You were warned, were you not?
You were warned, and yet you thought,
“What harm could come from silly things
Like some old tape?” The phone then rings,
And on the other end, you hear
A voice that whispers low and clear,
“Seven days.”
You look about
And start perhaps to have some doubt,
Unsure if you were dumb or brave
To laugh at legends, shrug and cave,
And possibly dig your own grave.
__________________
MPAA rating: PG-13
Urban legends are perfect subjects for horror because there’s always that one rumor or curse or half-serious tale of a crazed murderer that happens to be true, if only the protagonist can figure it out before they bite the dust. The Ring fits that mold well while adhering to the style of haunting, suggestive horror that I enjoy most.
Based on the Japanese book and film Ringu, The Ring is about a cursed video tape that kills its viewers seven days later, as illustrated by the familiar but tense opening with two teenage girls at home alone. When one dies, journalist Rachel Keller (Naomi Watts) decides to investigate the mysterious circumstances and watches the cursed tape herself, unwittingly exposing herself and her son Aidan (David Dorfman) to the evil unleashed by the bizarre images onscreen.
As I said, The Ring is “my kind of horror,” in that there’s far more effort on creating dread and atmosphere than on blood and guts, which I suppose is ironic considering it was directed by Gore Verbinski of Pirates of the Caribbean fame. Although it’s taken me this long to actually see it, its mop-headed villain girl (named Samara here, Sadako in the Japanese original) has become rather iconic, and I already knew of the film’s most famous scenes, such as the phone call whisper of “seven days” or the memorable television scene toward the end. (I guess there are several television scenes, but you probably know which one I mean.) Going in with such knowledge perhaps dampened the effectiveness of the scares, but I still appreciated the occasionally misleading tension and the gradually uncovered mystery.
It does fit my preferred style of horror, as did The Others and The Babadook, but there was something lacking in The Ring. Naomi Watts’ performance is fairly strong alongside costars Dorfman and Martin Henderson as her skeptical ex-husband, but there wasn’t as much of an emotional core to the story as there was in the other two films I mentioned. Plus, as the layers of the mystery were peeled back, it became a bit too convoluted, with too many puzzling twists that could only be explained by the argument that “there’s something supernatural afoot.”
The Ring didn’t quite have the dramatic oomph or shocking twist (it does try for both) that would elevate it to join my favorites, but it’s a potent horror flick nonetheless, with several evocative potential meanings for its title. The video tape plot device will immediately date it in years to come, but that isn’t automatically a negative since it doesn’t diminish the scares. I haven’t heard many good things about its two sequels, the most recent being Rings from this past year, so I think I’ll stick with this original for now, or if I’m feeling bold, maybe I’ll try the Japanese original original. One thing’s for sure, though: I definitely won’t be sitting anywhere near the screen!
Best line: (Richard Morgan, Samara’s father, to Rachel) “What is it with reporters? You take one person’s tragedy and force the world to experience it… spread it like sickness.”
It’s tough to be a werewolf.
It quickly does get old.
It’s sore and strange
To feel the change
And watch your bones all rearrange
And you’re more apt to catch the mange,
Although you’re rarely cold.
It’s tough to be a werewolf.
The lupine life is lone.
If you have friends,
It all depends,
But likely they’ll meet grisly ends
And then it’s tough to make amends,
For corpses tend to groan.
So when you hear “Stay off the moors,
Keep to the roads, don’t take detours,”
Pay heed to those who stay indoors,
Or you will see when on all fours,
It’s tough to be a werewolf.
_____________________
MPAA rating: R
After yesterday’s vampires, for my second Halloween-themed review, I watched the cult classic An American Werewolf in London, which is mainly known for winning the very first Academy Award for Best Makeup for Rick Baker’s werewolf effects. I’ll just say up front that this film had all the things I usually try to avoid in horror and movies in general—bloody violence, sex and nudity, profanity—but I will try to put that aside and appraise the film itself.
The set-up is a classic one: two unwise American visitors to the English countryside wander where they shouldn’t and are attacked by a vicious creature. Jack (Griffin Dunne) is killed by the beast, but David (David Naughton, who lost his Dr. Pepper deal after this movie) survives, only to be told by Jack’s ghost that David is now a werewolf. Obviously, no one would believe the decaying apparition of a dead friend, so David ignores him and goes home with a lovely nurse (Jenny Agutter). But wait! He’s changing…he is a werewolf! And now he will prowl London in search of helpless escalator-riding victims.
Okay, maybe that was too dramatic, but to be honest, I expected a little bit more from what is billed as a horror-comedy. True, there’s some humor to Jack and David’s early banter, the wry moon-related soundtrack, and particularly in Jack’s undead suicide advice, but this isn’t quite what I would consider a comedy. It’s like the opposite of Ghostbusters: I consider that a comedy with some horror while this is a horror with some comedic lines, but neither quite fits the horror-comedy label. The horror elements are fairly straightforward (creepy locals, foolish victims, full moon; check, check, check), but director John Landis fills the werewolf attacks with looming terror, especially with first-person views as David chases a man through the London subway.
It was a decent horror film overall, but ultimately it’s really memorable for two things, one good, one bad. The good is that Rick Baker absolutely deserved that Oscar, since David’s transformation, anomalously set to Sam Cooke’s version of “Blue Moon,” still holds up as an impressive feat of makeup effects, one that predated everything computers could do today. It’s interesting to note that wolf men seem to attract makeup awards, since 2010’s The Wolfman also won the Best Makeup Oscar. As for the bad, what was with that ending? Perhaps the abruptness of the final scene was also intended for comedy, but for me, it was a bit too jarring a conclusion, though I’m sure it gets a chuckle from cult fans on their hundredth rewatch. For a true horror comedy, though, I’ll side with the vampires and stick with The Lost Boys. At least the ending doesn’t suck.
Best line: (a boy at the zoo) “A naked American man stole my balloons.”
Sometimes old houses are just empty shells,
Still mourning their past occupier’s farewells,
But sometimes you feel something sinister dwells
In ramshackle relics and haunted hotels.
The dust and mistrust of these dark citadels
We try to ignore, but their menace compels.
Who knows what nightmares and nefarious spells
Can lurk in old homes with their own private hells?
__________________
MPAA rating: PG
Halloween is almost upon us yet again, and since I don’t really celebrate it (except with more candy than usual), I haven’t done much this month in honor of everyone’s favorite scary holiday. However, I think I’ll change that and do what I did last year, four horror reviews in a row leading up to the big day, when I will no doubt contribute to the great November candy shortage of 2017. As with last year (when I reviewed Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein, The House That Dripped Blood, Poltergeist, and The Babadook), each of my picks will fit roughly into a different era of horror and will try to buck my wussy aversion to the genre.
First off is the 1979 television adaptation of Stephen King’s Salem’s Lot, something my VC urged me not to see because she recalls it with such terror (probably like me and that clown scene in Poltergeist). I still did, of course, and found it to be quite the credible frightfest, although in a dated way. There are scenes that I could see causing nightmares, but compared with modern horrors like The Babadook, I don’t expect Salem’s Lot to keep me up at night. Still, as far as vampire flicks go, this one hits all the right beats, and I could see how it has influenced the genre since, particularly the glowing eyes and the antler scene in The Lost Boys.
Salem’s Lot is set in Maine and the main character Ben Mears (David Soul) is a writer, which is so unlike Stephen King’s work that I don’t know where to begin! In all seriousness, though, Salem’s Lot is very King-y, from those trademarks of his I mentioned to the idea of a dark evil lurking in a sleepy small town. In fact, it’s very much like It, with Pennywise being replaced by incoming vampires as the protagonists wise up to what’s going on and set out to stop it.
Directed by Tobe Hooper of Poltergeist and The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, the three-hour miniseries does a fine job at establishing its large cast of suckable characters: the visiting writer who used to live in Salem’s Lot, the girl who falls for him after one date (Bonnie Bedelia), her doctor father (Ed Flanders), the sinister old man who just bought the local mansion of evil (James Mason), the realtor (Fred Willard), his mistress (Julie Cobb), her jealous husband (George Dzundza), the boy who loves scary stuff (Lance Kerwin), the cemetery keeper (Geoffrey Lewis), and quite a few more besides. It was rather fun playing “Spot the Familiar Face” as I watched, such as recognizing the constable as Kenneth McMillan, who played the gross Harkonnen villain in Dune. It was also good to see Ed Flanders from St. Elsewhere, and his co-star Bonnie Bartlett playing his wife, though she was William Daniels’ wife on the show. James Mason is particularly well-cast as Straker, the forboding newcomer to Salem’s Lot, who you just know has a vampire tucked away somewhere, like maybe in that moving box.
As I said, the horror is a bit dated but still effective, pervaded by a nicely creepy atmosphere and punctuated by periodic jump scares. As with horror in general, it also has its fair share of supernatural foolishness, like allowing inside a fanged loved one floating outside your window or waiting till late afternoon to storm a vampire’s fortress. I thought too that there would be more to Mears’ backstory and his distrust of the Marston house, but that’s never elucidated. There were also a few lapses in the storytelling, or at least questions. Some excellent early tension is wrung from the cheating realtor’s subplot, but when one character is killed, the other two just drop out of the story entirely. The fates of several other characters are left vague as well, as are the circumstances behind the love story’s “resolution.” I’m sure these details are probably better explained in the book, but the miniseries could have clarified them better. I also don’t think it should have started with a flash-forward because that immediately let me know which characters would survive.
Even so, Salem’s Lot is a compelling King story that may not have a lot of story surprises but still spooks with its vampire mythos and general creepiness. The appearance of the main vampire is particularly menacing, clearly inspired by Nosferatu, though I understand that’s a departure from King’s book. I’m by no means an expert on Stephen King adaptations, but Salem’s Lot seemed to do him justice.
Best line: (Straker) “You’ll enjoy Mr. Barlow. And he’ll enjoy you.”
They said no bridge could cross the divide,
Too far and different were each side,
And yet two chose
To still propose
A bridge to span the gap so wide.
They slowly worked with cautious hope
To lay foundations, tighten rope,
And earn the trust
That is a must
For silencing the misanthrope.
Naysayers had their efforts spurned,
Yet look what trust can build when earned!
Then fast as fire,
The doubters’ ire
Had lit the bridge and down it burned.
_____________________
MPAA rating: PG-13
Wow! If Rise of the Planet of the Apes was a prime reboot, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes is an exemplary sequel. It continues the storyline of its predecessor while establishing a new yet complementary scenario with far more depth than the simple “rise of the apes” concept could have had in the hands of lesser writers.
Set ten years after Rise, Dawn sees Caesar (Andy Serkis) and his band of intelligent esc-ape-ees having built their own mini-civilization, hidden in a dense redwood forest, while humanity has been decimated by the same virus that gave the apes their heightened intelligence. When a band of immune human survivors stumbles upon the apes, tensions immediately flare, especially because the humans’ energy needs won’t allow them the logical course of keeping their distance. Yet the human leader Malcolm (Jason Clarke) actually tries to reach out to Caesar and his apes and work toward mutual trust, something of which apes and humans alike disapprove, especially Caesar’s second-in-command Koba (Toby Kebbell).
The roles of both Caesar and Malcolm are very much representative of Rudyard Kipling’s poem “If—” as they try to “keep [their] head when all about [them] are losing theirs and blaming it on [them].” They both want what’s best for their respective groups, and they know that that includes peace between them. We as level-headed viewers recognize the wisdom of their actions, and yet so many of their subordinates carry far too much baggage and resentment to trust that wisdom. Whether it be humans who automatically associate the word “ape” with the virus epidemic or surly Koba, who still hates humans for using him as a research guinea pig, they question their leader’s judgment and even his loyalties without questioning if he might be right. It’s frustrating and yet all too believable, considering humanity’s known weakness and intolerance.
Another major theme is that the apes and humans are not as different as either side would think. That weakness and intolerance are common to both, as is the tendency to view such opponents as a group rather than individuals who don’t necessarily all believe the same thing. The act of a rogue can quickly spiral into “us versus them” violence that makes such perceptions harder to undo. What’s astounding about Dawn is how it gets these complex messages across with minimal dialogue, utilizing the apes’ broken English and hand motions to their fullest. The motion-capture CGI is also even more impressive than in Rise, wowing with the action battle scenes, as well as benefiting the story in less flashy ways, like the clearly recognizable emotions that play out on Caesar’s face, courtesy of the talented Andy Serkis.
In addition to the Oscar-nominated visuals, all the performances are outstanding, especially Clarke, Serkis, Keri Russell as Malcolm’s wife, and Gary Oldman as Malcolm’s less trusting counterpart. James Franco is sadly departed from the story, but there are affecting reminders of him and Caesar’s past. Caesar’s ape friends who do carry over from Rise don’t stand out that much, making me glad I still remembered them from having just seen the first film, but Koba’s role is greatly expanded as an antagonist, with the ending directly mirroring one of his actions in Rise. Also, as a fan of tracking shots, I must point out a scene I loved in which the camera follows Malcolm as he stumbles through a maze of hallways trying to avoid invading apes. It made me think that a tracking shot could be a running element for the series, since Rise had the scene with young Caesar swinging throughout Will’s house.
Dawn is a sober movie that views the ape versus human struggle with far more nuance and regret than any earlier installment, precisely because the film shows it didn’t have to turn out the way it did. An action blockbuster is expected to have awesome visuals, but it’s a rare and pleasant surprise when there’s this much depth too. With so much tension between various groups nowadays, the film remains as timely as ever, a potent reminder to not let the worst parts of our nature carry us to destruction.
Best line: (Caesar) “I always think… ape better than human. I see now… how much like them we are.”
Dystopias and futures grim
Are but a writer’s dismal whim.
No wasteland stark
Or desert dark
Or dictatorial monarch,
No virus spread
Or walking dead
Or culture built upon bloodshed,
No overthrow
Of status quo
Could happen to the world we know.
‘Twill be too late when mankind learns
To heed dystopians’ concerns.
_____________________
MPAA rating: PG-13
I’ve been skipping the recent Planet of the Apes reboot series because I considered them just another example of Hollywood’s idea-starved habit of milking past franchises. Although I was surprised at how positive the critical reactions were, that’s why it took me so long to finally explore this reboot, and now that I’ve seen it, I’m surprised again by how good it really is. Rise of the Planet of the Apes is a sterling example of a reboot done right, taking the basic ingredients of a prior film and building on them in new and unexpected ways.
Of all the earlier Planet of the Apes installments, this film most resembles the fourth one, Conquest of the Planet of the Apes, which happens to be where the original film series took a nosedive on quality and believability, even more so than in the second film. Whereas the Caesar in Conquest (played by Roddy McDowall) was the product of a time leap from the ape future seen in the original Planet of the Apes, the Caesar in Rise (played by Andy Serkis via ever-improving motion capture) is born from a captured chimpanzee being used for experimental drug tests. When an incident causes his mother and the other test cases to be killed, baby Caesar is taken in by Will Rodman (James Franco), the head of the project, and his father (John Lithgow), whose Alzheimer’s disease spurs Will to keep working on his cure. Although raised by humans, the unusually intelligent Caesar eventually learns of his origin and the fate of others of his kind and sparks a simian revolt.
As the first in the series to use CGI for an authentic appearance for the apes, Rise of the Planet of the Apes is a huge improvement over the originals on a visual level alone. The apes look astoundingly real, even if there’s still that slight CGI-ness that lets me tell they’re not, and the motion capture allows for entirely credible movements, as well as emotive facial expressions in the case of Caesar. Franco and Lithgow also deliver solid human support that adds heart to a tale of science run amok, while Daniel Oyelowo plays the typical corporate corner-cutter who’s the “real” villain. The film’s “rise” to its action climax is not only a great thrill but one that also shows early on Caesar’s moral reluctance to take any human lives.
Although Rise is clearly rewriting the history of the original Planet of the Apes series, there are plenty of callbacks to please those like my VC who are wary of any change to a cherished franchise. Iconic lines are recycled, like “It’s a madhouse” and “Take your stinking paw off me, you d*mn dirty ape.” Easter eggs are dropped, like Caesar’s mother being nicknamed Bright Eyes, as Charlton Heston’s character was in the first film, and Heston himself even has a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it cameo. There’s an added reason to the references too, particularly in how Caesar is imprisoned in a cruel ape cagehouse, implicitly suggesting that, as bad as Heston was treated, the apes were treated that way first.
I also liked the subtlety of how Caesar’s arc is analogous to Moses in the Bible. Like Moses, Caesar was rescued when the rest of his “people” were killed; he was raised by the “enslavers” until an act of violent rebellion gets him in trouble; and after a time of exile, he leads his “people” to freedom. It’s a nice subtext that allows the story to be enjoyed as both a solid sci-fi movie and a semi-allegorical narrative.
Rise of the Planet of the Apes does so much right that it makes me wonder why it’s so hard for other reboots to succeed. Certainly, it has respect for the source material but also the nerve to tell its own story, including a parting hint as to how mankind’s decline will play out. It’s a very promising start for a series that, from what I understand, will only get better.
Best line: (Jacobs, Will’s boss) “I swear, you know everything about the human brain except the way it works.”
Is life not a game
Where there’s no one to blame
If the rules seem unfair
And the ends are the same?
You’re tempted to quit,
Raise your hands in forfeit,
For the game doesn’t care
Where the losers will sit.
But wait! None will mind
The misfits of mankind,
For the arrogant player
Is conveniently blind.
Who heeds the has-been
When his triumphs begin?
Those who haven’t a prayer
In the game can still win.
_____________________
MPAA rating: PG-13
Although I’ve come to really enjoy anime movies over the last several years, I’d never seen an anime film in the theater. Thus, it was a special treat to see No Game No Life: Zero on the big screen, especially with it being such a visually spectacular film. After being impressed by the trailers for months before its July opening in Japan, I thought for sure I’d have to wait perhaps a year before I’d get to see an American release, so I’m grateful to Sentai Filmworks and Fathom Events for distributing the English dub so quickly.
I wouldn’t doubt that non-anime fans have no idea what No Game No Life is. It’s a series of Japanese light novels, but most in the West would know it from the anime adaptation that is surprisingly popular for having only a single twelve-episode season. It centers on the gaming prowess of eighteen-year-old Sora and his eleven-year-old stepsister Shiro, two genius-level shut-ins who are transported by the god of games Tet to a fantasy world where all conflicts are decided by wagering on games of any kind. Humanity (known as Imanity in this world) is the lowest and least powerful of all the fantasy races, so Sora and Shiro take it upon themselves to lift up the humans and conquer the world through the likes of chess, word chain, and first-person shooters. Just as WarGames fans say “Shall we play a game?”, No Game No Life fans say “Aschente,” the mutual pledge before starting a game.
The show itself is played mainly for laughs and to marvel at the Sherlock-level strategy and foresight the siblings command even when at a disadvantage, but it boasts a broader fantasy appeal too, especially with unseen backstory about a horrific war that only ended when Tet became god and made the world game-centric. The characters and situations are quite entertaining for the most part, though No Game No Life isn’t among my favorite series for one simple reason: fan service. There’s plenty of sexual harassment, near-nudity, and risqué humor, mainly from Sora, and while much of it is funny, a lot is just uncomfortable and annoying. Plus, I’m not usually a fan of the kind of anime with silly faces and exaggerated reactions (I know that’s the majority of anime), which is why I lean more toward dramatic series or movies, which are usually easier to take seriously.
That’s why I was so eager to see No Game No Life: Zero, a film centering on an extended flashback of the pre-Tet war, a subject which lends itself to much more drama and emotion, and indeed the film is a complete contrast from the humorous tone of the series. (By the way, the Zero in the title seems to be an example of the naming convention for works that are connected yet somehow separate from an established series [e.g. Fate/Zero, Steins;Gate 0, etc.].) No Game No Life is notable, and sometimes disliked, for its hypersaturated colors, boasting more bright hues than a Crayola factory, and while the movie retains the same style, it limits its palette more to complement the darker storyline. Instead of the shiny fantasy land into which Sora and Shiro are literally dropped, this war-torn world 6000 years earlier is dominated by reddened skies and skin-burning ash, leaving no doubt as to humanity’s desperation, caught in the crossfire between the more powerful magical races. Just look at the contrast between the worlds below, the first from the show, the second from the film.
Although there’s still a lot left unseen, the film wonderfully expands our knowledge of the war, showing us why the modern-day races still hate each other. Jibril, an immortal angel-like creature called a Flugel, was one of the best characters on the show, conceited and charming at the same time, but her appearance in the film fits the description of an “angel of death,” proving that those memories of slaughter she fondly reminisces about in the show were not exaggerated. The film also intentionally echoes the series with its “new” character designs. Riku, the leader of the remaining humans, looks a lot like Sora, just as Shuvi, an Ex Machina android intent on learning the value of the human heart, looks much like Shiro. (They’re even voiced by the same voice actors in the excellent English dub that I saw.) The main design difference may be that their hair colors are reversed, but these new characters have their own personalities and griefs that set them apart from their later incarnations, and instead of a brother and sister relationship, theirs is destined for love. I will say it takes a certain amount of disconnect from the series to accept a romance between two characters who look like the siblings we know, but the film spends a good amount of time developing their relationship, even if it starts on a very awkward note.
The trailers mainly focused on the romance angle and an epic fight between Shuvi and Jibril, but I was glad to see that the movie does explain the war’s formerly vague resolution. Instead of the explicit games of the series, the game concept, along with humanity’s struggle, becomes more of a running theme as the characters engage in a literal game of “Global Thermonuclear War.” Some have complained about the pacing of the movie’s final third, but that’s where I thought it truly found its stride and consistently impressed. I loved the way victory is snatched from apparent defeat, utilizing the fact that the Ex Machina are a lot like the Borg from Star Trek, and the sad circumstances became sublimely bittersweet by the end. It spoke to how the most important people in history often remain unsung heroes, their names sometimes only remembered by God.
No Game No Life: Zero was a pleasure to watch in the theater, especially because it elevated the series it was based on, focusing on the fantasy with just a taste of the original’s humor and chucking the unnecessary fan service. (There’s still some stylized nudity, but it’s more forgivable here.) The animation is particularly stunning, especially during that epic battle I mentioned, and the score beautifully enhanced the emotions of each scene, with the lovely ending theme “There Is a Reason” earning entrance into my End Credits Song Hall of Fame. By the end, as the film tied itself directly into where the series left off, I even found myself feeling surprisingly nostalgic and fond for a show I thought I only moderately liked. Many think this film is a prelude for a potential second season, and the movie will certainly strengthen that hope. No Game No Life may be a series I wouldn’t quite recommend to everyone, but, with the right background information, this movie is. (By the way, I’ve included the first teaser trailer down below to give a taste of the awesome animation and music.)
Best line: (Riku) “Yes, humans are fools, but it takes a great fool to not let that foolishness get themselves killed.”
Can you feel the eyes upon you,
Every move within their sight?
Where they are you cannot know
Regardless if it’s day or night.
Vainly, you attempt to flee
Or foolishly prepare to fight.
It awaits the perfect moment,
Preying on your fear’s last thread.
Though some fail to see the danger,
Blood is ready to be shed.
Once you know you’re being hunted,
You’re already good as dead.
_________________
MPAA rating: R (for much violence and language)
Predator is about a bunch of elite commandos, led by the Terminator himself, fighting an alien hunter in the Central American jungle. And I thought Sylvester Stallone arm-wrestling was macho! This Arnold Schwarzenegger vehicle supposedly stands alongside the Alien movies as a great sci-fi actioner (thanks in part to the whole Alien vs. Predator spinoff), and while it definitely nails the action part, it’s certainly not on the level of the first two Alien films.
This is a prime example of a film in which the plot serves the action rather than the other way around. The storyline is as thin as it gets, with Schwarzenegger’s “Dutch” Schaefer sent on a rescue mission with his team of professional soldiers (Bill Duke, Jesse Ventura, future writer/director Shane Black, who will be helming another sequel due out next year), joined by Carl Weathers as former friend and CIA agent George Dillon. After an assault on the local guerrillas reveals they were misled as to their true mission, the soldiers head back, only to be picked off by an invisible alien poacher. As I said, the plot serves the action, and so do the simple but enjoyable enough characters, all of whom are oozing testosterone with lines like “I ain’t got time to bleed.” (Spoiler: He finds the time.)
You don’t watch a movie like Predator for the narrative or any complex themes. It’s a turn-your-brain-off-and-watch-the-explosions kind of movie and an entertaining and not too dumb one at that. There’s not much horror to the ugly, cloaked alien himself (who feels a lot like a relative of the Hirogen hunters from Star Trek: Voyager), but he’s an intimidating and well-armed antagonist, especially from how easily he takes down most of the group, though he also seems to have some kind of honor code for worthy prey. My VC felt that the reveal of its face was rather a letdown, but it was followed by a fight and an explosion so I can’t complain too much. A solid sci-fi actioner, Predator is perhaps not what I’d consider “great,” but it’s machismo-fueled entertainment that still excites thirty years later.
Best line: (Dutch, adhering to the Batman school of alien killing) “If it bleeds, we can kill it.”
Some may wish five happinesses
On both traveler and friend:
The hope for wealth from their successes,
And a long life ere the end.
Third, may good health cause increase,
And virtue fortify your soul,
And lastly, may you die in peace,
Having met your every goal.
Though five would fill most purposes,
A sixth and final happiness
I wish to all, but what it is
Is up to each of us to guess.
____________________
MPAA rating: PG
Ingrid Bergman is one movie star who hasn’t been much on my classic film radar, aside from Casablanca and Gaslight (which are great). To remedy that, I decided to check out one of her later roles in the semi-epic The Inn of the Sixth Happiness, in which she plays Gladys Aylward, a real-life missionary to China who rose to fame with her humanitarian efforts during the Sino-Japanese War of the 1930s.
I call it a semi-epic because, though it doesn’t quite boast the sweeping storytelling of Ben-Hur or Doctor Zhivago, there’s enough of it in Aylward’s decades-long mission that the magnitude of her story rises above others of its day. At the beginning, Aylward displays an indomitable passion for China, feeling it is where God has called her for His purposes, and at her own expense and peril, she journeys there to join an already established missionary (Athene Seyler). There in Yang Cheng, they open an inn for travelers, whose hunger for stories they plan to meet with the Bible, but many difficulties stand in the way, from uncooperative leaders to the obvious language barrier. And even when she earns the trust and love of the people, Aylward’s commitment to China also puts her in harm’s way when the Japanese invade in the years leading up to World War II, and she takes it upon herself to lead a hundred orphans to safety.
While The Inn of the Sixth Happiness doesn’t quite make my List, it’s the kind of film that might have if I’d seen it long ago and built it up in my head as a classic. (That is how it works sometimes.) There’s much to love about it, not least of all is Bergman’s performance as Aylward. Even if she looks and sounds nothing like the woman she’s playing (just one of the film’s many historical liberties), she certainly captures her commitment and love for the Chinese people. Like Mother Teresa, she goes to serve as both servant and example rather than force conversion on the people. She doesn’t merely go to China for a couple years to fulfill a duty; instead, she immerses herself in the land and culture, even becoming a Chinese citizen, and dedicates her entire life to her mission of love and social reform. It is this kind of Christian commitment that is most persuasive, and when she does find success and respect in the eyes of both the Chinese and her fellow missionaries, it’s immensely satisfying and touching. I’ve even heard reports that playing such a godly woman led Ingrid Bergman to become a Christian.
Strong supporting roles are filled by Curt Jurgens as a half-Chinese colonel and love interest and Robert Donat (his last film role before his death) as the local mandarin of Yang Cheng. Of course, neither actor is Chinese, leading to retroactive criticisms of the film for whitewashing, but they both are excellent still, especially Donat, and they’re not at all insulting like Mickey Rooney’s caricature in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Plus, the vast majority of the cast are still played by Chinese actors, including many children from a Chinese community in Liverpool. Especially affecting is the commitment of Aylward’s two Chinese helpers who assist her along the way, as well as an emotional scene between Aylward and one of her adopted Chinese daughters.
It’s not without its flaws, from an overlong runtime to some loose ends that are left unresolved by the end. Plus, it’s up to each viewer how much the historical changes bother you; Aylward herself wasn’t a fan of the film’s depiction of her or Curt Jurgens’ character. Yet the mountainous setting adds a good deal of authenticity to Aylward’s travails, aided by terrific cinematography, and even if director Mark Robson was the only member of the production to earn an Oscar nomination, the quality of the performances and overall film seem deserving of far more. The Inn of the Sixth Happiness isn’t strongly evangelical, still being a Hollywood production, but the faith of its subject is unmistakable and inspiring.
Best line: (Aylward) “You have to interfere with what you feel is wrong, if you hope to make it right.”
In desperate times, the desperate strive
To conquer odds and just survive,
A second, minute, hour away
To die or live another day.
Is this success, to scrape on through,
To call retreat as foes pursue?
Is it defeat to slip away
To live and fight another day?
_____________________
MPAA rating: PG-13
Dunkirk was one of my most anticipated movies this year, and Christopher Nolan delivered. And what he delivered is a war movie unlike any other, one that uses his penchant for time manipulation in order to provide a comprehensive and visceral glance at the Dunkirk evacuation, which until now wasn’t nearly as known as it should have been.
Minimally explained by a couple words on the screen, the film takes place in three different time frames: a week for the soldiers stranded on Dunkirk’s beaches as they desperately seek rescue, a day for a small civilian vessel on its way across the English Channel to help, and an hour for a lone RAF pilot (Tom Hardy) as he defends evacuees from German bombers. The movie bounces around between time frames so frequently that it’s easy to confuse the chronology of events that play out faster in one timeline than another, but it also becomes a sort of epic puzzle as the three stories converge toward the end.
Dunkirk is far from a head trip, though; it’s a non-stop adrenaline rush. From the first moments where silence is shattered by sudden gunfire, the nerves are constantly put on edge. I wouldn’t doubt that Dunkirk is a shoo-in for technical Oscars, like Sound Editing: augmented by Hans Zimmer’s escalating score, the gunshots and the blaring drone of incoming bombers are deafening (my theater had excellent speakers), lending the audience a taste of the shell shock felt by the soldiers of Dunkirk.
It’s amazing how relentless the suspense is across all three stories. Hardy’s midair dogfights are thrillingly authentic, especially with the knowledge that real period planes were used rather than CGI re-creations, while Mark Rylance embodies civilian determination as the skipper of the small boat Moonstone, offering brave wisdom while dealing with a panicky survivor (Cillian Murphy). The most unnerving scenes go to the British young men on Dunkirk’s stark, wind-swept beaches, particularly Fionn Whitehead as our touchstone in that time frame. We barely get to know any of the soldiers, which also include Aneurin Barnard and a quite solid Harry Styles, but their desperation is palpable as they search for any boat in the storm. One scene of a torpedo attack is a whirl of watery chaos; not since Titanic has a ship sinking been so riveting.
On technical merit, the film is practically flawless, but there were a few things that held it back from total perfection, for me at least. Aside from the potential confusion of the three time frames, I suppose I prefer war movies to have a bit more character development. I never really learned any of the characters’ names or backgrounds, and the beach-bound soldiers have precious little to say to each other, although I’m sure it was likely intentional to focus more on their immediate actions rather than backstory and dialogue. A few moments also left me confused as to people’s reasoning, like when soldiers on an endangered boat insist that someone should get off or when one character seems to choose capture by the enemy over joining the evacuation. One tiny bit of improved editing might also have better shown that a waterlogged boat was actually at sea rather than just surrounded by the incoming tide. Plus, Nolan’s focus for the film was clearly the desperation of everyone involved, and while heroism has its triumphant moments, the desperation tends to overwhelm it and leave little room for any religious aspect of the story, like the day of prayer in Britain beforehand or the miraculous storm that kept the German army at bay.
I quite agree with the consensus that Dunkirk is one of the great war movies of all time, and its beach setting makes comparisons to Spielberg’s Saving Private Ryan inevitable. While I think Saving Private Ryan is a better film overall, I will say that I appreciated Dunkirk’s comparative restraint. There are no severed limbs or sprays of blood, and the intensity of the war scenes is not diminished one bit. Yet perhaps that’s due to a difference in directorial intention. I loved Nolan’s explanation he gave in an interview, stating that Saving Private Ryan showed the horror of war with scenes to make you want to turn away, while Nolan wanted to make a film of suspense that “you can’t take your eyes off.” In that, he succeeded, and even if it’s not quite perfect, even if I still consider Inception Nolan’s best work, Dunkirk is a brilliantly executed, well-acted, edge-of-your-seat piece of immersive history.
Best line: (Rylance’s Mr. Dawson) “He’s shell-shocked, George. He’s not himself. He might never be himself again.”
Here is my contribution to MovieRob’s September Genre Grandeur of Remade Movies. I reviewed both the classic French thriller The Wages of Fear with its American counterpart Sorcerer, comparing and contrasting them as one of my Version Variations.
For this month’s first review for Genre Grandeur – Re-Made Movies, here’s a review of The Wages of Fear (1953) / Sorcerer (1977)) by SG of Rhyme and Reason
