Category Archives: Poetry

#14: The Shawshank Redemption (1994)

24 Saturday Jan 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

,

An innocent banker named Andy Dufresne
Is fingered for two vengeful murders in Maine,
Imprisoned for life for the death of his wife,
As well as her lover, life sentences twain.
 
Behind the cold fences and walls of Shawshank,
With vice and corruption unseen at his bank,
Browbeaten and humbled, Dufresne might have crumbled
And yet he shares kindness with no need to thank.
 
Befriending “the man who can get things” named Red,
Dufresne carves a niche in this prison instead.
The warden devout has no scruples about
Employing Dufresne in the scams he has led.
 
The years of routine pass without a parole,
And those who receive it are no longer whole.
Dufresne has the time and the patience sublime
To build a library, a high-minded goal.
 
With nineteen years gone, Dufresne starkly can see
The warden’s obtuseness to one simple plea.
His reason to stay is then taken away,
And Andy is ready to visit the sea.
For Andy Dufresne, hope was never in vain;
Redemption and justice at last set him free.
__________________
 

When I first saw The Shawshank Redemption, I was surprised how much I enjoyed it. It’s one of the more brutal films on my list, filled with the kind of profanity and savagery I tend to avoid. Yet, without the objectionable content, it is such a moving story and so powerfully told that I couldn’t help but join the myriad critics who have praised it.

As Andy Dufresne, Tim Robbins has that “icy and remorseless” quality that makes Andy seem like the prime suspect for a double homicide, balanced with a detached intelligence and latent mischief only fully appreciated by his fellow inmates. Though Red was intended as a white character, Morgan Freeman makes the role his own with an Oscar-nominated performance and a candid and profound voice-over that marked him as the ultimate narrator. As released “lifer” Brooks, James Whitmore complements the film’s most poignant scene, a touching example of acting, music, and direction illustrating a sad and terminal point. Bob Gunson gets surprisingly dark as Warden Norton, forever making me hesitate to use the word “obtuse.” There’s something chilling about how he hums “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” after having murdered and manipulated to protect his money laundering, and he succeeds in creating one of the few religious villains who are clearly revealed and condemned as hypocrites without condemning the faith they obviously have not taken to heart. Also (the inevitable Lost alert), hard-core guard Byron Hadley is played by character and voice actor Clancy Brown, who appeared as Kelvin on my favorite show.

Despite the gloomy, callous atmosphere of the prison, the film boasts numerous scenes of beauty and hope which are able to balance out the dark elements. Sweeping overhead shots of the prison yard are contrasted with the confined prison quarters, and the use of repeated scenes (Norton stepping from the darkness, Brooks’s farewell, Andy’s end-of-night business routine) is employed brilliantly. Though I had been previously exposed to parodies of the climactic reveal (such as Hey Arnold: The Movie), it still was a surprise for me and remains a satisfying illustration of cinematic sleight of hand. Director Frank Darabont was definitely the right fit for adapting Stephen King’s novella, and he must have enjoyed the experience, later adapting other King books like The Green Mile and The Mist, though not quite with the same skill as his first Oscar nominee.

One probable reason that I so admire the film is that it is what I would consider a “meet-‘em-and-move-on” story. Though not typical of that subgenre since Andy and Red remain static for the most part, the way in which various characters float in and out of their lives (abusive Bogs, institutionalized Brooks, tragic Tommy) is not unlike other members of the genre. Plus, all such films are marked by some kind of potentially tear-inducing consummation or reunion, and this is no exception. Despite much foul language, the film is an exquisite paean to hope, which will live on as a modern classic, because “hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.”

Best line: (Red, when Andy is playing a snatch of opera for the inmates) “I have no idea to this day what those two Italian ladies were singing about. Truth is, I don’t want to know. Some things are best left unsaid. I’d like to think they were singing about something so beautiful, it can’t be expressed in words, and makes your heart ache because of it. I tell you, those voices soared higher and farther than anybody in a gray place dares to dream. It was like some beautiful bird flapped into our drab little cage and made those walls dissolve away, and for the briefest of moments, every last man in Shawshank felt free.” (For the record, they were actually singing about revealing a man’s love affair.)

 
Rank: 60 out of 60
 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

283 Followers and Counting

#15: The Prince of Egypt (1998)

23 Friday Jan 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

, , , , ,

(Best sung to “When You Believe”)
 
In captivity,
In Egypt, Hebrews send their prayer
Waiting for their God above
To free them from their yoke.
Young Moses grows up free,
Adopted into Pharaoh’s care,
Till the past he knew not of
Cannot help but provoke.
 
He can’t live as a fraud
And sadly flees.
He finds refuge
And life anew.
Sent by his awesome God
To Rameses,
He has unease but follows through,
Though Pharaoh disagrees.
 
Brothers long ago,
The prophet and the Pharaoh clash.
All the plagues sent from the Lord
Demand his people freed.
The Pharaoh’s hardened “No”
Requires death to end the lash.
No such cost can be ignored,
And Pharaoh has to heed.
 
God’s people thus depart
To promised land,
Until the sea
Lies in the way.
Pharaoh, more sore than smart,
Makes his last stand
Until the hand of God that day
Provides salvation grand.
__________________
 

Hollywood isn’t known for remaining faithful where Biblical source material is concerned, but the greatest proof that it is possible is The Prince of Egypt, one of the first animated films of Dreamworks’ filmography. While Dreamworks Animation’s lineup has ranged from excellent (How to Train Your Dragon, Chicken Run) to mediocre (Shark Tale, Bee Movie), not since have they reached the high mark they set right from the beginning.

No Moses film yet has stuck completely to the Book, often downplaying Aaron’s involvement and Pharaoh’s vacillation during the plagues. Though this one too takes its liberties, it indeed remains faithful to the “essence, values, and integrity” of the source material, as stated in the prelude note that reveals the filmmakers’ respect for the story they’ve undertaken. The film does borrow a few aspects of The Ten Commandments, but improves upon every one. Rather than making Moses and Rameses rivals from the beginning due to a contrived love triangle, it makes them close friends and brothers pitted against each other in a tragedy of pride and divine intervention. Rather than Moses’ murder of the Egyptian being violent but somehow justifiable, in this version it is instead portrayed as an accident, allowing Moses to remain righteous while providing the shame to propel him to self-banishment. (I realize it was no accident in the Bible, but I like this kind of change.) All this improvement also comes with masterful abbreviation; events that took The Ten Commandments half an hour to portray are depicted in mere minutes of concise storytelling, sometimes funny but often of surprising depth.

Enhancing both plot and entertainment, the film’s soundtrack by Stephen Schwartz is inspired, with every song memorable and perfectly spaced in the film’s runtime. From Israeli singer Ofra Haza’s impassioned “Deliver Us” at the beginning to the Oscar-winning “When You Believe” as the Hebrews depart Egypt, the music serves the story rather than replacing it, just as the CGI flourishes enrich the beautiful hand-drawn animation. I’ve often hummed Jethro’s “Through Heaven’s Eyes” whenever speed is required (somehow it seems to make me move faster), while “The Plagues” has a dreadful majesty reminiscent of the music in Disney’s Hunchback.

Likewise, The Prince of Egypt is a perfect example of star power applied judiciously. The voice actors are all big names, including Val Kilmer as Moses, Ralph Fiennes as Rameses, Patrick Stewart as Seti, Sandra Bullock as Miriam, and Michelle Pfeiffer as Tzipporah. In each case, the voice so fits the character that I don’t just hear Jeff Goldblum but a believable Aaron, not just Danny Glover but a jolly Jethro. I could hardly recognize Steve Martin and Martin Short as Pharaoh’s magicians, who nonetheless have fun with their own song, “Playing with the Big Boys.” It’s interesting to note that, just as Kilmer also voiced the powerful yet personal depiction of God (with background whispers from the rest of the cast), Charlton Heston also voiced God in The Ten Commandments.

The most moving part (pun intended) is rightly the parting of the Red Sea, just as much a wonder to behold as it was in DeMille’s 1956 film. A shot of some enormous fish in the wall of water, lit by distant lightning, has an eerie power best suited to this animated outlet. The Prince of Egypt combines high studio quality with an earnestness unseen in many Biblical films, eschewing dark revisionism and modernist explanations in favor of faithful and profound filmmaking. It’s one of the few animated films that I feel should have been nominated for Best Picture, a brilliant example of how cartoons can be elevated to dramatic excellence.

Best line: (Miriam, singing “When You Believe”) “Many nights we’ve prayed, with no proof anyone could hear. In our hearts a hopeful song we barely understood. Now we are not afraid, although we know there’s much to fear. We were moving mountains, long before we knew we could….”

 
Rank: 60 out of 60
 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

282 Followers and Counting

#16: You’ve Got Mail (1998)

22 Thursday Jan 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

, ,

“You’ve Got Mail”
Has never grown stale
For Kathleen Kelly when online.
Anonymous,
She loves to discuss
Trivialities that somehow shine.
 
She does not know
Her chatroom beau
Is bookstore heavyweight Joe Fox.
Her own bookstore
Has charm galore
But can’t compete when conflict knocks.
 
She is upset
Once they have met,
For he excels at talking smack.
And yet online,
They’re both benign,
Not knowing who is writing back.
 
When Joe Fox learns
The truth, it burns,
And he just keeps it to himself.
As business slows,
Her store must close,
And Kathleen mourns each empty shelf.
 
Because love’s growth
Eludes them both,
Joe tries again to be her friend.
Although his strife
Undid her life,
She doesn’t mind more time to spend.
 
Through days and weeks
And lows and peaks,
Friendship and love begin to bloom.
When truth is told,
They kiss and hold
The one behind the nom de plume.
_________________
 

When it comes to Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan, most people seem to gravitate to Sleepless in Seattle, a great romantic comedy but one that suffers from their almost total lack of contact, despite memorable performances and script. Yet my VC and I have always enjoyed You’ve Got Mail even more. While it is based on a play previously adapted to film twice (1940’s The Shop Around the Corner and 1949’s In the Good Old Summertime), in some cases borrowing scenes line for line, the movie is further enhanced by references and parallels to Pride and Prejudice and Nora Ephron’s legendary dialogue. It’s one of those films I’ve seen so often that I practically know it by heart.

The two romantic leads start off unaware of each other’s existence but for trading impressions and insight via the Internet. Yes, the prominence of AOL’s “You’ve got mail” greeting dates the film, but it’s still an update from the letters used in prior versions of the story. Ryan and Hanks may not get along at first and even trade rather cruel barbs, but both of them exude charm and humor, which is simply more evident when they’re not around each other. Ryan is the underdog, owner of a small bookshop on the Upper West Side of New York; she’s friendly with her employees (Heather Burns, Steve Zahn, and Jean Stapleton) and living with a highly opinionated columnist obsessed with typewriters and himself (Greg Kinnear). Meanwhile, Hanks as Joe Fox is heir to a Barnes-and-Noble-style bookstore chain, full of discounts and lattes and a survival-of-the-cheapest mentality. He is superior to some extent, yet takes time out for his younger kin and seems like an overall decent chap. While it’s obvious that the two of them are on opposite sides, as business rivals, their back-and-forth sparring never overshadows the fact that they’re MFEO (go watch Sleepless in Seattle for clarification).

So much of this film’s success lies in the two lead actors, whose mere glances and tone offer endless amusement. There’s a scene in which their respective dates meet each other and trade unconsciously embarrassing remarks; the expressions on Hanks and Ryan’s faces are priceless. When Fox tries writing a conciliatory e-mail with ridiculous excuses, Hanks milks the unforeseen humor from the BACKSPACE button. When the script requires Ryan to respond with three yeses in a row, she fills each one with growing gravitas. They know how to say their lines perfectly, and luckily they are given plenty of notable lines to say, whether it be the meditations on the significance of Starbucks or The Godfather, the discussion of well-timed zingers, or the hilarious guesses on who the mysterious pen pal could be.

On top of all that, the film touches on some serious points, like the unstoppable advance of big-name commercialism over small-scale intimacy. Even though Kathleen and her boyfriend deride Fox as “the destroyer of city books,” when she actually visits the superstore, there’s little to dislike about all the “cheap books and legal addictive stimulants” that attract so many. The main fault is a lack of passion and knowledge in the employees (specifically Chris Messina in an early role), the personal customer connection lost amid the endless aisles. I’ll admit I enjoy visiting Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million (and Borders before they closed), but there’s something special about the well-worn shelves and comforting appeal of the “Shops around the Corner” that are still surviving, as well as a sense of loss when they fold. (See 84 Charing Cross Road for similar themes.)

Full of enduring quotes and droll character moments, You’ve Got Mail is among my favorite romantic comedies, an underseen gem and some of Ephron’s best work.

Best lines: (Kathleen, online) “So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn’t it be the other way around?”
 
(Joe, discussing his handle NY152 with Kathleen) “N-Y-one-five-two. One hundred and fifty-two. He’s a hundred and fifty-two years old. He’s had one hundred and fifty-two moles removed, so now he’s got one hundred fifty-two pock marks on his… on his face.”   (Kathleen) “The number of people who think he looks like Clark Gable.”   (Joe) “One hundred and fifty-two people who think he looks like a Clark Bar.”
 
(Joe) “I like Patricia. I love Patricia. Patricia makes coffee nervous.”
 
 
Rank: 60 out of 60
 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

282 Followers and Counting

#17: The Wizard of Oz (1939)

21 Wednesday Jan 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, ,

(Best sung to “Over the Rainbow”)
 
In a black-and-white Kansas, on a farm,
Sweet young Dorothy fears that Toto will come to harm.
From this desolate landscape, she takes flight
To a land full of color by a tornado’s might.
 
Her high arrival kills a witch,
Which pleases Munchkins whose high pitches hail her,
But Dorothy’s a target soon;
A western wicked witch with broom
Tries to assail her.
 
On the Yellow Brick Road, she makes her way
To the Wizard of Oz, who might send her home that day.
She makes friends on her journey who take part:
Scarecrow wants brains, and Tin Man dreams of a loving heart.
 
A craven lion needing nerve
Joins them in hopes that Oz will serve their hoping.
But first they must confront the Witch,
Who takes the girl without a hitch
And leaves her moping.
 
When the witch has been melted, randomly,
They return to the Wizard for their gratuity.
Though the fraud does his utmost, once he’s flown,
That’s when Dorothy knows that there is no place like home.
___________________
 

As prominent as Indiana Jones is, The Wizard of Oz is even more ingrained into popular culture. Without any reservations, I can call it the best movie for children ever made. A uniquely American fantasy, it’s imaginative and well-crafted enough to create the ravishing fantasy world of Oz, but also simple and sincere enough to appeal to the youngest of viewers.

Its hallowed spot in our culture owes much to how old it is, released in 1939 along with other classics like Gone with the Wind and Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. Because of its age, even grandparents recall seeing it when they were children, and it effectively brings out the child in everyone, whether to sing along to the Munchkins’ “Ding, dong! The Witch is dead!” or to shed a tear at Dorothy’s sappy but still heartwarming appreciation of home sweet home. If the film were made today (which it wouldn’t be, of course; the ingenious switch from black-and-white to color is also a product of perfect cinematic timing), I doubt it would receive the same universal praise. For many critics, sentimentality is easy to condemn, and only uncompromising nostalgia makes it into something enchanting.

Once Dorothy reaches Oz, most of the acting is, well, overacting, as was typical of the time, but rather than laughable histrionics, this lends the film an enhanced storybook quality, as if a parent were reading the lines of a bedtime story and pretending for their delighted listener. Judy Garland exudes innocent wonder as she enters the rainbow world of Oz, like a precursor to Lucy stepping through the wardrobe. She’s the Alice-like straight-girl to the unusually charming comrades she obtains in Oz/Wonderland, allowing the audience to marvel at their peculiarity while accepting them as lovable companions of childhood. Ray Bolger as the Scarecrow, Jack Haley as the Tin Man, and especially Bert Lahr as the Cowardly Lion are as synonymous with the film as Margaret Hamilton’s Wicked Witch of the West, the most iconic witch of all time, complete with broom, pointy hat, green skin, sinister cackle, pyrotechnics, and armies of memorable minions.

These aspects alone might have been enough to make it a childhood favorite, but the filmmakers outdid themselves in every way. While many scenes are obviously on an elaborate set, the set design is phenomenal, particularly the bright-hued (and very small) Munchkinland and the Witch’s cliffside castle. Plus, there’s outstanding choreography, whether with the crowds of the Emerald City or just the four main characters skipping down the Yellow Brick Road. Plus, there’s instantly recognizable quotes aplenty (“I’ll get you, my pretty…and your little dog too”; “Lions and tigers and bears, oh my”; “Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain”). Plus, there’s the fantastical special effects (which surprisingly did not win an Oscar), some dated but others still impressive, like the realistic twister and the fanciful costumes. Plus, there’s the most classic of classic soundtracks from Edgar Harburg and Harold Arlen, including the Oscar-winning “Over the Rainbow,” the #1 tune on AFI’s list of 100 cinematic songs, though I always enjoy the rhythmic laughter of “The Merry Old Land of Oz” as well.

All combined, this greatest adaptation of L. Frank Baum’s book is still the cinematic delight it was upon its release decades ago. Its classic status relies heavily on nostalgia, for The Wizard of Oz easily conjures the wonder, fear, and excitement that my family had when we each first saw it. It deserves to be one of the first films of childhood, so that adults can reminisce while the kids are introduced to the marvelous land of Oz.

Best line (none of the obvious): (Dorothy) “How can you talk if you haven’t got a brain?”  (Scarecrow) “I don’t know, but some people without brains do an awful lot of talking, don’t they?”

VC’s best line:  (Dorothy) “There’s no place like home!”

 
Rank: 60 out of 60
 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

282 Followers and Counting

#18: Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)

20 Tuesday Jan 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

A jungle temple full of traps,
Unknown to plunderers and maps,
Is where the pluckiest of chaps
Named Indiana Jones
Retrieves an idol made of gold,
Which he has little time to hold
Ere rival Belloq makes him fold
And takes the prize he owns.
 
A noted archaeologist,
Jones is requested to assist
The government and to resist
The Nazis’ latest harm.
They seek the Ark, up to no good,
So Jones drops in the neighborhood
Of ex-love Marion Ravenwood,
Who bears a needed charm.
 
In Egypt, Marion is caught,
And Jones attempts to find the spot
Where it may be, because it’s not
Where Nazi diggers dig.
He finds the Ark until Belloq
Again reclaims it, to his shock,
And seals Jones under sand and rock,
A snake-infested brig.
 
When Jones emerges from the sands,
The Ark then quickly changes hands,
But Belloq thinks he understands,
And Nazis look inside.
This last mistake becomes their bane,
But Jones and Marion remain.
Perhaps the things we can’t explain
Are meant for us to hide.
_________________
 

I can’t help but wonder if those who create iconic characters and scenes have any inkling of the impact their creations will have? When they were brainstorming and coming up with ideas that seemed cool to them, did George Lucas and Steven Spielberg realize how inspired their creativity was? Surely there are countless films that are more or less a paycheck for the filmmakers, but just as many have been made with a devotion and hope for success to rival the creators of Indiana Jones. Who knows what pop culture will embrace next, but Raiders of the Lost Ark certainly made a huge, indelible impression on it.

Most films are lucky to have one truly memorable scene, but Raiders has innumerable moments of action genius, the likes of which few films have matched. Heck, the first ten minutes have been parodied to no end. The film was meant to recall the action serials of the 1930s and 40s, even borrowing a few ideas here and there, but for the film’s generation and every one since, Raiders essentially replaced them. Practically everyone who has not been living under a rock has seen the giant rolling boulder, the snake-filled pit, the truck chase, and the crate-filled warehouse at the end. Even casual fans can probably recite lines of dialogue verbatim. Quite simply, Raiders of the Lost Ark is the quintessential action film, and I doubt many would disagree.

Likewise, between this and his role as Han Solo, Harrison Ford became the quintessential action star, dashing but intelligent, hard-edged but sensitive at times, tenacious but clearly human and vulnerable when the adrenaline wears off, undevout but able to recognize and respect a power beyond himself. From beginning to end, he’s likeable and a joy to watch. As his first love (at least to moviegoers), Karen Allen’s Marion Ravenwood became his preferred romantic interest, and even though it was anticlimactic, I’m glad he settled down with her in the fourth movie. John Rhys-Davies as jolly Sallah and Denholm Elliot as studious Marcus Brody are classic accessories to Jones’s adventures, and Alfred Molina found his very first role as his traitorous accomplice Satipo (though, did anyone else hear Ford say “Sapito”?). As other reviewers have said, Nazis make the best villains, easy to hate and easy to cheer when they get their comeuppance. To be honest, I’ve never found the individual bad guys like Belloq or Dietrich all that memorable, but Ronald Lacey as Nazi interrogator Toht is the perfect example of a Nazi slime ball, complete with a Peter Lorre-style accent.

In addition to iconic characters, non-stop fight scenes, and inventive action, Raiders also has plenty of humor, whether it’s Jones’s practical solution to a cocky swordsman or his as-yet unexplained fear of snakes. Plus, perhaps the most talented member of the film’s team was John Williams who provided perfect musical accompaniment for every scene, from the lighthearted fistfights to the intrepid truck rescue. If it hadn’t been for Chariots of Fire that year, the music surely would have won Best Score, in addition to its five other Academy Awards including Best Visual Effects, Best Art Direction, Best Sound, Best Film Editing, and a special one for Ben Burtt’s Sound Effects Editing.

Despite its honored place in pop culture, I don’t consider it a family film, due to the surprisingly bloody deaths for a PG film, before Temple of Doom helped introduce PG-13, especially the gruesome fates of the presumptuous Nazis. While the film presents some fallacies concerning the Ark of the Covenant, it at least affirms its supernatural power and presents the divine relic as something not to be trifled with. Worthy of its status as the ultimate actioner, Raiders of the Lost Ark introduced an oft-copied, rarely-matched film hero and now becomes the first film on my list worthy of a perfect score.

Best line: (Indy) “Meet me at Omar’s. Be ready for me. I’m going after that truck.”   (Sallah) “How?”   (Indy) “I don’t know; I’m making this up as I go!”

VC’s best line: (Marion) “You’re not the man I knew ten years ago.” (Indy) “It’s not the years, honey. It’s the mileage.”

 
Rank: 60 out of 60
 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

282 Followers and Counting

#19: War Horse (2011)

19 Monday Jan 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

, ,

A Devon-born horse with four white socks and star
Is bought at an auction by Ted Narracott.
The drunkard, discouraged by how their lives are,
Lets Albert, his son, give the horse his best shot.
 
His training of Joey allows him to plow
And buck expectations of them and their field,
But when the War starts, there’s a greater need now
For money, and horses for England to wield.
 
Assigned to the cavalry, Joey is passed
From Britain to Germany following fights.
Two brothers persuaded by promises past
In fleeing to safety surrender their rights.
 
An elderly Frenchman and his young granddaughter
Are next to take in this miraculous horse.
They try to protect him from bondage and slaughter,
But callous war comes to reclaim him by force.
 
Through marches and trenches, he tries to survive;
Through wire and fences, he ventures to flee,
But only when care and compassion arrive
Do rivals join forces to set Joey free.
 
By chance or by fate or by Providence’ will,
The unlikely promise that young Albert swore
Is kept when the both of them reunite still,
Two tired, admired survivors of war.
__________________
 

In vying for Oscars and popularity, most films nowadays constantly experiment to make themselves new. As well-done as they may be, many award-winners are becoming more dependent on gimmicks, whether it be a retro silent picture, a coming-of-age tale shot over twelve years, a drama meant to appear as one continuous take, or a musical that does away with pre-recorded tracks. Few films return to the pure, old-fashioned filmmaking of Hollywood’s Golden Age as wondrously as Steven Spielberg’s 2010 masterpiece War Horse, a return to a time when epic journeys could indulge in straightforward schmaltz and emotion without being called “sentimental,” as if that were a bad thing.

Paulie already proved that “meet ‘em and move on” films could feature an animal protagonist, but unlike that film or Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron or the Michael Morpurgo book on which War Horse is based, the animal involved is not anthropomorphized to provide narration. He acts as a character but also a sounding board for those he meets along his odyssey. In doing so, he experiences the many angles of World War I depicted throughout the story: the confident bravery of the war’s beginning, the early losses, the fears and misgivings on both sides, the heartbreaking cost forced upon innocent civilians, the devolution of battlefields into ravaged wastelands, and the unexpected kindnesses displayed throughout.

As a war film, it manages to show multiple perspectives and never demonizes one group or the other. As with every war, there are sympathetic angels and hard-nosed warriors on both sides. A scene of cooperation between a British and German soldier acts as a microcosm of the previously reviewed Christmas film Joyeux Noël, uniting them over shared humanity and sympathy for an injured innocent. One way in which the film recalls the war features of yesteryear is in its realistic but sanitized depiction of battle; despite much loss of life and some intense sequences, there’s no blood and no unnecessary brutality. I applaud Spielberg for that.

My VC doesn’t believe War Horse should be this high on my list (she’s not partial to any film with a suffering animal), but for me, War Horse is the most recent film to find a special place in my heart. Certain movies like this, Heart and Souls, and Whisper of the Heart just retain an unusual personal fondness that can’t be fully explained. The opening might be a little slow, but it highlights the formation of a life-leading friendship that compels the viewer to follow this special horse, and certain elements are made more relevant and poignant as the film progresses. In addition, the breath-taking cinematography and scenery of Devon, England, are more than enough to hold one’s attention, especially when combined with yet another moving score from John Williams. The actors are all excellent as well, from newcomer Jeremy Irvine as Albert, a heartfelt and consistently admirable lad whether in the turnip field or battlefield, to a number of recognizable English thespians, including Tom Hiddleston (Loki), Eddie Marsan (Inspector Lestrade), and Benedict Cumberbatch (Smaug, Sherlock, Khan, etc.).

War Horse indeed feels like classical filmmaking, like that of John Ford mixed with Lassie, but updated with Spielberg’s artistic touch and more natural acting. Shots of the Devon sunset carry a painterly beauty, while a scene of an execution is evocatively hidden by a turning windmill. The Artist may have been more lauded for its innovative take on classic Hollywood, but I consider War Horse the best film of 2011.

Best line: (Rose Narracott to her husband Ted, after he fears his failures will alienate her) “I might hate you more, but I’ll never love you less.”

 
Rank: 59 out of 60
 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

282 Followers and Counting

#20: The Incredibles (2004)

17 Saturday Jan 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

, , , , ,

In a comic book world full of heroes and powers,
Which nonetheless isn’t too different from ours,
Strong Mr. Incredible uses his skills
To stop evil, you know, just everyday thrills.
The day that he marries Elastigirl, though,
Is one he’ll regret, for in fighting a foe,
He makes one, and supers are forced to lie low.
 
Years later, he’s stuck in a job that he hates,
With kids and a wife who’s content with their fates.
In trying to relive his old glory days,
He captures a secretive agency’s gaze.
Things start looking up when he stops a robot,
Until he’s betrayed by his sponsor and caught.
A fan has become the new villain Syndrome,
Who plans to wreak havoc and falsehoods back home.
 
When Helen goes searching for him high and low,
With speed demon Dash and shy Violet in tow,
They’re threatened as well, but when family fights,
They do so together…and in matching tights.
They race to the city to stop Syndrome’s plot
And take out his deadlier rampaging bot.
When Syndrome is vanquished and peace is renewed,
These heroes defend when new villains intrude.
_____________________
 

While The Avengers is a better movie strictly in the superhero genre, The Incredibles offers even more: a believable family dynamic, an insightful comparison of talent versus fitting in, and yet another example of Pixar’s groundbreaking animation. Released during Pixar’s golden years, The Incredibles didn’t quite please me upon my first viewing for some reason; perhaps it was because I had already seen two other films in the theater that day. Future watchings have only improved my opinion of this exciting family favorite.

The world full of supers depicted at the beginning is practically a comic book come to life, full of routine heroics, gleeful admirers, fancy tech, and “playful banter”; from what we’ve seen, it’s not surprising that Mr. Incredible thinks they’re untouchable. Yet the story takes an unforeseen realistic turn, with lawsuits and accusations and an eventual suburban nightmare in which Bob Parr, like Jack Campbell in The Family Man, finds no satisfaction. (The only major plot hole I can see is that of supervillains, which I assume existed in the world at the beginning. It seems to me that the main reason for the existence of superheroes is to combat supervillainy, which wouldn’t obey some government sanction anyway. With all the heroes off-duty, who’s to stop the likes of Bomb Voyage or worse?)

Craig T. Nelson is ideal for Mr. Incredible, able to vocalize both oppressive boredom and heroic spirit, while Holly Hunter brings feminine resilience to his wife Helen/Elastigirl. Their son Dash (Spencer Fox) fits perfectly into the mischievous son archetype, while Sarah Vowell as daughter Violet is a bit annoying until she gets into costume. Indeed, all of the Incredibles look better with their black masks; perhaps it was intentional in the character design, but they all seem lacking without their matching red super suits. Other great voice performances come from a pre-Nick Fury Samuel L. Jackson as Bob’s pal Lucius/Frozone and director Brad Bird himself as snooty fashion designer Edna Mode.

As with so many of Pixar’s Oscar-winning features, The Incredibles combines a number of outstanding elements to perfection. Michael Giacchino’s suave yet bombastic score blends with the stylish gadgetry to create a distinctly James Bond feel, while the familiar superpowers (borrowed from the properties like Mr. Fantastic, the Flash, and the Invisible Woman) are used to ingenious effect, particularly Elastigirl’s elongated scuffle with guards and Dash’s thrilling jungle chase with those awesome bladed hovercraft. Not to mention the costume lesson that caused us to never look at capes the same way.

One of the few great superhero films to not possess a comic source material, The Incredibles won Academy Awards for both Best Animated Feature and Best Sound Editing. Mature enough to take seriously matters of marital infidelity and superhero genocide, yet lightweight and comedic enough for repeated family viewing, The Incredibles continues to be one of Pixar’s best. While most of Pixar’s films don’t need sequels (though that hasn’t stopped them), The Incredibles is one that could certainly deserve one, which is in the works, last I heard. I only hope it can compare to the original.

Best line: (Lucius) “Honey?”
(Honey) “What?”
(Lucius) “Where’s my super suit?”
(Honey) “What?”
(Lucius) “Where – is – my – super – suit?”
(Honey) “I, uh, put it away.”
(Lucius, after an explosion) “Where?”
(Honey) Why do you need to know?”
(Lucius) “I need it!”
(Honey) “Uh-uh! Don’t you think about running off doing no derring-do. We’ve been planning this dinner for two months!”
(Lucius) “The public is in danger!”
(Honey) “My evening’s in danger!”
(Lucius) “You tell me where my suit is, woman! We are talking about the greater good!”
(Honey) “’Greater good?’ I am your wife! I’m the greatest good you are ever gonna get!”
 
 
Rank: 59 out of 60
 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

281 Followers and Counting

#21: Cast Away (2000)

16 Friday Jan 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

,

Timing is the great obsession
For Chuck Noland, whose profession
As a FedEx problem solver leads him on a distant track.
Never lacking phone and beeper,
Chuck yet wants his romance deeper
And is planning to propose to Kelly once he journeys back.
 
Travel o’er the stormy ocean
Crashes Noland’s plans in motion,
And he’s left upon a beach no foot has touched upon before.
Cast away upon this isle,
Left with but a picture’s smile,
Chuck is forced to learn survival on this godforsaken shore.
 
With a volleyball attendant
On whom Noland grows dependent,
He has difficulty finding simple joys, like food and fire.
Long he waits upon the isle,
Fitter, wiser from the trial,
Till the day the brutal tide bestows a blessing to inspire.
 
Seizing chances when extended,
Noland builds a raft intended
As his freedom from the island that has been his home for years.
Rescue comes and resurrection,
And in need of new direction,
Noland mourns the loss of love until a plainer path appears.
____________________
 

Before All Is Lost, before Life of Pi, before Lost, there came Cast Away. While not the first film about an island-bound survivor, it is the most emotionally powerful, all thanks to actor extraordinaire Tom Hanks. He poured quite a bit of time and commitment into the role of Chuck Noland, first gaining weight in order to look like a chubby executive, then spending a year getting starkly thin with a full beard for the later island scenes. Many actors are at their best not saying a word, and his struggles against the surf, coconuts, and personal pain fill the long stretches of silence on the island with fascinating desperation and ingenuity.

I love the layers and hints sprinkled throughout the beginning: the Elvis connections, the ranch sign later seen partially missing, the underlying story of divorce playing out behind the scenes and waiting to become relevant to Chuck Noland, even the little copier dance with Chuck and Kelly (Helen Hunt). After a harrowing plane crash (with a scene of Chuck hanging underwater to watch sinking debris, which has been borrowed by Life of Pi and The Incredibles), Chuck is stranded on an isle not nearly as hospitable as Gilligan’s Island. While there are no wild animals or headhunters, there’s also nothing to attract distant search parties, nothing to encourage his eroding sanity, not even a single sound from an insect or a background score. He is alone. The audience is pulled into Chuck’s solitary struggle to sympathize with his loneliness, celebrate his small victories, and meet a volleyball named Wilson. (Despite all the product placement with FedEx and Wilson sporting goods, the film never feels like a commercial, instead simply using these familiar names as integral aspects of the story.)

By the time he escapes his island prison, Hanks had already earned his Oscar nomination for Best Actor, but his reaction to his subsequent loss should have clinched a win. (I think Hanks should have won, and Russell Crowe could have won the next year for A Beautiful Mind.) It’s a perfect example of how the loss of a “character” or even an inanimate object can deeply affect the audience simply by how it affects another character. I didn’t care about Wilson; he’s just a volleyball, but he was also Noland’s only friend. Hanks’s performance makes the loss far sadder than many a human death in other movies. Now that is acting!

The film is not quite perfect; despite repeated angelic symbolism, the film has no religious perspective on Noland’s plight, and a scene in which he buries a dead pilot is rather brusque in its lack of sentiment. Yet Cast Away works on many levels, not only as a story of forlorn seclusion; it’s a beautifully shot adventure, an example of the many survivalist uses of ice skates and evening gowns, a testament to the power of hope and endurance, a meditation on the simple conveniences we so often take for granted, and a lamentation of how life goes on and sometimes leaves us behind. Plus, it was the inspiration for Lost, at least in part. The suggestion of a Cast Away television series led to J. J. Abrams’ great show four years later, and it even bears a few familiar elements (a plane crash, a failed SOS; if Noland had looked harder, he might have found a hatch or a smoke monster). In many ways, Cast Away could easily have been titled Lost, best represented by the four-way dirt road in its final scene. As Alan Silvestri’s short but lovely score plays, it seems Noland has found his way; I’m not partial to many ambiguous and open-ended conclusions, but Cast Away’s is one of the best.

Best line: (Chuck Noland, to Wilson, as he is attempting to light a fire) “You wouldn’t have a match by any chance, would you?”

 
Rank: 59 out of 60
 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

281 Followers and Counting

#22: Heart and Souls (1993)

14 Wednesday Jan 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, ,

A waitress, a singer, a thief, and a mother
Get onto a bus but don’t know one another.
That changes tonight when a bus accident
Deprives them of life, leaving no one content.
 
Remaining as ghosts, they are tied to a boy,
Newborn Thomas Reilly, their pride and their joy.
Yet as he grows up, his invisible friends
Perceive that their presence is starting bad trends.
 
They vanish from view, and through maddening years,
They wait in his shadow, where none interferes…
Until a bus driver arrives for the souls,
Explaining they should have all settled their goals.
 
Their unfinished business now has urgency,
And Thomas has no choice but help with their plea.
Meanwhile, relationship troubles persist,
Especially with all the ghosts in their midst.
 
A wrong now made right and a brave second chance,
A sudden reunion and broken romance
Fulfill everyone as the souls each depart
And Thomas decides to be true to his heart.
__________________
 

Have you ever gotten on a bus with a bunch of total strangers? Have you ever wondered what it would be like to spend eternity getting to know them, whether you liked it or not? I first saw Heart and Souls as a kid, enjoyed it tremendously, and then promptly forgot about it for some years. When I rewatched it more recently, I was surprised to find it just as funny and touching as I remembered it.

This was my first introduction to several famous actors, particularly Robert Downey, Jr. as Thomas Reilly. Though his career quickly went downhill in the subsequent years (before his triumphant comeback), Heart and Souls came right after his Oscar-nominated role in Chaplin and utilizes some of the slapstick talent he displayed in that film. His acting chops are obvious, as his character is forced to do impressions of his invisible companions when they take over his body, with hilarious results. All the other actors are in top form, including Elizabeth Shue as Thomas’s girlfriend Anne, Charles Grodin as timid would-be opera singer Harrison, Kyra Sedgwick as vacillating lover Julia, Alfre Woodard as devoted mother Penny, and Tom Sizemore as lecherous burglar Milo. Their interaction with each other is just one of the film’s strengths, since spending decades within ten feet of the same people would understandably wear on the nerves while also building unexpected friendships. Their relationship with Thomas is sweet throughout, whether entertaining him with “Walk Like a Man” as a child (played by Eric Lloyd, or Charlie from The Santa Clause) or berating his jerkish tendencies as an adult.

Though the transcendent impetus for their unfinished business may imply reincarnation or guardian angel fallacies, the film is not concerned with religion but rather with the ghosts’ unfinished lives. Each of them has something that would fulfill them, whether it’s realizing a dream or learning of those they left behind, and as each ambition is achieved, there’s a satisfying sense of accomplishment worthy of a triumphant cheer or a wiped-away tear. Heart and Souls is a film I will always be fond of, for it touches both heart and funny bone in all the best ways.

Best line: (Thomas, when Harrison assumes he will remain a failure) “No offense, Harrison, but you died a failure because you never tried.”

 
Rank: 59 out of 60
 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

281 Followers and Counting

#23: Pirates of the Caribbean (2003, 2006, 2007)

13 Tuesday Jan 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

, , , ,

(Spoilers ahoy!)
 
Elizabeth Swann was a girl when there came
A boy from the ocean, Will Turner by name.
She feared him a pirate and took a gold coin
And hid it for years to protect him from shame.
When both are now grown with a love they won’t share,
The Commodore Norrington tries to declare
An offer of marriage she’s not quick to join,
Till Captain Jack Sparrow arrives debonair.
 
Locked up for his crimes, he’s surprised at the sight
Of his former ship, the Black Pearl, in the night.
Attracted by gold, the fiends capture Miss Swann,
Who lies to convince them to shove off forthright.
The Captain Barbossa abducts the lass too,
Revealing the curse on himself and his crew.
As they sail away, Will is adamant on
Releasing Jack Sparrow to hotly pursue.
 
Collecting a crew in Tortuga, Jack sails
For Isla de Muerta, where lies and betrayals
Come out and succeed in imprisoning Will,
While Jack and Miss Swann are marooned by details.
With Norrington’s aid, they return to save Will,
And swordfights galore offer many a thrill.
Barbossa is slain, and true love they fulfill,
While Jack takes the Black Pearl to roam the seas still.
_______________
 
When Lord Cutler Beckett, for whom business reigns,
Desires Jack’s compass, he goes to great pains,
Convincing first Will, then Elizabeth too,
To find Jack or else be committed to chains.
While Jack’s being Jack, he is shocked at a guest,
Old Bootstrap Bill Turner, Will’s father oppressed,
Who says Jack must pay up the debt that is due;
For now Davy Jones wants his soul on request.
 
Jack flees to an island, which Will also finds,
Where cannibals threaten with changeable minds.
Escaping the danger, they take a detour,
And witch Tia Dalma lends help of all kinds.
Jack haggles with Jones for the sake of his soul
And buys three more days at a difficult toll.
Tortuga yields souls, since they needn’t be pure,
While Will gives his father a promise and goal.
 
Jack finds Norrington and Elizabeth Swann,
Both desperate but willing to quickly move on,
For Jones’s live heart beats within a locked chest,
And he who should find it could make him a pawn.
The chest is discovered, but fighting begins
‘Twixt Norrington, Jack, and Will, none of whom wins.
As Jones’s own crew arrives at his behest,
The heart’s snatched to make up for Norrington’s sins.
 
As Jack tries to run, Jones awakens his pet,
The Kraken, to finally settle the debt.
His crew fleeing, Jack has no choice but to stay;
His unwilling sacrifice might end the threat.
With Jack and the Black Pearl devoured away,
The heart is Lord Beckett’s, to Jones’s dismay.
A plan to bring Jack back is soon underway,
With help from an old foe, whom death could not stay.
_________________
 
As Beckett is wiping out all buccaneers,
Assisted by Jones and his heart-involved fears,
Barbossa and friends are in far Singapore
In search of a map to the final frontiers.
With help from Sao Feng, one of nine pirate lords,
They head for the edge, after drawing their swords.
In Davy Jones’ Locker, they find Jack ashore,
Where he is kept company by crabby hordes.
 
So, one green flash later, there’re lies and betrayal
With Sao Feng and Beckett and all who set sail.
They learn that Calypso was Davy Jones’ lover,
A sea god imprisoned with flesh as her jail;
Barbossa will free her to aid in their plight.
Elizabeth’s made pirate lord in the night.
To Shipwreck Cove, all of the pirates take cover,
Debating on whether to lie low or fight.
 
Elizabeth’s named as the new Pirate King,
Deciding their one hope is swashbuckling.
They set free Calypso, who’s in a bad mood,
For Jones once betrayed her, a deep-seated sting.
The Pearl and the Dutchman engage in a storm,
A gift from Calypso, now back in true form.
Jack goes for the heart, that the fight may conclude,
Though he who kills Jones must his duties perform.
 
The maelstrom keeps raging amid the bloodshed.
While fighting, both Will and Elizabeth wed.
Though Jack had intended to finish the heart,
Another has more need for Davy Jones dead.
The tables are turned as the cannons restart,
And Lord Cutler Beckett’s own plans fall apart.
While true love endures, Sparrow’s shipmates depart,
But Jack’s well-prepared for a new course to chart.
____________________
 

With all the uninspired movies reading “based on a video game,” who could have foreseen that a series of swashbuckling greatness could be derived from a theme park ride? Pirates of the Caribbean was certainly a surprise when The Curse of the Black Pearl came out over a decade ago, but subsequent viewings have only raised my opinion of this action-packed, often convoluted franchise. Don’t bother with On Stranger Tides, though; it’s just not the same.

The Curse of the Black Pearl is the one that started it all, one of the few modern films to effectively introduce an instantly iconic character, Captain Jack Sparrow. Johnny Depp has always been drawn to the weird and eccentric, and his career has fluctuated wildly because of it; but here he hit his ideal stride and earned a Best Actor nomination for it. Sparrow is dashing, cunning, a bit creepy and disgusting, yet strangely alluring in a grimy sort of way, usually one step ahead of the rest, full of comic bravado and a latent good heart. He steals every scene while complementing all the other actors, like Orlando Bloom’s Will Turner and Keira Knightley’s Elizabeth Swann, semi-iconic characters in their own right. Their love story has its predictable ups and downs but also possesses that epic romantic quality that eludes many other films. A good villain always improves a film, and Geoffrey Rush is one heck of a pirate. His sneering negotiations and ruthlessness make him a memorable antagonist, and the creepy but incredible skeleton curse just augments the menace of him and his crew. Add in some powdered wigs, wondrous sword fights, clever dialogue, Oscar-nominated special effects, and one of the greatest scores of all time by Klaus Badelt (seriously, no other score captures and enhances the spirit of the film itself as this rip-roaring soundtrack, taken over by Hans Zimmer for the sequels), and Disney had a winner on their hands.

I don’t know how the filmmakers did it, but Dead Man’s Chest ups the ante in every way and remains the only Pirates film to win an Oscar, for Best Visual Effects. It introduces yet another historic villain in the form of Bill Nighy’s squid-faced Davy Jones and, to a lesser extent, Tom Hollander’s Godfather-like Lord Cutler Beckett with his obsession with “business.” This second film is the king of set pieces, varied, outlandish, and absolutely awesome! From the swinging cages on Pelegosto to the Kraken’s attacks to the astonishing three-way water-wheel duel, Dead Man’s Chest is replete with some of the best action sequences I’ve seen. As pure entertainment, it’s a twisting, crowd-pleasing thrill ride with a jaw-dropping surprise ending that left everyone in the theater clamoring for more.

When they finally got more, some may not have been entirely satisfied. Shot back-to-back with its predecessor, At World’s End has much of what made the first two great (the characterizations, breathtaking action on an even larger scale) but mixed with an unfortunate bloatedness. Even after several viewings, the film can seem like an overstuffed mess, with loads of conflicting motivations, changing allegiances, mythic plot devices, and ship-hopping. It all evens out by the finale, but the middle of the film is unnecessarily confusing. Plus, Jack’s eccentricities are morphed into full-fledged bizarreness, with strange visions of the afterlife adding nothing to the plot and scenes of multiple Jack Sparrows thrown in seemingly just for the sake of spending the film’s colossal budget. In addition, the expansion of Tia Dalma’s role brought out the fact that her Jamaican accent is incomprehensible at times; as with Yoda in The Empire Strikes Back, my VC couldn’t understand her the first time out. All that being said, ongoing viewings have increased my overall opinion of the film, including its bittersweet ending. The most impressive scene is easily the long final battle amidst a raging whirlpool that would put Charybdis to shame. As a stand-alone film, At World’s End is rather weak, but as an epic conclusion to the trilogy, it’s better than it seemed at first.

Though Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales is being shot now for a 2017 release, I doubt that Jerry Bruckheimer’s lightning will strike again, as it did with the original films, especially the first and second. Rarely have action, characters, music, and romance been combined into such an entertaining package. This year’s Tomorrowland seems to be Disney’s next shot at adapting one of their attractions, but it’s unlikely to compare to one of Disney’s most surprisingly successful franchises.

Best line from The Curse of the Black Pearl: (Captain Barbossa) “You best start believing in ghost stories, Miss Turner.  You’re in one!”

Best line from Dead Man’s Chest: (Elizabeth) “There will come a time when you have a chance to do the right thing.”  (Jack) “I love those moments. I like to wave at them as they pass by.”

Best line from At World’s End: (Barbossa) “Aye… we’re good and lost now.”   (Elizabeth) “Lost?”   (Barbossa) “For sure, you have to be lost to find a place that can’t be found, elseways everyone would know where it was.”

 
Rank: 59 out of 60
 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

281 Followers and Counting