‘Tis no simple means
By which women are wooed.
‘Tis not for the boorish
Or foolishly rude.
The poets have proffered
And songsters suggest
What romantic remarks
Are the sweetest and best.
And men have spent centuries
On making sense
Of how to atone
After giving offense.
The language of love
Is a varied pastime,
And most would agree
‘Tis a mount worth the climb.
Fear not if you stumble
In stoking the flame.
The right words to women
Are rarely the same.
__________________
MPAA rating: PG
Roxanne, which my VC has been urging me to review for some time, features Steve Martin at his most charming. Martin himself adapted the 1897 play Cyrano de Bergerac (which interestingly provided the English language with the word “panache”) into this modern comedic retelling. The major events of the famous love triangle are faithfully translated from 17th century France to picturesque Nelson, Washington in the 1980s. Martin is C.D. Bales, the effortlessly charismatic fire chief who knows how to castigate those who insult his unusually long nose, while Daryl Hannah is his crush Roxanne, who is sadly enamored of the handsome numbskull Chris (Rick Rossovich).
To me, Roxanne is a film that excels in individual moments much more than the big picture. There are some brilliant comedic scenes, such as C.D.’s listing off twenty witty ways to insult his nose or the hilarious balcony scene (“I was afraid of worms, Roxanne! Worms!”), and I always get a good chuckle out of C.D.’s sexual teasing of a gaggle of gullible old ladies.
Yet, even with the verbal cleverness and the slapstick of C.D.’s bumbling fire crew, the romantic plot has never seemed particularly memorable to me. Martin certainly sells his eloquent passion for Roxanne, and Daryl Hannah is a beautiful love interest (a good normal role as opposed to her acting strange in Splash and Legal Eagles). Their love is worth rooting for, and I was reasonably satisfied by the end. Yet the original play concludes tragically, and Martin’s invented happy ending does feel rather easy and tacked on, earning just a smile rather than the grinning sigh that the best rom coms achieve. It may not make it one of my favorites, but Roxanne has enough “panache” to be a worthwhile charmer.
Best line: (C.D., telling some old ladies about supposed aliens in town) “They wanted to ask me about older women.”
(Nina) “Why?”
(C.D.) “Because they wanted to have sex with them.”
(Sophie) “Where?”
(C.D.) “Here! Right here in Nelson. They wanted to start a colony of supermen who would have sex with older women because they said, and I quote, ‘they really know what they’re doing.’”
(Lydia) “We do!”
(Sophie) “It’s been so long!”
(Dottie) “Oh, girls, girls! Do you actually believe that there are creatures from outer space who want to have sex with older women? [pause] Let’s go and check it out!”
“Life as we know it” – a strange thing to say,
As if we all share every daily cliché,
As if you and I, in our habits and cares,
The views she retains and the burdens he bears,
All somehow add up to the same.
Life outside yours cannot fully be known;
Though we walk together, our paths are our own.
When other lives deviate, some may presume
Their paths are less worthy where tragedies loom,
And some may regard it a shame.
Life can have weakness without being weak.
Life can have sorrow without being bleak.
Support can be found where we least would suspect,
In plans that are clear only in retrospect,
In paths that are never the same.
Life in its innocence, life in its trials,
Life in its mirth and its merciless miles
Is something we each have the privilege to face,
Each life its own story and none a disgrace,
“Life as I know it,” by name.
_______________________
MPAA rating: PG
One genre that I’ve barely scratched the surface of is documentaries. I’ve always thought of them as interesting and informative, but lacking in entertainment value. Seriously, would you rather watch a Disney movie or a documentary? (I know; depends on which one, right?) Not to mention, I’m always suspect of many “true” stories if there seems to be an agenda behind them. The few documentaries I’ve seen have been quite good (In the Shadow of the Moon, The Drop Box), but they haven’t whet my appetite to seek out others of their kind. Life, Animated has.
I actually had a unique opportunity with this film. It was being shown at a local theater that usually shows second-run movies for $2, but they were showing Life, Animated for free, presented by a local autism organization complete with a Q & A with Ron Suskind, the father of the film’s subject. That subject is Owen Suskind, who seemed like a normal child until he stopped talking at the age of three and was diagnosed with regressive autism. After years of silence, he found his voice again through the inspiration of Disney’s animated films. Donning a hand puppet of Iago from Aladdin, his father discovered that Owen would converse with him through the puppet. Over time, they were able to share conversations with dialogue memorized from Disney films, and Owen even learned to read using the names in the credits.
Life, Animated features a pleasantly non-linear style, jumping between 23-year-old Owen in the present day as he learns to be more independent and flashbacks to young Owen, often told through semi-animated drawings. Owen himself is winsome and naïve, still somewhat of a child who has come a long way and has far yet to go. My earlier suspicion of documentaries being potentially manufactured doesn’t apply to him, since he is inherently earnest and open whether a camera is there or not. Ron called this sincerity a “compensatory strength” to offset Owen’s social weaknesses and mentioned that the cameraman called him one of the best subjects he’d filmed.
Interspersed with Owen and Ron’s narration are a multitude of film clips from Disney classics and even an unexpected cameo from some voice actors. Honestly, I can’t imagine any bigger compliment to Disney filmmakers than this movie, a tribute to how their work literally helped to change Owen’s life, which might explain why they allowed the use of their fiercely guarded films for a reasonable price. As much as we all love Disney movies, they are mere entertainment to most of us, while to Owen, they were a lens through which he could understand daily life. In a world that was suddenly hard to make sense of, he latched onto this “scripted constant” that provided accessible insights, which the film’s editors managed to translate to the screen. When Owen and his brother regret having to grow up, they reference the likes of Mowgli and Peter Pan. When Owen talks about enduring bullying in school, we see Quasimodo’s flogging in The Hunchback of Notre Dame. When Owen suffers his first taste of romantic pain, we remember Ariel’s despair over Eric in The Little Mermaid. During Owen’s first night on his own, he watches Bambi.
The film’s most fascinating visual touch is two extended animated sequences of a story Owen wrote called The Land of the Lost Sidekicks, brought to life by the French animation studio Mac Guff. In a swirling, painterly style, Owen imagines himself as the protector of various Disney side characters, battling despair and darkness. It’s simple yet profound, like so much of Owen’s story. Owen was encouraged that Life, Animated showed him to be, not a sidekick, but on a hero’s journey, and the struggles and joys he goes through depict him as a person, rather than a collection of tics as autism may seem at first glance. As Owen relates during a climactic speech, those with autism can latch onto any number of fixations, and Disney films allowed him to comprehend a constantly changing world. During the Q & A afterward, Ron confirmed autism’s similar patterns when he and a young man in the front row, much like Owen, shared a few back-and-forth lines of dialogue from The Lion King. (I was also interested to learn from Ron that Owen has branched out into live-action films and enjoys the Dark Knight trilogy as well.)
It may not be saying much, but Life, Animated is one of the best documentaries I’ve seen, and despite its independent status, I do hope it gets some notice for a Best Documentary nomination during Oscar season. Not only does it ennoble the Disney canon as “human sagas of struggle and triumph,” but it provides an endearing look at how they helped shape one boy’s inspiring development. Owen’s family is a constant encouragement for him, worrying and helping him however they can, and one question his parents asked was particularly resonant: “Who decides what a meaningful life is?” Ron said his wife and he asked it many times, but Owen finally answered it. “I do.”
Best line: (see above)
Rank: No documentary has made me reconsider my opinion of them like this one, but I still can’t help but put them in a different category from “regular” movies. Thus, any documentary reviews won’t be eligible for my List but will just use a simple Five Star system, and this one is definitely worth Five Stars!
When competition leads to victory,
One slip can worsen failure’s sting.
To erase disgrace and reclaim the first place,
Out of many, your harmony must sing.
Sing along, sing along,
Perhaps a right can fix a wrong.
You’re gonna meet the future soon
And you will meet it still in tune,
If you sing now and then all your life long.
_____________________
MPAA rating: PG-13
Rarely has there been a sequel I so clearly enjoyed more than the original. Despite the fact that both Pitch Perfects were written by Kay Cannon, the screenwriter manages to overcome one of my main complaints about the first film –the lack of humor—with some greatly improved comedy.
The plot is essentially the same: a performance fiasco ruins the reputation of the Barden Bellas, which leads to training, a rivalry, tempers flaring, bonding, and a big musical face-off for which no one could possibly guess the outcome. Likewise, the characters haven’t changed much: Brittany Snow’s Chloe is now the obsessive Bella leader in place of Aubrey (who’s graduated but still gets some screen time), Hana Mae Lee’s Lilly still spouts bizarre non sequiturs, Ester Dean’s Cynthia-Rose still acts tough and gay, and Rebel Wilson’s “Fat Amy” is still her crude but fearless self. Yet when the stories and characters are so similar, the comedic differences shine all the brighter. I laughed more in the first twenty minutes of Pitch Perfect 2 than during the whole of the first film. Perhaps the characters simply grew on me with exposure, but they were all far more likable this time around. Some new characters were also welcome, such as Hailee Steinfeld as the amateur songwriter Emily and Chrissie Fit as a Latina constantly contrasting Chloe’s panicking with her own extreme Third World experiences. Again, the two a cappella commentators, played by Elizabeth Banks (who also directed this sequel) and John Michael Higgins, remain the most hilarious piece of the ensemble, especially when they throw political correctness out the window.
The one place that Pitch Perfect 2 may fall a bit short of the first is the music; the a cappella song-sampling is still full of catchy mixed beats from every era, but I was less familiar with the soundtrack as a whole (though I loved that the very first song was “Timber”). Even so, the sequel does try to outdo its predecessor, making the Bellas’ rivals a massive German collective who understand spectacle and turning the first film’s Riff-Off into a higher-stakes competition, even featuring the Green Bay Packers for some reason. Even if the main plot was identical, I did like the direction the subplots took. Aside from Fat Amy being paired with the man who threw a burrito at her in the first film, Beca had to realize that her experience with a cappella and mash-ups did not a music career make. Often hobbies we enjoy or even find success at don’t always translate into a practical vocation, and how Beca responded to that inconvenient truth felt like a real and worthwhile lesson for an otherwise silly movie.
Pitch Perfect 2 still isn’t quite the kind of film I gravitate toward, but it’s one I’d gladly see again. I wasn’t expecting much after the first film, but my low expectations allowed me to enjoy its sequel far more than I anticipated. With a third film on the way next year, I’m more optimistic for it now, and I hope they can conclude this trilogy in pitch perfect fashion.
Best line: (John, the commentator, during a Bellas performance) “An overweight girl dangling from the ceiling. Who hasn’t had that dream?”
(Gail) “Lots of us!”
A cappella singers need a team.
It doesn’t work when on your own.
Voices merge, converge, and to new heights they surge
As a chorus of perfect pitch and tone.
Sing along, sing along,
It doesn’t matter what’s the song.
You’re gonna be the coolest nerds
If you remember all the words,
And you sing one for all, just sing along.
__________________
MPAA rating: PG-13
Yep, there’s a competition for everything, even a cappella singing, so it was only a matter of time before Hollywood found a way to make a movie out of it. I for one enjoy a cappella, especially modern groups like Pentatonix, and I was actually well familiar with this film’s soundtrack long before I saw it, in particular Anna Kendrick’s rendition of the “Cups” song. I had hoped that Pitch Perfect‘s comedy could match the quality of its music, but that was obviously too high a bar. I came for the music, and ultimately I stayed for the music since Pitch Perfect had little else going for it.
After the Barden Bellas are humiliated at the highest collegiate competition, only Aubrey (Anna Camp) and Chloe (Brittany Snow, whose voice I know from Whisper of the Heart) carry on the mantle of the disgraced singing club and must recruit a winning new team. Enter the rest of the cast through auditions both chuckle-worthy and cringe-worthy. While jokes are made at the few members who fail to stand out, the key characters are well-distinguished, most notably the unabashed “Fat Amy” (Rebel Wilson), who introduces herself as such, and the quietly weird Lilly (Hana Mae Lee), whose barely audible voice makes one wonder why she was even recruited at all. And then there’s Anna Kendrick as Beca, the sensible outsider with musical career aspirations and a good ear for mash-ups. Unsurprisingly, the disparate group must all work together to overcome Aubrey’s control-freak tendencies and Beca’s independence and beat out their favored rivals, the Treblemakers, who aren’t necessarily better, just more exuberant.
There’s not much in the plot that hasn’t been seen before; in fact, the sequence of events in the competition is almost identical to another musical film from the same year, Joyful Noise. The characters are what should set Pitch Perfect apart, and they only half succeed. Quirks and characterization abound, but when the word b*tch is thrown around so much, it’s unfortunate that it fits most of the cast at one point or another. Plus, I found it odd that, instead of the biggest jerk of the film being brought down a peg as is usual, he was actually rewarded and sent away. In addition, I have yet to see an instance in any film where a vomit gag is anything but gross; when will screenwriters realize that throwing up just isn’t funny? That goes for many of the other jokes too, with the key exception of Elizabeth Banks and John Michael Higgins as the barb-trading a cappella commentators. They were a hoot, even if their criticism of the Bellas didn’t always seem deserved.
I don’t mean to sound totally negative since it’s not as if Pitch Perfect tries to be more than dumb fun; that’s what it is for the most part and excels mainly on the musical side of things, which is the reason the film exists in the first place. Every musical number was entertaining with several being sensational, and it was enjoyable to hear well-blended mash-ups of songs I hear often on the radio and my own iPod. Besides the music, I also loved the movie plugs of Skylar Astin as Jesse, Beca’s Treblemaker would-be boyfriend, who had the most charm of any character and introduced Beca (and maybe a teenage viewer or two) to The Breakfast Club.
As I said before, I watched Pitch Perfect for the music, and that’s the main reason to see it, along with the pretty (but crass) girls singing it. The sometimes quotable dialogue, both sharp and blunt at the same time, may not carry as much humor for me as I’d like, but the film at least did justice to the ear-pleasing appeal of “organized nerd singing.”
Best line: (Gail, one of the commentators) “The Barden Bellas went deep into the archive for that song, John. I remember singing it with my own a cappella group.”
(John) “And what group was that, Gail?”
(Gail) “The Minstrel Cycles, John.”
(John) “Well, that’s an unfortunate name.”
And here’s the music video for “Cups” or “When I’m Gone,” directed by Pitch Perfect‘s director Jason Moore; I love long, complex takes, so this is one of my favorite music videos.
When searching for the perfect mate,
We aim at the exterior.
With lesser looks, we hesitate
And seek a different him or her.
We never mean to judge them wrong,
For shouldn’t passion please the eye?
And yet how often do we long
For just the person we pass by?
We’ve heard it all, from school to camp,
Of books and covers, and ’tis true.
True love needs not perfection’s stamp
To be the perfect one for you.
______________________
MPAA rating: PG-13
I can never fully predict what kind of movies my VC will like. I wouldn’t have guessed that the Farrelly brothers’ Shallow Hal would be her kind of movie, yet, while it’s not among her favorites, it holds an odd appeal for her, perhaps because of star Jack Black. I do rather understand, though. For me, it’s a lot like 1987’s Mannequin, a film that I recognize as not very good or even funny, yet remains entertaining and milks its unique concept for all it’s worth.
After some bad deathbed advice from his father, Hal Larson (Black) grows up looking only on the outside, choosing his dates solely on their hotness. When the real-life Tony Robbins takes notice of his shallow ways, he gives Hal some positive-thinking hypnosis that causes him to recognize someone’s inner beauty in their outward appearance. Ergo, ugly people with hearts of gold look gorgeous while beautiful jerks look repulsive, though it apparently doesn’t affect people he’s already met. After some unwitting encounters with “attractive” girls, Hal meets Rosemary, who looks like the thin and lovely Gwyneth Paltrow we all know but is really morbidly obese. She finds his unbiased treatment of her refreshing, yet inevitable misunderstandings and the eventual truth threaten their unconventional bond.
What Shallow Hal could use the most is more humor. It’s one of the many comedies that settles for amusing with little chance at laughing out loud, and it confirms that Jack Black is hit-and-miss with his awkward brand of bumptiousness. Jason Alexander as Hal’s buddy is arguably even more shallow than Hal and earns a few chuckles with his unrealistic standards, but much of the humor consists of fat jokes aimed at Rosemary, along with Hal’s oblivious reactions that make her fall for him in the first place. It never verges into tasteless territory, but the comedy only hits its mark half the time.
Yet Shallow Hal has its moments, particularly when it leans toward the dramatic. Hal’s “gift” really does improve his perceptions and offers Rosemary a sorely needed self-esteem boost; as naturally attractive as she is, Paltrow expresses a self-deprecating diffidence both in and out of her fat-suit prosthetics. Hal’s rose-colored vision also provides some eye-opening revelations, a couple of which touchingly hit home.
I can see how Shallow Hal could be mildly controversial but not for the obvious reason. The fat jokes may bother some (though not my VC, who herself is “weight-challenged,” as she says), but as with the much maligned Soul Man, viewers need to look beyond the surface to see the film’s message, which is encouragingly respectful of the overweight and their sensitivities. On the other hand, the film’s message has its own negative. Hal’s “gift” seems to confirm the generality that kind people with great personalities are ugly and vice versa, and the attractive ones are probably nasty deep down. The truth is that personality has little to do with looks, but the film doesn’t go that far.
In Shallow Hal, it’s the humor that’s shallow and the themes that at least try to be deep. My VC does have a soft spot for it, likely due to the ending lesson to love regardless of appearances. Though it could have been much better, its caricatured heart is in the right place.
Best line: (Hal) “You know, there are a few times in a guy’s life – and I mean two or three, tops – when he comes to a crossroads, and he’s gotta decide. If he goes one way, he can keep doing what he’s been doing and be with any woman who’ll have him. And if he goes the other way, he gets to be with only one woman, maybe, maybe for the rest of his life. Now it seems that by taking the other road, he’s missing out on a lot. But the truth is, he gets much more in return. He gets to be happy.”
Into town the stranger rode,
No history or name.
Revenge was due, a debt was owed,
And yet no other came.
All in town their worry showed
But covered up their shame,
Remembering the episode
For which they were to blame.
The still and sullen streets forebode
A secret, savage aim.
Into town the stranger rode,
And justice did the same.
________________
MPAA rating: R
For someone who loves movies, I do seem to have some glaring blind spots when it comes to expanding my repertoire. I’m a stranger to Tarantino and zombie films (though I don’t really care to be acquainted), and I’ve just recently begun exploring the most recent James Bond, Oliver Stone, and classic Hitchcock. One actor/director I know more by reputation than experience is Clint Eastwood. High Plains Drifter is actually the first western I’ve seen of his, and it confirmed why he is such a commanding screen presence.
Drawing from Eastwood’s experience with spaghetti westerns, High Plains Drifter also borrows certain elements from the likes of Seven Samurai and High Noon. Like Seven Samurai and its American remake The Magnificent Seven, the small desert town of Lago, named for the oddly located lake bordering it, lives in fear of the return of vengeful bandits and looks to a skilled stranger for salvation. Like High Noon, the film builds to the inevitable showdown between the lone defender and the encroaching enemy. A key question that sets High Plains Drifter apart, though, is “Is the town worth saving?” The townspeople in Seven Samurai and High Noon were prone to ingratitude and fear, but the settlers of Lago sit upon a cruel secret that takes much of the sympathy out of their plight.
Eastwood has played many a tough guy for the ages, not least of which is the nameless Stranger who rides into town without a word, backed by Dee Barton’s spookily atmospheric score. When the Stranger proves his grit and his aim by killing Lago’s supposed defenders, the sheriff begs him to protect them, promising him anything he wants in return. Despite his distaste for the town, the Stranger agrees and proceeds to take full advantage of the open-ended offer, ordering free drinks, the entire hotel to himself, and other unreasonable demands that seem meant to punish the town as a whole. The film walks a fine line between the Stranger’s abuse and how deserving the town may be of it, crossing the line on occasion when he freely rapes two women, who unrealistically don’t seem to mind too much after the fact. Except for that needless exploitation, Eastwood’s Stranger proves to be a compellingly mysterious anti-hero, whose intentions for the town itself remain uncertain right to the end. When asked what comes after the showdown, he defiantly replies, “Then you live with it.”
Far from Eastwood’s first rodeo, High Plains Drifter is a brazen western that questions the decency of frontier folk. Aside from Eastwood, Billy Curtis plays his closest ally, the diminutive Mordecai who has also felt the town’s malice, and Richard Bull appears as a shopkeeper, a year before he played the owner of Oleson’s Mercantile on Little House on the Prairie. I can’t say how High Plains Drifter compares with Eastwood’s other westerns (yet), but it’s a somewhat haunting entry in the western genre that gives a whole new meaning to “painting the town red.”
Best line: (the Stranger, after an overdue assault from his rape victim) “Wonder what took her so long to get mad?”
Our human nature is a lake
Where most content themselves to take
A shallow view for comfort’s sake,
But few will dare the deep.
The poets plumb it with their verse,
And nihilists would make it worse
While sages study to reverse
Its ever-waning creep.
When someone dives and brings to light
A bit of psyche to indict
That questions what is wrong and right,
How often do we balk!
We point the finger, hide from view,
Insist that it cannot be true,
And say we’re wiser than the few
Who failed temptation’s knock.
To fear a truth and disregard
Depravities that perish hard
Will leave us only further marred
By lessons left unlearned.
The depths we’d rather not explore
Are those we most should not ignore,
For by the schemer who knows more
Is human nature turned.
________________
MPAA rating: PG-13 (for one lone obscenity and some subject matter, could even be PG)
I had never heard of the Milgram experiment before Experimenter, but its social impact is considerable. While hearing of the shock-based college study brought to mind Venkman’s similar parody at the beginning of Ghostbusters, the actual experiment touched upon serious questions ranging from the compliance of Nazi subordinates to social engineering and people’s natural reluctance to rebel against authority. It’s thought-provoking research, which inspired an equally provocative film.
While Experimenter is a scrutiny of Stanley Milgram himself as well as a restaging of his most famous work, it begins where his fame did: the shock experiment. As Milgram (Peter Sarsgaard) watches from behind a one-way mirror, his assistant brings in two volunteers, one to answer questions and receive electric shocks for wrong answers and one to administer the questions and shocks. The shock-ee is actually part of the ruse and re-creates sounds of pain from a closed room, while the shocker is urged to continue increasing the voltage no matter what. A majority of participants lacked the will to resist and yielded to pressure to deliver supposedly life-threatening shocks, simply because they were told to. Only 35% refused.
The orchestrated scenario forms the beginning of the film but is also intercut with Milgram’s life, including meeting his eventual wife (Winona Ryder). During all this, Sarsgaard speaks directly to the audience, discussing the experiment and his findings like a purveyor of mental provocation. Indeed, that’s how he sees himself and his job as a social psychologist; he’s merely presenting facts for academia and the public to discern as they will and is surprised at the controversy he attracts. More people seem critical of how he tricked his participants than of their actual responses. Later, Milgram tries to diversify his reputation with different social experiments, like confirming the “Six Degrees of Separation” principle that applies to more than just Kevin Bacon, but he’s always pulled back to his original shock experiment, both by colleagues and in the public eye.
Throughout the film are examples of how Milgram’s work was viewed. He’s forced to conduct followup interviews to test the emotional “damage” done to participants. Uninformed strangers complain about how he shocks people, not even understanding the details of the experiment. When Milgram informs his class that President Kennedy’s been shot, no one believes him, thinking it’s just a hoax to elicit a reaction. In addition, the filmmakers employ some curious creative choices, such as changing some backgrounds into stage-like painted backdrops. At certain points during Milgram’s fourth-wall-breaking narration, an elephant appears behind him, suggesting that he is always followed by “the elephant in the room.”
Sarsgaard does an outstandingly muted job in the role of Milgram, as does Ryder as his wife, though their marital struggles are a bit too generic to compare with the social questions presented. I was surprised at some of the minor supporting players: Jim Gaffigan ventures away from comedy as one of Milgram’s accomplices, while Dennis Haysbert plays Ossie Davis, who appeared with William Shatner in a 1976 TV movie about the Milgram experiment called The Tenth Level. Even the late Anton Yelchin appears in a barely noticeable role as an aide to the experiment.
Experimenter‘s deliberate pace doesn’t make it the most entertaining of biopics, but it’s a psychologically stimulating study that, like Milgram, asks difficult questions for the viewer to consider. As one of Milgram’s colleagues posits about atrocities, “The techniques change, the victims change, but it’s still a question. How do these things happen? How are they institutionalized?” The answers may be disturbing, but they are better off acknowledged than scorned. We as humans hate to think of what any one of us could be capable of under the worst conditions, but the worst parts of human nature are not all-inclusive. Thirty-five percent refused to continue the experiment. Would that include you?
Best line: (Milgram) “Human nature can be studied but not escaped, especially your own.”
Right-side up is upside down
To those who smile when they frown,
To those who plunge whene’er they jump
Or rise when tripping on a bump
Or gobble down and up their meals
And sink a little in high heels,
To those who elevate a bit
If they lean over, kneel, or sit,
To those who set a precedent
When they descend on their ascent.
Up and down can be subjective.
‘Tis a matter of perspective.
____________________
MPAA rating for Upside Down: PG-13
MPAA rating for Patema Inverted: should be PG
For the next Cartoon Comparison, I’ve chosen two science fiction films with wildly imaginative concepts that happen to be suspiciously similar. Both the live-action Upside Down from Canada and the anime Patema Inverted from Japan feature the idea of opposite gravities: people walking on the ceilings, objects falling up, and the unlikelihood of two oppositely oriented young people overcoming the hatred of their politically hostile worlds. What differs is the way their worlds interact and the pseudo-scientific “explanation” for the curious gravitational situation.
Upside Down came first so if there was any copying being done, the live-action film can claim to be the original. Here, as explained by the narration of Adam (Jim Sturgess), two planets orbit each other so closely that there is essentially no sky. Looking up from either world, one simply sees the other planet’s surface, about as far away as a skyscraper, echoing perhaps the folding city street in Inception. One planet is considered Up Top, full of wealth and societal power, while the other is the economically exploited Down Below, though there’s no telling how they were named, considering the potential confusion of “up” and “down.” Luckily, the extraordinary visuals elevate the film’s none-too-subtle class struggle. Even if there were moments that I wasn’t sure what I was seeing at first, the remarkable effects were a marvel to the eye.
As for the love story, Adam from Down Below happens to meet Eden (Kirsten Dunst) from Up Top, and they share remote romantic rendezvous in the mountains until the government breaks them apart. Years later, as Adam experiments with a practical anti-gravity serum, he seizes a chance to see Eden again at Transworld, the tower-like corporate bridge between the two worlds. The two leads certainly have chemistry, but due to a certain plot point, they don’t get to take much advantage of it, and Sturgess’s behavior can be awkward at times.
Yet Adam’s quest to reunite with Eden without being caught by the authorities leads to a good deal of inventiveness, such as his attempt to weigh himself “up” and pose as a citizen of Up Top. Unfortunately, logic gets in the way at times, including the film’s own invented gravitational rules. For instance, Adam never seems to have a problem with the blood flowing to his head when upside down. Wouldn’t that be both uncomfortable and a possible give-away to anyone who might notice? In addition, one of the planetary laws is that matter from opposite worlds eventually burns, but the time it takes for this to happen seems inconsistent. By film’s end, the conclusion is peculiarly rushed, offering a blanket resolution to crucial issues it couldn’t hope to address and doesn’t try. Upside Down is brilliant in concept, less so in execution, but the visuals alone are worth the watch.
Upside Down may have come first, but Patema Inverted utilizes the notion of inverse gravity far better, in my opinion. Perhaps the fantastical image of falling up is simply more credible in animation rather than live-action CGI, but it certainly captured the imagination of director Yasuhiro Yoshiura, who previously directed the compelling series-turned-movie Time of Eve. (I was impressed by both Patema and Time of Eve separately but didn’t realize till afterward that they shared the same director.)
Instead of the up-front exposition of Upside Down, Patema Inverted takes its time to show and develop the gravitational anomalies as the characters discover them. Patema is a girl living in a City of Ember-like underground bunker and seems to be one of the few inhabitants to show an interest in the Forbidden Zone, where dust floats upward and “bat people” are rumored to lurk. After a close encounter, she finds herself dangling from a fence with the sky looming “below” her. Luckily, she is saved by the equally curious surface boy Age, who seems upside down to her. Age lives under a totalitarian dystopian government, whose leader is determined to root out the surviving inverts, who made their way underground after a catastrophic accident sent most of them falling into the sky years ago.
Upside Down basically lacked any sky; there was only so far someone could fall. Patema Inverted, however, makes the sky an imposing threat, a beautiful but dangerous abyss ready to swallow Patema without Age’s assistance. The animation is frequently dazzling, especially when the point of view shifts to contrast Age’s perspective with Patema’s. As Patema ventures into Age’s world and he ventures into hers, the distinction of up and down becomes fluid. The plot even takes some initially confusing twists that challenge the viewer’s perceptions and require some extra thought to fully comprehend. Some might be befuddled, but I found it fascinating. Plus, the musical score is enchanting and perfectly complements the film, including the gorgeous credits song “Patema Inverse,” which is sung in Esperanto and earns a place in the End Credits Song Hall of Fame. Between this and Time of Eve, I’m definitely hoping that Yoshiura continues to create such intriguing films.
I will admit that Patema Inverted seems to draw some inspiration from Upside Down. The cause of the inverted gravity differs (natural phenomenon vs. manmade disaster), but how the two gravities interact is the same: the lesser weight lightens the gravity of the other. This leads to the couples in both films holding on to each other to prevent the other from falling away, and being able to defy gravity by using each other’s weight. Writing about it doesn’t seem to do it justice, but it’s clever, cool, and undeniably similar in both films. As original as Patema Inverted is, I can’t help but wonder how much inspiration it drew from the earlier film. In addition, Patema is also rather slow in its gradual plot progression, and the villain is stereotypically bad for bad’s sake.
Despite these minor “down”-sides, Patema Inverted is easily the better film. Upside Down may have brought gravitational sci-fi to life first, but its conventional plot can’t compare with the thought-provoking vision of its animated counterpart.
Best line from Upside Down: (Adam) “Gravity, they say you can’t fight it. Well, I disagree. What if love was stronger than gravity?”
Best line from Patema Inverted: (Age, when holding onto Patema) “I get it! Your weight makes me light.” (Patema) “Girls don’t like it when you talk like that!”
Rank for Upside Down: List Runner-Up
Rank for Patema Inverted: List-Worthy
Do you recall the sirens?
The smoke-enveloped holes?
The billow blurred
And heavenward
Conveyed the victims’ souls.
Do you recall the terror
Of what was next to come,
The utter hell
As bodies fell
And minds and hearts went numb?
I didn’t watch the pictures
Ingrained on every brain.
I’ve seen them since
And felt the wince
That others bore with pain.
Like me, a generation
Has grown up towerless.
The shock and awe
That once was raw
We’ve had years to suppress.
One might regard us lucky,
The way we understand,
A distance free
From history
That many saw firsthand.
Although the blow is muted
For those younger than I,
We won’t let fade
The price once paid
By heroes when they die.
________________
MPAA rating: PG-13
Last year, I wanted to commemorate 9/11 by seeing the deeply effective United 93, and this year I did the same with World Trade Center, the slightly less acclaimed film from the same year. Based on the real-life experiences of Port Authority police officers John McLoughlin and Will Jimeno, who were buried under the rubble of Ground Zero, World Trade Center poignantly recreates the cavalcade of emotions of that infamous day.
From the first scenes, the film conjures the calm before the storm as everyday people perform their morning routines. Neither Jimeno (Michael Peña) nor his no-nonsense sergeant McLoughlin (Nicolas Cage) seems notable in their roles, yet when a plane flies into the North Tower of the World Trade Center, neither hesitates to venture into its lower levels. These early scenes highlight the uncertainty of the moment: conflicting reports of the severity of the damage, falling bodies, officers and civilians alike staring in shock at the smoking tower; and most of the scenes of the building seemed to be actual footage rather than a re-creation.
Despite the potent depiction of familiar events, most of the film is concerned with the aftermath, from McLoughlin and Jimeno struggling to stay alive beneath the debris to their worrying families. While a few scenes are confusing and the pacing becomes a bit paralyzed during their wait, the story still holds a relatable force in each family’s agonizing anticipation and the relieved cheer at any good news. Both Cage and Peña deliver excellent performances, as do Maria Bello and Maggie Gyllenhaal as their respective wives, and the ordeal is compelling enough that tears are probable by the end. (Also, Lost alert for William Mapother or “Ethan” as a Marine.)
World Trade Center is an admirable tribute to the first responders of 9/11, an impartial testimony thankfully free of the political messages for which its director, Oliver Stone, is known. I especially respect the religious overtones so often absent or limited in disaster movies; here, they extend to desperate prayers, God-led duties, and even a literal manifestation of Jesus. Even so, with its recognizable stars and anxieties common to most disaster films, it feels like a 9/11 movie, whereas United 93 felt like observing the actual events. Nonetheless, both are worthwhile commemorations of the courageous sacrifices made fifteen years ago.
Best line: (McLoughlin) “9/11 showed us what human beings are capable of. The evil, yeah, sure. But it also brought out the goodness we forgot could exist. People taking care of each other for no other reason than it was the right thing to do. It’s important for us to talk about that good, to remember. ‘Cause I saw a lot of it that day.”
Not knowing where you’re headed
Or even where you’re from
Can lead you to frontiers remote
And thrills to keep yourself afloat
And friends you never thought you’d meet,
And yet you still feel incomplete.
You may seem empty-headed,
But none should think you dumb.
With memories returning
And hopes you can’t subdue,
You may pursue the past one day
In hopes that what you lost will stay.
The blanker slate is worry-free,
But most would fill it happily.
The answer to your yearning
Is waiting there for you.
_____________________
MPAA rating: PG
Of all the studios churning out unnecessary sequels to films widely considered untouchable, I trust Pixar the most. Finding Nemo is one of my most beloved films, animated or not, and when a sequel is announced for one of your favorites, I think most people are torn between excitement and fear of disappointment. I wanted Finding Dory to be good, but how could it compare to the original? Luckily, as they’ve proven in every case but Cars 2, Pixar isn’t content to drop the ball for sequels and managed to create a worthwhile story dedicated to everyone’s favorite forgetful fish.
From the very beginning, as the adorable short film Piper segues to an equally adorable baby Dory, Finding Dory cleverly builds a film based entirely on a single line from the first film: Dory’s brief mention of family and the quickly forgotten question “Where are they?” It seemed like a throwaway gag at the time, but Dory is no throwaway character. We see in repeated flashbacks how her parents (Diane Keaton and Eugene Levy) struggled to train and encourage her to overcome her short-term memory loss, and the separation that follows highlights what a disability it is. As hilarious as Dory’s antics are, I never really considered how vulnerable and directionless her condition made her. It’s no wonder that Marlin’s mission filled such a void in her life, and now it’s his and Nemo’s turn to help Dory find her own family, which happens to lead them to the Marine Life Institute in California.
One thing that should be said of Finding Dory is that Pixar has not limited themselves for believability. A gleeful absurdity runs through many parts and particularly during the hilarious climax, not unlike the off-the-wall creativity in Inside Out. But whereas that was inside a girl’s head, this is ostensibly the real world, and a greater suspension of disbelief is required as fish jump between every body of water in sight, big or small. Most examples can be easily overlooked, but it is odd that the first film made an epic quest out of the distance between the Great Barrier Reef and Sydney, while this one transports the characters from Australia to California within minutes. I guess the destination is more important than the journey in this case. Other questions abound, like “Do whale sharks really speak whale (when they are actual sharks, not whales)?” and “Does underwater echolocation really work outside the water too?” But if you just roll with the filmmakers’ indulgences, none of these should affect one’s enjoyment.
The animation is just as spectacular as the first film’s and greater in many cases, especially a first-person slide-away that heightens the trauma of the moment. Seeing the diversely populated exhibits at the institute reminded me of the wonder I always relished whenever I’d visit an aquarium as a kid. That was always my favorite kind of field trip, and Finding Dory reminded me how much I miss those visits, though I have an entirely new view of those innocent little touch pools. The voice cast is also superb, between the return of Ellen DeGeneres as Dory and Albert Brooks as Marlin, and the addition of a host of supporting players, from barking sea lions (Idris Elba and Dominic West) to the grumpy octopus Hank (Ed O’Neill), whose lithe acrobatics facilitate most of the out-of-water experiences. My VC can’t stand the sight of octopi, and while she has yet to see Finding Dory, I’m hoping Hank will alleviate her dislike a bit. I would have liked a little more backstory for him (Could the next movie be Finding Hank?), but he’s a welcome addition, especially on a visual level.
In a way, Finding Dory is like a much improved version of what Cars 2 attempted: giving a popular side character the spotlight to have an adventure of their own and affirm their worth. But whereas Cars 2 had little to say about Mater other than “he’s a lovable idiot so love him,” Dory’s situation has far more depth and empathy. Essentially a fish version of Leonard from Memento without the benefit of tattoos, she’s a constantly rebooting blank slate whose desire to remember is both heartbreaking and warmly resolute. Even if I don’t quite agree with her assertion that “the best things happen by chance,” Dory remains as endearing and sincere a presence as ever.
I won’t try to pretend that Finding Dory is as good as its predecessor, but I’ve seen Finding Nemo countless times. I remember crowing with laughter at Dory speaking whale, yet when you know a film practically by heart, sometimes it loses something and you wish you could see it again for the first time. Above all, Finding Dory let me laugh-out-loud with these characters again and many new ones besides. For example, I never expected Pixar to pull off such a hilarious parody of a scene from Alien and the unrelated casting of Sigourney Weaver just made it better. Finding Dory filled in gaps I didn’t think needed answering and brought me somewhat of that same feeling I had watching the first film as a ten-year-old. If a sequel had to be made, I’m glad it was this one.
Best line: (Dory) “Sigourney Weaver is going to help us!”
Rhyme and Reason 