, which he was not given the luxury of. Chadwick Boseman owns this role as Black Panther, being flexible and malleable to handle the nuances and gravitas, but also genteel and confident enough that he typifies what power is, in more ways than one.</div>
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Lupita Nyong'o plays it straight more-or-less as Nakia, but her presence is one with ripe with bonhomie and a sweet nature that you can't help but admire her. She exhibits enough valorous hope to inspire change, yet never intrudes on anyone else's sensibilities because she doesn't need to. She singularly empowers herself. Danai Gurira is ferally effective as Okoye, display doughty, steadfast, warrior sensibilities and a pitch-perfect comic timing. Oh, and remember when I discussed <i>Get Out</i>? Well, I'll be damned if this film and <i>Get Out</i> share an actor: Sir Daniel Kaluuya. I recall stating in my <i>Get Out</i> review that I was uncertain as to whether his performance was star-making. I guess I was right, but hell, if it means seeing his chill, charismatic smile in more movies, that's all I really need.</div>
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This film is not escapism. Escapism is just that: an escape; a means of circumventing the wretched realities of the modern world. This film is here, forcing us to confront the ugliness and inescapable blemishes of our world. What begins as a superhero film unveils as a story of hope, but with an undercurrent of pessimism. It states that we can and should use power to forward and ameliorate the conditions of mankind, but as long as the need to sustain power exists, it'll truly never be without its kinks. </div>
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I honestly get ebullient, thinking about a child of today growing up with this film yearly. As is, he'll see the visual flair, the epic narrative, and he'll hunger for that extra action figure, but I can't wait for that boy/girl to become a man/woman and can finally <b>comprehend</b> it. I don't know if we'll have another <i>Black Panther</i> or not, but to me, it's crucial that we don't. Let's not undermine the importance of this film, a film that manages to both conform to and evade the confines of being a sheer popcorn flick with numerous marketing potential. Once the magic of those toys are relocated elsewhere, the magic of this film will stick around. It sure has for me, earning the ranking of being my favorite superhero film of all time and being my favorite film of 2018 so far.</div>
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So yeah, Marvel. On behalf of all black people, you're welcome.</div>
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RATING: Four out of four stars!</div>
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Stephen Bankshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10822184343035935418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8874585249961538138.post-30285211859888202272018-01-10T06:04:00.002-05:002018-01-10T18:11:15.938-05:00Star Wars: The Last Jedi (2017)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">You know, I think that this current time, more than never, is when audiences truly constitute what is classified as a flop. Sure, flops have existed since before the days of Ed Wood and his gobsmacking pictures, but I must ask: Has any group of consumers ever had second thoughts over their dissenting views of a film after they see it advertised as "Certified Fresh." That emblem didn't stop people from persisting that <i>The Good Dinosaur</i> is one of PIXAR's most mediocre pieces of work, or purporting that <i>La La Land</i> is overrated fluff, designed to appeal to the most pedantic, square and/or most trendy-nostalgia-loving crowd and possibly to spark a racial outcry if the Oscars night hadn't ended the way it did, or angrily insisting that <i>Star Wars: The Force Awakens</i> is an appalling facsimile; a featureless, corporate product bereft of any sort of identity...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Or from <i>The Last Jedi</i> being described as "divisive." *sigh* Time for me to jump on that hype bandwagon.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The film begins with the First Order hot on the trail of the Resistance. During battle, Poe Dameron executes a counterattack on the First Order, which is successful in context of his intentions, but causes many deaths on his part. Soon after, Finn awakes, recovering from the wounds he obtained in the previous film. He embarks on a mission, along with a mechanic named Rose, the sister of one of the women killed in the battle, to find the Master Codebreaker to earn them access onto the main Destroyer and disable their tracking device.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Meanwhile, Rey has discovered Luke Skywalker on a remote island, beleaguered, disheveled, and a self-disgraced Jedi, who believes that he should be the last Jedi. In spite of this, he begrudgingly agrees to train Rey on the Force. However, he is getting some uncomfortable vibes from her, akin to his failed protégé, Kylo Ren.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">One aspect of this film that struck me, moreso than in the last film, was the cinematography. I mean, it's gorgeous, to be sure, but it also feels more concentrated this time around. Cinematographer Steve Yedlin frames the film with such crisp focus and ferocious intent that it immediately transports the viewer and not merely engages them into this universe, but strikes it down on them in a good way. It's almost daring you not to paying attention to the obvious visual tricks (i.e. the green screen and certain obvious CGI moments) and instead instructs you to comprehend the weight of everything. It immerses the viewer into the environment and the emotions. And, oh boy, are there plenty of emotions!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">When it comes to the emotional level, this is the strongest in the <i>Star Wars</i> franchise. Every possible feeling (the sadness, the excitement, the tension, the uncertainty, the confusion, the angst) is delivered with an august boldness to it. Every emotional moment just gives a searing, aggressive punch to the gut. The action sequences are more captivating in this film, not due to the visuals themselves, but because the stakes and the ramifications are more intense. Not only does every death hit home, but every almost-death feels that much more like a frightening close call. This is the first <i>Star Wars</i> film I've seen where the characters truly seemed in peril for their life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">It is, to my surprise, also the most philosophical and the most cerebral film in the series. Director and screenwriter Rian Johnson has taken the controls of the Millennium Falcon this time and certainly possesses experience from off-beat films, such as <i>Brick</i> and <i>The Brothers Bloom</i>, to another intricate, Nolan-esque science-fiction film, <i>Looper</i>. He brings principles and ideas to this film that are second-to-none for this franchise. The idea of themes such as loss, love, failure, and regret being tackled sounds corny, but it is incredibly, powerfully cogent. The disgruntled master or the former wizard denouncing his own teachings is nothing new, but with Luke Skywalker, his perceived mistakes and his temperament and reaction to them bring a nihilistic, yet veritable edge to the film, stating that the Force shouldn't be used to deify Jedis because hell, it's not life's emollient. Life still exists, in spite of it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">It goes even further from that. In this film, the Force has telepathic benefits and Rey is able to communicate with Kylo Ren. The interaction between them is one of the most mesmerizing aspects of the film, as it's a rivalry with an element of potential respect and profundity. They both detect the same vibe in each other: the same ineffable facet that terrifies Luke Skywalker. However, Kylo wants Rey to cross over to the Dark Side and Rey wants Kylo to convert out of the Dark Side and reconnect with his good side and heal his inner trauma and turmoil, in relation to his family troubles.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">However, in the midst of all this emotional bargaining between the two, Kylo sends Rey to her own personal darkness, with Rey expecting to confront some unpleasant moments of her past, but she finds no answers. Her silver lining seems to lie in the possibility of Kylo being reformed. Luke Skywalker believes that all darkness should be avoided and when one meets with darkness, they are doomed. However, Rey believes that the cure for darkness is not to ostracize and ignore it, but rather repair it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">That element of Luke's intentional avoidance of darkness pervades through parts of the film is such fiercely, stunningly astute ways, as in a scene where [a cameo I will not spoil] encourages Luke to burn all his teachings, because the Force will still continue to exist and even states the greatest teacher is failure. Typically, I would refrain from comparing a <i>Star Wars</i> movie to <i>Inside Out</i>, but this is some of the most spellbinding screenwriting that the franchise has presented.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The film also manages to get the same great actors of the first film to ameliorate their roles this time around. I could drool over Mark Hamill's impeccable, angst-ridden revamping of Luke Skywalker for hours, as I could over John Boyega, who has thus far not done anything to sully or revert his reputation. Oscar Issac is very effective as the warm-hearted maverick, Poe Dameron. Adam Driver's emo-esque image works impressively well this time around as Kylo Ren. In Force Awakens, when he was merely this force of power, his emo vibe was too distracting and separated me from truly buying the character outside of the mask. Here, it's still present, but when focused on the character's inner conflict and struggle and coming to grips with all parts of himself and how he uses his thoughtless, mindless, insatiable desire for power as a substitute, it is colossally powerful. In this case, the actor doesn't particularly dictate the strength of the character, but moreso the character's functionality and what the character has to confront.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Daisy Redley is, once again, fantastic as Rey, allowing herself to be inquisitive, uncertain, and sensitive internally, while maintaining her surface fortitude. And, of course, Carrie Fisher is a sweetheart. As she displays her warm smile, while simultaneously bearing that plaintive, forlorn gaze, it seems as if she could detect that this would be her swan song. She portrays Princess Leia with her unalloyed heart, unbeknownst to her that she would no longer be able to. R.I.P. to the Princess, indeed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I can't say that this film tops the immaculate melding of wondrous magic and perfect escapism of <i>Empire Strikes Back</i>, my favorite <i>Star Wars</i> film to date, nor will I controvert the freshness and the ingenuity of the first film. However, this film truly is a triumph for <i>Star Wars</i> and for now. On a logical and emotional level, this film achieves heights previously inconceivable. As much as I adore J.J. Abrams, I'm already mourning for Rian Johnson, as he will not be returning to write and direct the next film. It's rather ironic that the best <i>Star Wars</i> film in years gets the solemn, glum subtitle.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Last Jedi? Fuck that. THIS is the new hope!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">RATING: Three and three-quarters stars out of four!</span><br />
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Stephen Bankshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10822184343035935418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8874585249961538138.post-9882535412018233042017-11-30T16:21:00.001-05:002017-11-30T16:21:13.811-05:00Coco (2017)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So, how does PIXAR warm us up for the feature presentation this time? The short answer: They don't, but Disney does!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The short film, <i>Olaf's Frozen Adventure</i>, is not only the longest short film to precede a Disney feature film, but it's also their best, boasting beautiful animation, winsomely sweeping music, a breezy, crisp, amusing, and gently profound story, and it provides a return to form for the characters we've grown attached to. If this is any indication, I actually endorse and am anticipating that <i>Frozen</i> sequel.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">It's also proof that both Disney and PIXAR can concurrently achieve the same outcome in the same immaculate, beautiful way. I had the same instant, infectiously visceral verdict twice. <i>Frozen</i> makes me happy. <i>Coco</i> makes me happy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Coco begins with the story of a family that got torn apart. By music, so it seemed. At first, music united a certain husband and wife, but the husband decided to go off and play to the world, leaving the wife to be a single mom. Angered, she abolished all music and began a shoemaking business, which became a family business. Throughout the years, the family had two common bonds: making shoes and hating music.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">That is, except for Miguel, who loves music, has a hobby for playing guitar, and idolizes the late musician, Ernesto de la Cruz. His zeal for music drives a wedge, at times, between him and his family. After running away, hoping to seek solace in a talent show for Dia de los Muertos and to confirm that he is his great-grandfather, he stumbles across la Cruz's old guitar. Once he strums it, he's transported to the Land of the Dead. In order to escape, he needs his family's blessing...but it may come at a cost.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">This film was a tough one. Not in terms of watching it, but critically perceiving it. I wasn't awash with adjectives, nor was I given the urge to jump out of my seat and proselytize its mature, acute ideas. I was just mesmerized throughout the whole film. To me, the greatest feat of all was how they managed to treat Mexico, not just with dignity and veneration, but also without the sanitized, outsider, Americanized attitude that can linger over films like them. I mean, sure, it's still specifically an American film. The prevailing language is English, the dialogue contains an occasional truism on family and seizing the moment, and the "action climax" sometimes feels a little technical and clichéd, in a way which you've seen in American films.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">However, the meticulous detail that has given to Mexico is whoppingly extraordinary. The Spanish they drop is relatively rudimentary and yet it still feels genuine and the niceties in speech of the locals, the all-Spanish signs, and the varied appearances of people are all on point. PIXAR has gone to space, ant farms, France, Scotland, and in prehistoric times, amongst a myriad of other locale, and yet this is the first time I felt that PIXAR immersed themselves in a world unlike their own; a world that seems bigger and more unique than they have ever experienced. Given how they are portraying Mexico, that's an enormous compliment.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">And ALL of it is exhibited and constructed with glorious animation. I said that <i>Moana</i> might just be second place, in terms of solely animation in the Disney canon. Now, it's third, because <i>Coco</i> literally has some of the most precise and perfect animation I've ever seen. Ever. The gorgeous, stately colors are perfectly lit and composed, being either evocative and redolent of Mexican culture or contributing to an awe-inspiring universe. There is so much vibrancy, vividity, and virtuosity that describing it all needs a separate thesis. The character designs can be cartoony, but given how the humor is solid, that's just an aspect of the film. There happens to be a dog in this film, similar to the chicken in <i>Moana</i>, but way superior, because he (1) has more an emotional range and (2) is given more to do. The Even the design of Coco, Miguel's great-great grandmother is resplendent, showcasing every wrinkle and squint to represent her debilitating condition.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">In this progressive, bleeding-heart, delicate time in America, it can be seen as either a shrewd personal decision or a shrewd <b>corporate</b> decision on PIXAR's part to cast all Hispanic actors for the voices. Either way, it's a wonderful, gracious decision, as all the actors are perfect, especially ostensibly-12-year-old Anthony Gonzalez, who gives Miguel the innocent strength, juvenile boldness, wide-eyed, effervescent zeal, and the emotional heft needed for the role, as well as displaying an infectious charisma and nuance in the musical sequences. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Speaking of which, it would be a sin to have a PIXAR film with a music-centered narrative and not have music. And when one sets the stage of this having to do with Mexican culture and the recruit at hand is Michael Giacchino, you get a wonderfully indigenous, buoyant, and effective soundtrack, which does include some tunes all sung in Spanish. The song of the film, as stated by everybody, is Remember Me, but not particularly because of the song, but because of the evolutionary journey it travels. First, it's a cute song, then it's used humorously as "the obvious song," and finally, it's used as a painful plea to do just that, while also adding layers of regret and sorrow. All of it is beautifully culminated in one of the most emotional, tear-jerking moments in the Disney-PIXAR collection. *sniffles* Goddamn it, PIXAR! You did it again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The story and content of <i>Coco</i> is enriching, as well. I wouldn't deem it the most influential (see the<i> Toy Story</i> films) or the most thoughtfully complex (see <i>Inside Out</i>), but it's the most emotionally effective. It manages to tackle death in a way that doesn't <b>totally</b> tackle it. This may seem like a cop-out, but how they add multiple layers to their conceits makes it all surefooted and finessed. The Land of the Dead contains the bridge, where lost ones cross over to the real world, unbeknownst to the living, to be with their families, on Dia de los Muertos. Instantly, it gives hope to not just kids, but adults that all deal with the queries and quandaries of not merely life after death, but the presence of the dead.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">However, it doesn't stop there. It turns out there's another world, unbeknownst to the <b>dead</b>. It's a world the dead are sent to when they are forgotten. To kids, this aspect may be a little disorienting or just a simple part of a unique world, but to adults, this is likely one of the most audacious and sympathetically morbid things ever seen on film, specifically those who either don't care about death or don't care where they go afterwards. The insouciance of these attitudes can be stripped away when they ponder how much they contribute <b>now</b>, as a living soul. The film, however, doesn't do it to condescend, but rather inspire to not merely to settle as a human; to actually be a stand-out, but not always in the loftiest superlative.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Through all of this, death is never perceived as the antagonist, or even particularly redoubtable. There is a death scene in the real world, but it's done offscreen. The final scene of the film reinforces this film's tenets that death is life, not merely in the sense of being the final destination, but also in the sense that the dead don't leave. While it's an idea that being presented before, the methods of visual representation, emotional connection, and thematic conveyance as done by <i>Coco</i> make it a distinct, powerful story.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">It's odd. The screening I attended was comprised all of adults. Granted, it was 9:00, but given their investment with the film, laughing, blowing their noses, wiping their eyes, akin to I, a 21-year-old, born one year after PIXAR's first film, it affirmed a specific belief of mine: the term, "just a kid's film," is more denigrating and debasing now than it ever has been before. Just because we'll always get our Emoji movies doesn't mean that the vogue isn't for children's film to progress, provoke, and challenge. Where <i>My Little Pony</i> lagged, <i>Coco</i> accomplishes, sustains, and consistently surpasses.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">It's also proved my belief that Disney and PIXAR are the gift that keeps on giving. This film, surprisingly, can act as the half of a double feature with <i>Detroit</i> (thematically, of course. Don't try this at home, kids.). Both films possess heavy racial contexts and environments. While <i>Detroit</i> dealt with a group being infiltrated and having to cope with hell, <i>Coco</i> offers hope. In presenting the beauty of a culture and group of people, the film has been treated with respect, not just by the inhabitants of that culture, but by those who view it as foreign. The film offers hope that all cultures and peoples can be treated with the same honor and humanity in real life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Also, through an ingenious plot twist that I won't spoil, this films offers us the image of an evil, maniacal, dissolute, arrogant figure beloved by many being exposed and censured for being a fraud, a phony, and a criminal. Given what's currently going on in Hollywood and our own society, this is both commentary and wishful thinking. Although, to all you PIXAR execs, keep it in your pants and/or to yourself. I want to belief the insertion of this aspect of this film is allegorical of the ills of our society, not ironic and hapless in revealing the ills of you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">RATING: Four out of four stars!</span><br /></div>
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Stephen Bankshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10822184343035935418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8874585249961538138.post-6721822023574141942017-10-23T03:28:00.000-04:002017-10-23T03:28:08.505-04:00It (2017)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Y'all know that the sole reason that this film is solid is because they covered the best part of the original film, right? Like, are you guys sincerely anticipating part two? I mean, if you are eagerly awaiting for a mummy being warded off by birdcalls, then...different strokes, I suppose.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">It's funny. The history of Stephen King film adaptations, be it in theaters or on television, could not be further from spotless than if it was recorded in a notebook doused in warm water and then splattered with Gerber baby food. We all know the classics...and we all know the failures. And yet, out of all of them, the most captivating with audiences seems to be <i>Stephen King's It</i>. But why? Well, I guess that outside of the primary fear presented in the film, which has deemed the film "scary," it's also been the one that's been examined the most critically in the years after its release, with the prevailing discovery being that...*gasp*...it's actually not very scary. Or very structured. Or very good.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">While the original, as a whole, is underwhelming (and, at times, ridiculous), I do admit that the first half is effective. Cornball at times, but still effective. Coming 5 years after one of the best film adaptations of a Stephen King work of fiction, <i>Stand By Me</i>, the first half is adept in creating an ambience of naïve uncertainty, bravado, and natural camaraderie.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">This film is that first half seen through the lens of 2017. Which means better.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The film takes place in Derry, Maine, a town that is witnessing a painful epidemic of missing children. According to the film, deaths and disappearances occur six times the national rate in Derry, Maine. During summer of 1989, seven children are being terrorized by Pennywise the Dancing Clown, personifying each of their most deepest traumas and phobias and possessing the ability to attack any child, having killed the brother of one of the children, Billy, the year before. While horrified and tormented, they make it their mission to band together and destroy the monster.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">In our era steeped in a perpetual obsession with nostalgia, there is a retro feel that envelops this film. The intro is shot in such a tint that it resembles the 80s and 90s. The score is gloriously retro and evocative, composed wonderfully by Benjamin Wallfisch. Above all, this film replicates the chemistry of the children in the original film with ease and passion. However, the film melds the amiable, good-natured camaraderie of the past with a 2017 sensibility of having an unflinching, veritable perspective on life and all its niceties.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Director Andy Muschietti, following up his directorial debut, <i>Mama</i>, with this film, perceptively and sagaciously accentuates the fact that these are middle school kids and their vibes and energies are right on the money, displaying raw innocence, adolescent awkwardness, and even unremitting nastiness and puerile vulgarity. Billy, the main character, isn't particularly a leader, so much as he's just unwilling to back down. Each of the other kids manage to inhabit individual authenticities, as opposed to hiding behind their prominent traits. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Beverly demolishes the "token girl" syndromes, allowing herself to be damaged and yet living life straightforwardly, carefree, and, occasionally, even emitting acerbic irony. Ben, the fat kid, is given much more of a heart and a warm humility, rather than just being a victim, and it helps craft an inadvertent, yet a fitting, engaging, and perfectly handled love triangle between him, Beverly, and Billy. My favorite of the bunch was Richie, bearing a fiercely salacious and riotously funny potty mouth. All of the child actors are damn impressive, having the forthright, unadorned nature and spirit that the roles require. As Henry the bully, Nicholas Hamilton gives a deeply cruel and demented performance, looking very similar to the bully from the original and yet beefing him up emotionally. Bill Skarsgard one-ups Mr. Curry as Pennywise. Curry was more entertaining, but Skarsgard is the more loonier and more scarier actor, occasionally resembling Johnny Depp, if Johnny Depp actually still took challenging roles.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Speaking of which, the scares. How are they? Well, to elaborate, the purpose of the novel and the original film, outside of compounding half of America's coulrophobia, seems to ostensibly be to combine fear and tragedy. Fear can spring from tragedy, or they can even be synonymous with each other. I can't speak for the novel, but in the original film, the fear aspect is the focus and seeing how it isn't incredibly scary, it falters. In this film, they coexist splendidly, not only exploiting tragedy, but also inadequacy. This allows for the film to expand, enlarge, and emphasize certain aspects of life to not just project fear, but to damage. Aspects such as racism, deadly fires, realities repeating themselves, personal losses, diseases, even the ramifications of sexual abuse (yeah, it goes there). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Because the fear is from a provenance that's identifiable and real, it highlights and intensifies the supernatural surface horror even more. Skarsgard's Pennywise outdoes the original in one crucial department: action. In the original, Curry just seemed like some growling, cartoonish monster. I guess the intent was to make him seem more cunning and studied, but...Tim Curry doesn't really <b>do</b> cunning and studied, per se. I just never felt like the kids were in any formidable danger. This film...holy shit. Pennywise is a straight up leviathan, knowing not only how to torment and allure, but how to demonstrate his intentions. There were three specific scenes, in which Pennywise lunged at the kids, all the while shrieking and shaking his head, that absolutely terrified me. All of it comes to a head in a thrilling climax that produces some of the most jaw-dropping and vibrantly freakish special effects I've seen.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">So, to condense all this and put it bluntly...pretty scary. Intelligently so, too, thanks to screenwriters Chase Palmer, Cary Fukunaga, and Gary Dauberman. Also, props to the film company for timing the release of this film to be literally one year after that crazy clown phenomenon of last year. Like...seriously, am I the only one who noticed that?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Watching this film is a breath of relief after having to watch, for the most part, mediocre horror trailers that routinely remind me that we are always going to be awashed with uninspired, churned-out dreck made merely to capitalize on tried-and-true trends, ingratiate with flashier special effects, and to satiate the most simplistic film palates. They also remind me to (a) be grateful of and cherish the shining glories even more and (b) the shining glories will never lose their luster. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">It's revealing how certain theatres have already rid themselves of six talking ponies after only two weeks and yet a month-and-a-half later, this film can still draw in a sizeable audience. I guess it's also revealing how up in arms we get when a fresh, enterprising horror film gets its 100% status unjustly stripped. What it reveals is that ingenuity and vigor is profoundly sought after in the horror genre, moreso by audiences than critics. This may not be <i>Get Out</i>, but it's...<i>It</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">So....y'all ready for part two? *groans*</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">RATING: Three-and-a-quarter stars out of four</span></div>
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Stephen Bankshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10822184343035935418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8874585249961538138.post-89548264013591645452017-10-16T01:31:00.000-04:002017-10-16T01:35:22.109-04:00My Little Pony: The Movie (2017)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Oh, what a week it's been for feminism. Not only has Harvey Weinstein been rightfully dragged through a morass of embarrassment and exploitative scandal, but I think the My Little Pony franchise may be back in the hands of the original fans.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I've elaborated on and on about how much of an astonishing and invigorating detour the MLP franchise has taken with the advent of <i>Friendship is Magic</i>. However, given the unexpected influx of male viewers, commonly known as "Bronies," it can be said that this show has been forced to allocate the adulation. While this development did help transcend gender expectations and reaffirmed the age-old adage that it's what's on the inside that counts, men have imposed an overarching, sanctimonious, haughty streak on feminism for years in a multitude of different versions. It was great that men could admit to liking something made to please little girls. However, dispersed amongst bronies is a mild aura of re-appropriation; a self-righteous, selfish, entitled latch on this franchise. Now that men was sharing a fandom with females, they feel that they must be entertained, as well; an additional group of mouths that have to be satiated.</span><br />
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Well, good news! <i>My Little Pony: The Movie</i> has cracked the code by making a cinematic translation so frothy, insular, and simplistic, it'll restore the obloquious perspective towards the men who go to see this and will proudly entertain little girls with seven years old being the maximum age.</div>
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*sighs* I'm a brony. Let's do this.</div>
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The film takes place in Equestria with Princess Twilight Sparkle setting up for the Friendship Festival, with a performance by Songbird Serenade (voiced by pop singer Sia) at the centerpiece. As Twilight and her friends prepare for the festival, catastrophe strikes! A vengeful, contentious unicorn, Tempest Shadow, comes to capture the magic of the princesses of Equestria and deliver it to her boss, The Storm King, in order to repair her damaged unicorn horn. With the other three princesses trapped, it's up to the Mane Six to restore harmony and joy to Equestria.</div>
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I'm disappointed to announce that this film doesn't have the vitality and spirit of the television series, which is currently in its superb seventh season. One aspect that drew my ire was the animation. In the television series, the animation is created through Adobe Flash, but the series has an edge to it, a unique flair to it, which draws upon multiple influences to create something stylistically singular and stunning. Here, the film was obviously was given a budget to refine and polish the animation, but surprisingly, it actually makes it look cheaper. Everything moves so sluggishly and stiltedly. The action sequences are not done with any verve or splendor. They act as merely segues from one scene to next, acting as oleaginously linear, but visually ho-hum. The animation shows such reticence and restraint, which doesn't allow for the superlative of effervescence in the characters.</div>
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In fact, the characters themselves are not as sharply presented. For the majority of the film, it seems to rely on Pinkie Pie to carry the film, bringing, to be fair, her signature zany, ruthlessly madcap humor that does translate equally on the small and big screens, making her the saving grace of this film. However, the rest of the Mane Six are seen not having personalities, but having traits, particularly to launch thin, one-dimensional gags, which only a few are amusing. Even Twilight Sparkle is a crushing bore. She's just in the forefront, not stoic or sagacious. Just a leader. Additionally, none of the emotional moments resonate whatsoever, either being perfunctory or just forced.</div>
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The rest of the characters are typical uninspired stock characters, whose purpose are only for the Mane Six to come in, charm them, and then move on to the next, with the exception of the seaponies, voiced with much fervor and energy by Uzo Aduba and Kristen Chenoweth. Tempest Shadow, while seemingly having potential for more depth in the beginning, unfolds into a predictable arc. Grubber, the henchman to Tempest, is a labored attempt at comic relief, who wears out his welcome real quick. And the Storm King? What a dull villain, acting more as an unrealized, lukewarm, satirical blueprint for a <b>comic</b> villain than a full-fledged villain.</div>
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I'll give credit, however, to one man: composer Daniel Ingram. This guy has such a distinct style of composition and songwriting, which leads to some of the strongest music in the show. This time, he outdoes himself, crafting the bounciest, catching, and enticing songs in the franchise. Most of these songs rank among the best <i>Friendship is Magic</i> songs ever and the visuals assigned to them are amiably animated and inviting. I have to get my hands on the soundtrack, but I'll have to skip that Sia song. Funny, seeing how the most middling and unimpressive song of the whole film is the one that's the lead single. Your call, Hasbro.</div>
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Throughout the film, I kept asking myself, what was the point of this movie? What was it trying to contribute to the series? What did it add? What was its purpose? I struggled to give an answer to that last one, because the humor's ratio of funny jokes to feckless ones is adequate and passable. I chuckled and even laughed out loud quite a bit and yet I was still feeling unsatisfied. That's when I put my finger on it. This film was not made to entertain or engage. It was made merely to amuse. It's all surface, locale, music, gags; everything to keep a child distracted, but not stimulated. That's not how the show operates. It tells such captivating stories and delivers such intricate, identifiable morals in twenty-two minutes than an entire 90-minute movie. </div>
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That doesn't make it a bad film, necessarily, but a dispensable one. Its problem wasn't cynical pandering or lackadaisical sensibilities, but under-ambitiousness. It strives to play it so safely and so subserviently to the easiest market that it forgets all of the other cylinders to fire, in order to make it enduring. Instead of <i>Friendship is Magic</i>, this film should've been subtitled,<i> Friendship is a Mantra</i>.</div>
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RATING: Two-and-a-half stars out of four</div>
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Stephen Bankshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10822184343035935418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8874585249961538138.post-42518380417150284062017-08-18T01:36:00.000-04:002017-08-18T01:45:22.000-04:00Detroit (2017)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">In 2009, Kathryn Bigelow and screenwriter Mark Boal masterfully expressed a helpless sense of tension and hazard with <i>The Hurt Locker</i>, resulting in a monumental Oscar win against Bigelow's ex-husband, James Cameron, and the trivial plaudit of it being my favorite war film to date. In 2012, a year after the killing of Osama bin Laden, they tapped into the daunting, innate, post-9/11 fears of America, as well as its bold patriotism, with <i>Zero Dark Thirty</i>, a film that skillfully display that same tension-laced spirit, but with an added feeling of strength and strategy. In 2017, she retains these elements and introduces one more: fury. As shown in this recent cinematic endeavor, fury, at its apex, is not accumulated slowly. Fury, at its height, is an intrinsic emotion; human, valuable, and vital for change, or at least for issues to be brought to the forefront.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">In 2017, she takes us back. To 50 years ago. To <i>Detroit</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The film takes us to the beginning of the 12th Street Riot in Detroit, where an unlicensed club gets raided. Looting, thievery and chaos between the locals and the authorities ensue, which results in a cancelled Dramatics performance, leading to its passionate lead singer Larry Reed and his friend, Fred, staying at the Algiers Motel. After a guest shoots blanks to authorities guarding the motel from the outside, the police round up all black guests and two white prostitutes and are ruthlessly tormented, debased, ridiculed, and tortured by corrupt officer Phillip Krauss. The film centers on the terse "before", tumultuous "during," and the precarious "after" of the riot.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I just elaborated on the narrative for this movie, which is odd because, in execution, it's not particularly a very <b>narrative</b> movie. While there is a thread, a linear blueprint isn't the salient focus. Rather, it feels more like a seamless, stream-of-conscious, documentary-like progression of the events of the riot. I know that that is the nature of film; for events to happen with surprise, as life does. However, this truly feels like a massive plain, specifically laid out for the life of a incendiary incident to germinate each and every day. It is merely heightened for dramatic purposes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">While this film has been receiving relatively solid acclaim (an 83% of Rotten Tomatoes), this film has earned a fair amount of detractors. Aside from Armond White (I'm trying to forget him as much as you all are, so moving on), this film has been criticized for not only omitting crucial details of the riot, but it also has been accused of having an overall hyper-sensitive approach, sentimentally and simplistically depicting events and over-victimizing black people and thus degrading and strangely contorting their struggle. And...I see some, repeat <b>some</b>, of those traits.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Bigelow tends to delineate heroes, whether warped, irrepressibly flawed, antihero-ish heroes, such as <i>Hurt Locker</i>'s William James, or outspoken, belligerently irresistible presences, such as <i>Zero Dark Thirty</i>'s Maya. This film is not fraught with heroes, but it does present some, such as specific military officials, in a way that is oddly angelic. Additionally, certain lines of dialogue, particularly a pleading line by Julie Ann, one of the prostitutes, do strike a note of excessive, ennobled pity and sweeping, simple sanctimony. HOWEVER, as far as it having that tone as a whole, fuck no!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Seriously, *spoilers*, the case involved graphic, appalling torture and mistreatment to an innocent group of people and was swiftly covered up, in the face of the holy spirit of social class and repugnant stances that are nepotistic toward the more privileged majority. Uh...sound familiar? Contrary to A.O. Scott's perspective, I feel that this is not a tale of "black helplessness or passivity," but a diorama to black <b>reality</b>. Even the final note of the film involving Larry singing a church song feels less like inspirational catharsis and more a bleak exhortation to sustain hope in the face of the ugly bludgeoning from the motley injustices they have and will face. Honestly, the summation of this can be seen in a scene at the Algiers Motel prior to the intervention of the police. Carl, the primer responsible for the incident, goes on a spiel to Julie Ann about being black in America, which happens to be the most impassioned, hardline, ferocious, and even most humorous scene of the film.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The characters range a gargantuan gamut of sensibilities and they are delivered with gritty, gut-wrenching performances. Algee Smith is a scintillating revelation as Larry, possessing a beautiful singing voice and lending a pensive, desperate vibe. The way he shows the unfolding of his arc, transforming from having an alacrity for stardom to a self-imposed need to retain and focus on his painful realities, is elegiacally enrapturing. I will, too, be damned if John Boyega has his time in the spotlight cruelly truncated because his performance as Melvin Dismukes, a security guard that tries to assuage the situation, is astonishing. He has the potential to be the next Denzel Washington. After all, he has that same rugged machismo and edgy warmth that commands your attention.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">It also helps that the filmmakers bestowed unto him a stealthily serviceable character. In many ways, he is similar to Forest Whitaker's Butler: a genial man, who is a quasi-inspirational semi-bystander, with two different factors involved: weight and action. He is a security guard that ends up working alongside the police and National Guard, but he is the one force that wants to maintain safety and sanity during this racially incited bedlam, getting involved when it's situationally acceptable and convenient to do so, but also staying silent a lot, as not to exacerbate anybody. However, as the actual case proceeds, his rage, guilt, and helplessness beset him. He's one of the primary protagonists and yet he's never allowed to be fully heroic, which makes for an agonizing portrayal from Boyega.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">However, the thief of the whole movie, of all the performances, is Will Poulter as Officer Phillip Krauss. I will most likely agitate the #OscarsSoWhite crowd by saying this about a movie with an overwhelmingly African-American cast, but I'm putting my Oscar ballot in for him. He fills to the brim with villainy, brutal hatred, and demonic self-interest. His cinematic transmogrification from innocuous teen roles to this despicable character is one of the most piquant and potent revelations since Mo'Nique's Oscar-winning turn in <i>Precious</i>. As well, his lack of physical maturity adds a deeper dimension to the character. His puerile appearance and actions serve as a perfect representation for immature adults that serve in the police or the Army as a subconscious method of sublimating a primal eagerness for power, for control, for, arguably, an insatiable thirst for blood. Additionally, the intro to his character initially exhibits him as the cop that is the closest to being on the side of the rioters. The juxtaposition of that with his subsequent actions leaves it to wonder if it was an off-kilter, deranged way to normalize and empower himself. It's a marvelous acting job.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Throughout the film, I was struggling whether which film was better: this or <i>The Hurt Locker</i>. I say that, because of an askew moment here and there and the fact that the first five minutes or so left me feeling rather cold, <i>The Hurt Locker</i> beats it by a overwhelmingly scant margin. Either way, the political contexts for both are staggering. <i>Hurt Locker</i> gained mainstream attention after the end of the Bush administration, which could give life to the argument that it's practically a morbidly droll allegory for the frivolousness of the Iraq War, with its lead almost reveling in his own slipshod, potentially destructive predilections. However, this film took me to a sundry of places. This is the most brutal, harrowing, pertinacious, frustrating, impetuous, apoplectic, loudest, tragic, angriest, and most uncomfortable film of 2017. It is also the best film of 2017 so far, a film utterly germane with current times. Every sound can be replicated by the disillusioned, aching voices of today. Without implementing or infusing any feminist iconography or dialogue into her films, she has become the most feminist director around right now, with more balls than many of her male compadres.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Given our current President's distasteful, egregious rhetoric, maybe we still are in 1967. But hey, we got to make sure we take both sides into account, right? Them damn alt-lefters!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">RATING: Four out of four stars!</span></div>
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Stephen Bankshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10822184343035935418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8874585249961538138.post-26790895239530351522017-07-31T02:38:00.002-04:002017-07-31T02:38:23.515-04:00Dunkirk (2017)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Sometimes, a specific style can be just as much burdensome as it can be awesome, particularly if used ad nauseum. It seems that the unanimous example for this is the cinematic compendium of Christopher Nolan. Keep in mind, I actually have nothing against the repetition of his own formula. He is one of the boldest, most captivating, talented, and orgasmically intelligent men in the business and I do concede that, despite people's issues with him, this remains the ultimate consensus. However, when he released <i>Inception</i>, my favorite Nolan film to date, in 2010, it was both the best and worst occurrence for him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Yes, Nolan has made visionary strokes of cinema. Yes, he has pushed the boundaries of how one can tell a story. Yes, his ideas are meticulous, enlightening, and enrapturing to the point of mild convolution. None of this was new. However, this was the first time he integrate all of these traits and turned it into an unexpectedly commercial, accessible blockbuster. Yes, even more so than <i>Dark Knight</i>. However, while it was a cultural juggernaut, it did lead to more excoriating dissection of his subsequent films. The final entry of his <i>Batman</i> trilogy, while critically praised, was also panned for not having a cohesive, solid story. <i>Interstellar</i>, while critically praised, was also ridiculed for being a third-rate <i>Inception</i> in space, meaning that indeed, critical praise means nothing to the discerning Internet squadron. Oh, the venom I've encountered!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">So after being away from film for three years, he decided to try the most daring thing he could possibly attempt: a film under two hours long with a story not originated by Nolan, but moreso through true events, executed with a relatively normal tone and with a cast that includes a former boy band member. In relation to his other works, Christopher Nolan's <i>Dunkirk</i> certainly does go in a different...direction! *rimshot*</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">The film takes place during WWII in 1940. Thousands of Allied soldiers are stranded in Dunkirk after the invasion of France. They await deliverance and freedom from Dunkirk. With the assistance and support of the Navy and Air Force, a valiant plot is devised to evacuate thousands of British and French soldiers. The film follows all involved, whether tracking men hoping to heroes or those praying to be survivors.</span><br />
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While it is Nolan's most straightforward story, he, of course, can't make it too simplistic. One element worth noting is that it is told through three varied perspectives: of land, of air, and of sea. Honestly, when I initially heard of this approach, I thought they were going to tell it through each perspective individually and tell the story in a way that would be something akin to <i>Pulp Fiction</i> crossed with, like, <i>Saving Private Ryan</i>. But no, it is all concurrently, thus providing a more linear structure.</div>
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I must be honest that, while it assuredly makes sense in the context, I was sort of intrigued by the concept of telling each individually and then, maybe tying it all together near the end. Because Nolan goes with, well, the normal way, it does become a little less riveting, if one were hoping for something more lyrical and acutely disjointed. However, where the genius lies is his pitch-perfect timing and conglomeration of the three perspectives. At a piecemeal pace, sea becomes the sworn antagonist of land and water, representing capriciousness and the contingent aftermath of defeat. Land seems to symbolize security and air symbolizing freedom, but sea manages to threaten the nature of both of them. It's the ironic, hapless center of it all, even moreso than any other force.</div>
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That sense of dread and uncertainty lingers coldly and mercilessly throughout the film. Nolan is a sage when it comes to the usage of sound. He uses his dialogue sparingly and meagerly, which begets moments of silence, particularly in the first few minutes, that create a blunt, unwavering atmosphere of ambiguity. The mood of the film is personified through Hans Zimmer's august, crazily ambitious score. Zimmer shrewdly inserts dynamics and tempos in a way that feels as if he, <i>himself</i>, is experiencing the moment. The sound design perfectly captures all the nuances of the situation. When a bombing is coming closer, it begins muffled and increases in power. When fellow soldiers try to transport an injured soldier to safety, it almost begins routinely triumphant, but proceeds to grow more frantic, chaotic, and formidable, much like the situation at hand.</div>
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The music is probably the most expressive, vibrant character of the film, as is the cinematography. When the camera focuses on an actor, it is just that: focused. It is pointed and searingly contemplative, as if it wants penetrate through the characters' souls and psyches. Consider a scene after a group of soldiers recuperate after an air raid. Gibson, played by Aneurin Barnard, stays outside the ship and the camera fixates on his plaintive, hauntingly foretelling, afflicted eyes, as he almost predicts the ship being torpedoed before it gets torpedoed. Speaking of which, the grandiose cinematography is also apt at displaying whopping battle scenes and painful imagery, such as a wave of ducking soldiers during an air raid.</div>
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Because the technical aspects do such a tremendous job delivering raw emotions, the characters surprisingly enough aren't as heavily emphasized. However, they all are fortified by interminably capable and amicably convincing actors. Yes, even Harry Styles. His role, again, isn't heavily punctuated, but it does make his, and every other actor's role, more human. However, his abilities do come into the spotlight in a moment where his character is prodded to be all parts desperate, vulnerable, and paranoid. Other standouts include Kenneth Branaugh (duh), Jack Lowden as Collins, the determined, resolute pilot, and Cillian Murphy, who immerses himself as a soldier unbearably beset by the mayhem at hand.</div>
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However, as much as I admire the film, I would call it masterful, not immaculate. Given how he does, admittedly, have to surrender, or moreso keep in check, his propensities for his unbridled, complex story structures, it often does feel like a punctiliously detailed account of the Dunkirk evacuation; a historical guide, if you will. Because of this, the characters don't always feel specific. At times, they feel more like figures that happen to take a part in this salient historical event, which makes the handling of them feel slightly aloof at certain points. Also, I felt that, with all the film's grave, morbid discussions and demonstrations of survival, the ending was too easily intrepid and sentimentally positive, minus a gripping final shot. I understand it was, all in all, a positive turnout, but I felt that the grittiness and gravitas of those earlier moments was somewhat stunted and abandoned for the expected, bold, God-bless-our-heroes ending. Maybe Nolan was trying for a Spielberg moment or something. Given the ending to <i>Private Ryan</i>, you might not want to go too heavy-handed, Nolan.</div>
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Overall, <i>Dunkirk</i> is a brazen, magniloquent reminder of Nolan's technical, emotional, and intellectual prowesses. It may be his most accessible and most simple film to date, but Nolan at his most middling impressiveness is still better than most directors doing their damndest. And who knew that 2017, of all years, would be the year where I can finally relent in calling myself a Harry Styles fan. I don't whether this is a fluke or a sign of greater things to ensue, but the ante has been upped. The remaining members have to really up their game, in order to compete with you.</div>
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Who am I kidding? They won't.</div>
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RATING: Three-and-a-half stars out of four</div>
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Stephen Bankshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10822184343035935418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8874585249961538138.post-74836168823143148652017-04-25T22:51:00.001-04:002017-04-25T22:53:34.920-04:00The Fate of the Furious (2017)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">You know, it seems as if life is formulated to plague and beleaguer us with regrets. One of mine is that I never got around to reviewing <i>Fast & Furious 6</i> after I saw it in theaters in Philadelphia. In fact, I never tackled any of the <i>Fast & Furious</i> films. Given how this brand of "dick flick" are heralded as very polarizing and ripe with various perspectives, I'd rather not obfuscate or conceal mine. In summation, I admire them all for what they are and even for what they are not. But back to the sixth installment, I will share that the viewing experience was one of the most enthralling in my life. The whole audience was transfixed and invigorated on a level unseen by me at the time, hooting and cheering the entire duration of the film.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The salient reason I regret not reviewing <i>Fast & Furious 6</i> is that I can't provide enough substantial context to justify and elucidate my following statement: Goddamn it! Goddamn you, <i>Fast & Furious</i> movies. Goddamn your tricky method of eradicating solid conclusions. Goddamn your brilliantly hypnotic promotion that never ceases to make me instantaneously surrender all currency I possess. And especially, goddamn your penchant for remaining a propulsive, addictive, entertaining franchise. I shall doubt thee nevermore.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The story, as if it matters, begins with Dominic Toretto (Vin Diesel) enjoying his honeymoon with his wife Letty (Michelle Rodriguez). However, his world is turned upside down when a secretive, ambiguous woman named Cipher (Charlize Theron, rocking a very dubious, bewildering, and sort of uncomfortable hairstyle) convinces Dom to assist her in her objective to steal both an EMF and nuclear football, all the while going against him team. When he accepts, it soon becomes Dom vs. the Furious. Or is it?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I know it's early on, but allow me to revise a prior statement, which was "the story, as if it matters..." It actually matters ever so slightly. Don't get me wrong. The film is laced with its trademark implausibilities, plot contrivances, and especially its strained, baffling lectures on morality and family. However, in the prior installments, the story was on a very rudimentary, innocuous, 13-year-old-compiling level, laying out a very lucid, step-by-step, map for the plot. Here, there's a little bit more going on. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It actually presents their most multifaceted, intriguing storyline in the franchise. The basic set-up of betrayal and enigma heightens the stakes and the solemnity. When Dom is ensconced in Cipher, Deckerd Shaw (Jason Statham, the most recent villian in the series) is brought in to assist them. While it's not particularly innovative, the route it goes is stocked with more narrative flesh and complexities than expected. Hell, the mere fact that Letty has to deal with her husband going down a villainous trajectory is itself a wistful quandary, delivered gravely and maturely. The story fully culminates, however, with a twist revealed before the second act that is so elemental to the story that it is my obligation to not reveal it, but believe me when I say that it is the most stunning. jaw-dropping moment in the story.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">When a story's conflict is fortified and elevated, it creates fodder for greater character development, which begets stronger performances from the cast. The entire cast marry their characters with the ample dosage of doughty heroism, assured guile, stalwart gravity, and audacious humor. Honestly, the majority of the cast play their pre-established roles, but to the nth degree, i.e. Tyrese's energetic comic relief, The Rock's unwavering machismo, Jason Statham's measured minatory, etc. Charlize Theron crafts one of the juiciest, most delicious villains I've seen on film in quite a while, portraying Cipher with a straightforward, calculating authority and a wicked, ferocious gleam in her eye. However, it's Vin Diesel who has shown the starkest amelioration, exhibiting a passionate pain, muddled yet desperate acumen, and a thoughtful tenderness undiscovered through his entire career until this point.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But, fuck it. Let's talk about the good stuff. Ostensibly, these action sequences were crafted by a man with a perpetual snarl and a severe teeth clench, while jacked on cocaine because visually, this film is at the apex of the franchise. If others films can pointedly punctuate their climaxes, this whole film is a climax. Highlights include a chase in Berlin that concludes with a wrecking ball demolishing a bevy of police cars, a bustling, tumultuous fight in a maximum security prison, a moment where the Furious crew has to combat a tidal wave of cars in New York, many of which are in auto-drive, and a 20-minute set piece in Russia...on ice. Every action sequence delivers with such magniloquent awe and tantalizing gusto.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">In an era of such ubiquitous technology and continuous <i>Transformers</i> sequels (yeah, I'll be sleeping in that day), this film shows that, yes, fast, snazzy cars, booming explosions, protracted fight scenes, and endless chases can still be surprising and resplendent. It's coincidental that F. Gary Gray directed this, because in 2015, he, similarly with this film, collaborated with Caucasian screenwriters for <i>Straight Outta Compton</i>. With this film, he integrates the grandeur, mettle, and bold, portentous dignity of action films stereotypically marketed to white audiences with the rambunctiousness, color, and inextinguishable energy of films stereotypically marketed to black audiences. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">With this pairing, he helps further the franchise's streak of being racially unified and universal. Given how Gray's cinematic spectrum ranges from <i>Friday</i> and <i>Set It Off</i> to <i>The Italian Job</i>, his touch of this franchise has proven to be the most fitting. This film is a consummate popcorn flick; the most pornographic, non-pornographic film of 2017, and a film that I can proudly ennoble with the honor of being the first <i>Fast & Furious</i> film I've seen that ranks above three stars. Ironic, seeing how it's the first one without the presence of Paul Walker.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">*nervous chuckle* R.I.P. bruh.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">RATING: Three-and-a-half stars out of four</span></span><br />
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Stephen Bankshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10822184343035935418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8874585249961538138.post-33746163058365322112017-04-19T04:30:00.000-04:002017-07-31T02:43:40.848-04:00The Boss Baby (2017)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">While observing the opening credits that reconstruct the Dreamworks logo as a baby mobile, I swiftly assessed that it was in spirit with what they are as a company now: a gimmick, a company that seems desperate to try and encroach on the zeitgeist when it has already found a comfortable spot in it naturally. I don't want to make it seem like I detest them, because I don't. However, Disney and Dreamworks are at the vanguard of the animated film enterprise and the difference between them is night and day. Disney creates with their heart, while Dreamworks creates with their head. Not to say that Disney isn't heady or clever and that Dreamworks is heartless, but their styles are unique unto themselves. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Dreamworks' propensity for terse, one-line concepts, sassy, smart-alecky humor, and an irrepressible, ADHD-like energy allows for good films, but they seem to, for the most part, be merely to amuse. Additionally, they seem to be awfully proud of their few stand-out franchises, because their insatiable need for enduring works lead to additional franchises spawning seemingly inexplicably and prematurely. Hello <i>Turbo, The Croods, Home, Mr. Peabody & Sherman</i>, and their ignominious sullying of my personal favorite religious cartoon of all time. Yeah, Dreamworks has, more often than not, made Netflix a very precarious, frightening place.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">While I don't find Dreamworks virilent or callous by any means, I just never really find much potential with them, at least not enough to believe that they can transcend the patterns set forth by themselves, or at the very least, find a new approach to them. However, there does seem to be hope. <i>Captain Underpants</i> ignites the second-grade nostalgia in me with every promo. As well, <i>Boss Baby</i> gave me hope. Vacillating hope, which ultimately proved to be unfortunately prescient, but hell, I think it's the first time that a mediocre effort actually represents a possible sign of improvement.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The story begins with Timothy, an imaginative 7-year-old, who is perfectly content with his life with just him and his parents. However, an intruder bursts into his life: a baby brother. However, this baby has very specific eccentricities. He dons a business suit perpetually, his innocent, cherubic actions seem to have latent motives possibly linked to sabotage, and, most incredible, he can talk. He is the Boss Baby, sent to Earth to...</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hold on a second. I have to take a breath for this one because this...this is going to hurt.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">*inhales* ...sent to Earth via a company called BabyCorp, where he is the manager, after being deemed unsuitable for the family lifestyle. Many babies are employed via BabyCorp, but lose these business skills and knowledge of BabyCorp as they grow older, specifically if they fail to replenish themselves with a Secret Formula that sustains their intellect. He has been sent to obtain reports on a puppy called The Forever Puppy, a puppy meant to stay young and adorable forever. BabyCorp, as well as The Boss Baby, are against this because according to their data, dogs are overtaking babies, in terms of cuteness and appeal. However, if Boss Baby fails his task, he will be forced to live the family way forever. He recruits Tim to assist him on his mission. In exchange, Tim will be rid of his new brother forever, leaving any hint of The Boss Baby untraced. However, they form a bond, as the Boss Baby questions whether or not family life may be apt for him.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Oh, the fucking agony.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I can say with no exaggeration that this has the contingency to be, quite frankly, the stupidest premise in the history of Dreamworks Animation. It's not disparaging or insultingly bad, but moreso painfully misguided. While simple on paper, it gets lost in execution. Every revelation, every surprise, every detail is at best, warmed over and at worst, ineffably asinine. I was tempted to run down a litany of films this rips off, but I will instead explain it simply. This film makes 2003's <i>Good Boy!</i> plausible by comparison. If you don't remember that film or are unaware, watch it and then proceed to recoil in horror from the validity of my statement. Additionally, it robs elements from, of all films, <i>Baby Geniuses</i>. Yeah, that whole babies acquiring copious amounts of human intellect and then suddenly losing it with age nonsense. <i>Baby Geniuses</i>, one of the worst talking baby products ever, did that first.</span></span></div>
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tried, y'all. I tried telling myself that it was only a movie. Even with the most invasive plot holes, I can usually begrudgingly pass it off as, "Well, they needed to progress the story." However, the plot here is such an incoherent mess that plot holes stick out like a sore thumb. For example, the villain, Francis E. Francis (hardy-har-har), is the mastermind behind the Forever Puppy. He originally worked for BabyCorp, but after discovering that his body could not adequately handle the Secret Formula, he was fired and later invented the Forever Puppy out of spite and vengeance. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Well, wait a minute. What happened to him forgetting about BabyCorp as he aged? Did his henchman have to keep reminding him? He says that he still has the formula, but it was stated that he can't drink it, so how does that work? For that matter, Boss Baby was able to transport Tim to BabyCorp via a very specific pattern whilst sucking on a pacifier. What if Boss Baby, by chance, sucked on it with the same velocity? Would he infiltrate BabyCorp? On top of that, when were dogs and babies ever dominant over another? From my perspective, the amount of cute dog media and cute infant media are basically equivalent as far as adulation goes and the admiration for dogs and babies are, yet again, on the same level. The way I see it, they can both be irritating and they both can leave shit stains on the floor.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">That, in addition to another plot hole I will keep a secret, leads to another foible with the narrative. It's wrongheaded and yet so resolutely thorough. The movie expects us to take this as face value in the context of this world. The final third finishes laboriously with a lachrymose, inordinately syrupy conclusion, which tries to fake us out innumerable times in trying to get us to believe it isn't going to go the predictable route. Spoiler: they do. However, the problem with the movie's objective for us to take it seriously is that not only is there no cohesion, but there's not an ounce of realism. At the very least, it's not grounded.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">With a premise like this, you can go about it one of two ways. One, you can abolish all sense of realism, which can work, or two, you can balance fantasy with veracity, which is more ideal, because it makes it more identifiable. <i>Rugrats</i>, for example, is the quintessential paradigm for the talking baby children's product. Not only does it have the pitch-perfect levels of eccentricity, energy, humor, and heart, it makes sure to emphasize that this is all through the perspective of a child. The babies talk, but they don't <i>really</i> talk, not so that it matters to adults. I never expected <i>Boss Baby</i> to be teeming with realism, but the filmmakers pretend that it is. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It is limpid in this film that babies can talk behind their parents' backs, which is fine on a <i>Toy Story</i> level of storytelling. I can accept that, but goddamn it, two parents conceived a child that sports a tuxedo, a tie, and struts around with a briefcase, and they don't even bat an eye. The parents aren't even eccentric enough for it to be a joke that can propel itself. They're just stupid to be stupid. Hell, in this world, with all of the infants' discussions about the role dogs play in the decline of admiring infants, there are barely even any dogs seen in the film. And again, the final twenty minutes are clumsy with regards to providing any sort of sturdy link between what's supposed to represent reality and what is merely blatant fantasy. And as I reiterate, the aspects that aren't confounding are trite and rote.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">This focus on such a profoundly erroneous story affects the humor, as well. Don't get me wrong. It has quite a few humorous moments permeated relatively evenly. However, the film is so fixated on creating an energetic tone and being so invested in its story and so ebullient in telling it that that same energy isn't properly or consistently allocated to the humor, so what we end up with are customary infancy gags and anemic attempts at gross-out humor. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So, with my ardent, vociferous disapproval for the script (sorry to screenwriter Michael McCullers), is there anything I liked? Well, yeah. Quite a bit, actually. In fact, on my spectrum, my opinions of the script and the animation are the vastest dichotomy I can produce. While the script is basically bullshit, the animation is breathtaking. On solely animation, I'd easily find a spot for this in my Top 5 Dreamworks animated films. Excluding a few stock, uninspired character designs (particularly the villain), the main characters, specifically Tim and Boss Baby, are animated so affably. On top of that, the backgrounds, the settings, the lighting, the color palette, the bold, hallucinatory, vibrant fantasy sequences, are all at the apotheosis of Dreamworks' animation.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">While I am baffled and frustrated by the script, Tim and Boss Baby are developed finely, displaying a very gentle, likable, captivating chemistry, which makes me bemoan the fact that it has found a place in such a thankless script. It also helps that their voice actors do a lot to support their roles. Baldwin, while given gauzy material, does a serviceable job as Boss Baby. As well, I was surprised by newcomer Miles Christopher Bakshi. While I don't believe he will be a breakout star, he emits so much charisma and surprising aplomb that I am definitely in support of him receiving more roles. Even Jimmy Kimmel and Lisa Kudrow are sweet and good-natured as the parents.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And yes, I will give the film some credit. At the very least, while I consider the script a squandered, feckless, bleary, overstuffed, incompetent tragedy of errors, I can, at the very least, concede that there was an ambitious chutzpah behind it. That's where I see it as a bizarre step in the right direction. This film does have a trajectory that it follows. It knows where it's going. The path is broken and unreliable, but the direction is definitive. I understand that it was based on a picture book, but that's no excuse. Trust me when I say that lack of material wasn't the issue with this film. It's underwhelming in certain aspects and overwhelming in others, as well as doing each in such grandiloquent extremes. So final verdict? Average.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">RATING: Two out of four stars</span></span></div>
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Stephen Bankshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10822184343035935418noreply@blogger.com0