Tag Archives: Drama

The Man Who Invented Christmas (2017)

10 Tuesday Apr 2018

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(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a poem featuring simultaneity, where more than one thing happens at the same time, a concept I applied to a writer’s creative process.)

 

The writer sat in the market square,
But that’s not all he did.
He bade “Good day” to Mrs. Wise
And fed the pigeons gathered there
And made a cat jump with surprise
And watched the vendors sell their wares.
To outward eyes,
He just sat there,
But that’s not all he did.

The mind inside the writer’s head
Was hard at work within,
Populating worlds unwritten,
Raising heroes from the dead,
Lads in love and lasses smitten,
Tales of kings that none had read,
Smiles to fit in,
Tears to shed,
And all unseen within.

So though he seemed to waste the day,
Just sitting as he did,
The writer had done no such thing.
He watched the world at work and play
And gleaned its ample offering
To shape what only he could say.
His loitering
Seemed like delay,
But that’s not all he did.
__________________

MPAA rating: PG

Considering how much I love A Christmas Carol and movies about literature, I was excited for The Man Who Invented Christmas, a yuletide biopic about Charles Dickens’ tumultuous writing of his most famous work. While I liked it quite a bit, I wonder if my hopes were too high since it wasn’t the instant classic I had thought it might be. I can’t say I was disappointed since it lived up to its trailer at least, but it didn’t surpass any of my expectations either.

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Dickens, played by Dan Stevens, hits a wall when his fame and fortune are diminished by three commercial flops in a row. After contending with writer’s block, the sight of a rich man’s funeral gives him the seed of an idea, and what the world will eventually know as A Christmas Carol speedily develops in his mind as he rushes to get it written and printed in time for Christmas sales. Along the way, he contends with his spendthrift father (Jonathan Pryce), his own past trauma, and his characters mentally coming to life, including a critical Scrooge (Christopher Plummer).

I must say that Stevens is outstanding, playing Dickens with just the right amount of ego and eccentricity, the way we imagine many creative geniuses might have been. When he entertains his children with random voices, I could imagine Robin Williams playing this role thirty years ago. Likewise, I loved the visualization of his creative process, as he interacts with characters only he can see, only to have them vanish when he is all-too-often interrupted. The story also provides a glimpse into Dickens’ difficult childhood, offering insights into what made him the ambitious but compassionate man he was, and it was interesting to see how his original plan for an unhappy ending yielded to others’ hopes and beliefs that even the worst men can change.See the source imageSo, yes, I did enjoy it, including its lesson of forgiveness and the reminder of how Dickens shaped the Christmas holiday we know today, which was not as vigorously celebrated back then. I suppose the weakest aspect was Pryce as Dickens’ father John, whose good nature is undermined by drunkenness and financial waste as he mooches off his son. Despite John’s good intentions, I didn’t blame Charles much for snapping at him at one point, and it didn’t seem entirely right that Charles is in the wrong and apologizes with little change seen on his father’s part.

Despite that objection, I’ll still gladly watch The Man Who Invented Christmas if it comes on TV around Christmastime to enjoy its well-acted, wholesome glimpse into the mind of a great author. I’m just a little sad that there was something lacking, which will make me more likely to just watch some version of A Christmas Carol instead of the story behind it.

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
552 Followers and Counting

 

Chronesthesia (Love and Time Travel) (2016)

08 Sunday Apr 2018

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(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a poem involving mystery and magic, so I went with an idea about the magical mundane, which kind of applies to the movie too.)

 

“My life is just a gear at work, a daily push and pull;
I’m far too busy living life to find it magical.
I’m like a mule with blinders on, who only knows the road,
While fields stretch out on every side and might relieve my load.
I’d like to turn my head, but I don’t have the will or time
To care for what’s outside myself when there’s a hill to climb.”

What does it take to rouse such men from marching to their tombs,
To wake them to the magic that around their bubble looms?
A glimpse into the future or a strange phenomenon,
Or simply noticing the world and those by whom it’s drawn?
When life seems more a burden than the gift it should be, try
Roads you don’t know or say hello and see where wonders lie.
_____________________

MPAA rating: Not Rated (probably R, just for language)

Independent movies are funny things: you never know when one is going to be a pretentious bore or a down-to-earth charmer, but the charmers are always a pleasant surprise. Such is Chronesthesia, a New Zealand import that was given the name Love and Time Travel when released to other countries. It’s a film that I think should put debuting writer/director/star Hayden J. Weal on the map, proving alongside Peter Jackson and Taika Waititi that New Zealand is home to some first-rate filmmakers.

As the beginning states, chronesthesia is “a mental ability enabling awareness of one’s own future. In short, mental time travel.” Weal plays Daniel Duncombe (who at times reminded me of both Chris Pratt and Martin Freeman, strangely enough), a gloomy barista who seems none too eager to break out of his stagnant existence. He’s the sort who would rather jog alone than say a word to a stranger, keeping his earbuds in to avoid conversations. Then one day, he discovers the words “Turn Right” written on his bedroom window, followed by similarly enigmatic messages like “Alleyway” and “He misses her.” Before long, these mysterious notes lead him to meet new people and discover the unexpected connections between them.

See the source imageThat description may sound vague and generic, but it really is a story that is best experienced firsthand. Whether it’s an old man in search of someone or a young girl with a crush, everyone Dan meets helps him grow in some way, and watching him shed his taciturn cocoon was a joy to watch unfold. The biggest relationship he forms is a romance with a psychology student named Sophia (Michelle Ny), one that feels as natural as all screen romances should try to be, and she becomes a patient advocate of sympathy for those with mental illness, such as a friend of hers with schizophrenia.

Chronesthesia may hint at it strongly, but there’s very little in the way of actual science fiction here, with the time travel aspect mostly relegated to unconscious “trips” of jerkily edited flashbacks (or flashforwards). If you’re hoping for some serious sci-fi or even an explanation for Dan’s ability, you’ll be disappointed, but in this case, the time flashes are secondary to the relatable human story at work, one full of supportive empathy and improbable serendipity. The only actor I recognized was Julian Dennison, the young boy from Hunt for the Wilderpeople, but every actor does a marvelous job, particularly Weal with his gradual blossoming of humanity.See the source imageIn many ways, this is the kind of movie I just tend to like, mingling sci-fi or fantasy elements with an overarching lesson about the interconnectedness of mankind, much in the vein of fellow indie gems Shuffle and Ink. While this too is a low-budget film, it doesn’t look it, boasting lovely cinematography and a beautiful classical score as well. The script is also fraught with worthwhile themes of interpersonal connection, such as the value of listening to those in society everyone else might dismiss. Of course, there are things I could have done without, such as the unnecessary profanity, but this is a satisfying film that has only improved with time and thought, an underrated gem that deserves to be more widely known.

Best line: (Sophia) “You have no idea how much your actions affect the people around you. People have a lot more influence than they realize.”

 
Rank: List-Worthy

 
© 2018 S.G. Liput
551 Followers and Counting

 

The Breadwinner (2017)

07 Saturday Apr 2018

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(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was to write a confrontation between a personal strength and a personal weakness, so I focused on anxiety.)

 

The me of my dreams aimed a finger at me,
Displaying the courage I lacked,
And said, “What do you know you of anxiety?
Why let it control how you act?

“Why live in the fear of a stranger’s outlook
When they have no sway over you?
Are there not enough lessons in movie and book
For self-confidence to ring true?

If someone outside you could see how you hide you
And all of your faith and desires,
They’d pity your doubts and perhaps stay beside you
To prove that not all are deniers.

“Are you not aware there are people elsewhere
Who endure terror dwarfing your own,
Whose lives are at risk based on what they must wear
And feel much more truly alone?

“They know what fear is, while you worry and stall
With freedom they may never know.
Compared with them, our troubles now seem so small,
Unworthy of fear; treat them so.”
____________________

MPAA rating: PG-13

While there’s plenty to criticize the Academy for, especially in the Best Animated Feature category, the nomination of The Breadwinner was well-deserved. While it couldn’t hope to match Pixar’s all-around excellence with Coco, this is a prime example of what ought to be in the running for Best Animated Feature. Following up on their fantasy-filled The Secret of Kells and Song of the Sea, Irish animation house Cartoon Saloon (along with a collection of co-production companies) tackles a far more serious and realistic story based on a Deborah Ellis children’s novel.

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Parvana is the daughter of a former schoolteacher in Afghanistan, which is plagued by the oppressive rules of the Taliban. When her father is arrested with no charge, there is nothing Parvana, her older sister, or their mother can do, since none of them are even allowed to leave their home without the presence of a male relative. (Parvana’s little brother is too young to help.) Left with no other option, Parvana cuts her hair and masquerades as a boy in order to earn enough to support her family and perhaps even save her father from prison.

While Cartoon Saloon’s previous films were set in Ireland with an art style that echoed the swirly motifs true to that country, it’s amazing how well the style translates to the Arab setting in The Breadwinner. It’s nice to see that a studio outside Japan is sticking with traditional hand-drawn animation, long after American films abandoned it in favor of CGI.

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I love animation that tackles serious subjects, and The Breadwinner is all too timely, reminding us that, even with all the female outcry in America, there is far greater injustice elsewhere in the world. The extremes of Sharia law are depicted with restrained cruelty, giving viewers every reason to care about Parvana and her beleaguered family. Certain moments of light and sympathy shine brighter for the darkness around them.

Despite the compelling narrative, an on-going and seemingly unrelated tale that Parvana tells throughout the film feels more like overly ornate padding than an integral part of the story, and the ending is more open-ended than I would have liked. Yet The Breadwinner is clearly Best Animated Feature material, with beautifully detailed animation, foreign characters that are still easy to empathize with, and a genuinely harrowing climax. I’m tempted to call Cartoon Saloon the Studio Ghibli of Ireland, but I think they’re carving their own praiseworthy niche and doing it quite well.

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Best line: (Parvana) “Raise your words, not your voice. It is rain that makes the flowers grow, not thunder.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
550 Followers and Counting

 

Fits and Starts (2017)

06 Friday Apr 2018

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(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was to experiment with line breaks, so I incorporated long and short lines in a poem more about writer’s block than about this movie.)

 

Inspiration grows, composed through joys and woes in verse and prose;
From lows, it rose, and now it flows as dominoes fall unopposed,
But then
It froze.

I’m blank,
I fear,
As tears
Appear.
What if this fog
‘Twixt my ears
Won’t clear
For years,
My writing gears
Caught in arrears.
Goodbye, career
And world premieres!
How can I ever
Persevere?

My knack’s off track; in fact, my lack of active tact deserves a smack.
To lose my muse eschews breakthroughs. What gruesome news!
Oh, wait,
It’s back!
____________________

MPAA rating: Not Rated (should be R)

As this selection from last year’s South by Southwest illustrates, I think comedies that come from film festivals are obligated to be described as quirky. Quirky can range from sweetly unusual to downright bizarre, but Fits and Starts hits a good balance between the two and focuses on themes that any aspiring writer (like me) should relate to with amusement.

The film’s aspiring writer is David Warwik (Wyatt Cenac), a former professor who remains deeply unconfident in his unpublished novel while his wife Jennifer (Greta Lee) rakes in acclaim with her second book release. Despite David’s objections, Jennifer insists they go to her publisher’s salon, a social party of creatives and publishing people, both amateur and professional, yet circumstances force David to go by himself and meet every funny and weird cliché of the artistic elite.

David himself seems odd at first, neurotic and prone to putting his foot in his mouth, yet I could still relate to his desire to just write, without “playing the game,” all the networking and schmoozing that it apparently takes to get published. His jealousy toward Jennifer’s success brought to my mind Chevy Chase in 1988’s Funny Farm, another movie where the writer husband is overshadowed by his wife. Cenac and Lee have surprisingly good chemistry too, able to launch equally defensible accusations at each other while arguing yet also becoming a cute couple when things blow over.

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By the time David gets to the salon and interacts with all the upper-crust crazies, it’s easy to connect with him as the only normal person in the room. I’ll admit I laughed more than I expected to at the insightful caricatures he encounters, like the critic telling him he needs to change his name to something metallic or the creatives discussing ridiculous ideas like they’ve discovered the next great gift to humanity. Some humor also comes from a pair of sarcastic policemen and a multitalented opera singer, but beyond the mere jokes, there’s also worthwhile satire with a point, from the liberal shallowness of the art world to how David can’t get a straight answer from a publisher who clearly didn’t like his novel.

Unfortunately, there’s also some mature content, between the foul language (not as frequent as The Big Sick, though), an obscene drawing, and some nudity, largely from the back or from a distance. I could have done without those, but I still enjoyed Fits and Starts for its satire and its ultimately gratifying depiction of David and Jennifer’s marriage. I especially enjoyed how David’s frustrations eventually boil over into one big renunciation of the absurdities he’s endured at the party, choosing instead to value his wife and his love of literature over the others’ superficiality. As the name might imply, the quirkiness of Fits and Starts doesn’t always hit the mark, but it hit many of the right places for me.

Best line: (guy at party, as David overhears nearby) “You know, I’m thinking of moving to Detroit.”
(girl) “My friend Jeremiah moved to Detroit, and he got shot in the face.”
(guy) “Oh, my god. Jeremiah Boobar?”
(girl) “Yes, two weeks ago, he moved to Detroit and got shot in the face.”
(guy) “Did you go to the funeral?”
(girl) “No. Funeral? He’s alive and kicking. He’s gonna make a documentary about it, you know.”
(guy) “Where did he get the funding?”
(girl) “Indiegogo.”
(guy, after a pause) “I want to get shot in the face.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
550 Followers and Counting

 

Munyurangabo (2007)

05 Thursday Apr 2018

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(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was to find a poem in a foreign language, pretend it is about a chosen image, and write our own “translation.” I chose the picture above, a still from this foreign-language film, and tried to base my poem off of the beginning lines of the Xhosa-language poem “The Cattle Killing,” which you can find here. Hopefully, it turned out all right.)

 

Let it stir up,
Let it stir up
Yellowing wakenings of dreams once real—
Friendships’ longevity will fade
Away,
Disappearing with every word
Unspoken or cankered
By lies, downturned eyes, and fears that won’t fade.
I remember us, we two,
Uncankered, unafraid, arm in arm,
Before our brotherhood’s ebbing
When our fears did rise
And our eyes turned down.
As I see you again in my regrets, I wonder,
Would we still be arm in arm
If I had raised my eyes?
___________________________

MPAA rating: Not Rated (little objectionable, but I guess PG-13)

Munyurangabo has sat for so long in my Netflix queue that I can’t even remember where I first heard of it or what I was expecting from it. One thing is certain, though: this is a critic movie, the kind that critics fawn over while regular viewers say things like “It was all right, I guess,” if they even have the patience to finish it at all. It’s not an off-putting disaster like the last critic movie I saw (The Assassin, seriously one of the most grueling films I’ve sat through), but it’s hardly a film I’d watch again, even with some positive elements toward the end.

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While it was filmed in Rwanda as the first movie in the Kinyarwanda language, it was actually directed by American Isaac Lee Chung, who employed local Rwandans as amateur actors. In the film, Munyurangabo (Jeff Rutagengwa), or Ngabo for short, is a teenager traveling with his friend Sangwa (Eric Ndorunkundiye) as they journey to kill someone. On the way, they stop over at the house of Sangwa’s parents, whom he had left to move to the capital of Kigali. While revisiting friends and family, the pair find welcome, resentment, and a reminder that the two of them are each from enemy tribes.

As is common in critic movies, the story of Munyurangabo seems extremely padded to fill out its 97-minute runtime. There are long stretches of the two boys just walking together as the camera follows them from behind. The cinematography is mediocre, to me at least, and the shakiness of the camera adds both intended realism and an amateurish quality. The untrained actors themselves do all right, though there are times their lack of experience shows a bit.

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I had just about decided that this film had very little worthwhile about it when a random stranger (apparently Ugandan poet laureate Edouard Uwayo) suddenly launched into an extended poetry recitation, which might have seemed out of place if it didn’t encapsulate so eloquently the movie’s themes, much better than the rest of the film tries. As an ode to the struggles of the Rwandan nation, it’s a moving one-take scene, practically a psalm, that has little to do with the story and yet everything to do with its larger context. The moral resolution that follows also conveys the value of forgiveness in this war-torn country, even if it doesn’t really address the plight of one of the boys. In short, the last fifteen minutes of Munyurangabo resonate while the rest is dull, so you might be better off just watching the poem scene and leaving the remainder for the critics.

Best line: (part of the poem recitation) “Give the child what he needs, and he can become a king…. The rich one can prepare a gift to give to the poorest one, and how poor is he?”

 

Rank: Honorable Mention

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
550 Followers and Counting

 

Wonderstruck (2017)

04 Wednesday Apr 2018

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(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was to describe an abstract concept in terms of more concrete words, so I picked the obvious choice for this film, namely wonder.)

 

Wonder is a pair of eyes
Wide and twice their normal size,
Rising in an optic smile
In case the mouth can’t do likewise,
Hanging open in surprise,
Not caring if it hangs awhile.

Wonder is in aeroplanes
Thrilling 1903 brains,
Moving pictures scaring crowds
Who flinched at filmed approaching trains,
And computers making gains
That no one dreamed, at least out loud.

Wonder is in works of art
Seen before they’re known by heart,
Creatures people rarely find,
The goosebumps of a ball game’s start,
Zoos, museums that impart
Their awe, and firsts of every kind.

Wonder is a city block
New, once-sheltered tourists walk,
High skyscrapers tilting heads.
It’s found in mountaintops of rock,
In galaxy and swooping hawk;
There wonder weaves its welcome threads.
_______________________

MPAA rating: PG

Did anyone else notice the preponderance of 2017 movies with “wonder” in the title? We had Wonderstruck, Wonder Woman, its biopic cousin Professor Marston and the Wonder Women, Woody Allen’s Wonder Wheel, and the inspirational Wonder with Jacob Tremblay. Amazon Studios’ Wonderstruck may have gotten lost amid all the others, but it’s the one that most strives for the actual “wonder” in its name.

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I say “strive” because it doesn’t quite reach it, though I can certainly appreciate the effort. Based on a Brian Selznick novel, the story is something of a double period piece, with two stories playing out fifty years apart. In 1977, an orphaned boy named Ben (Oakes Fegley, just as genuine and in need of a haircut as in Pete’s Dragon) suffers an accident but manages to sneak off to New York City in search of his mysterious father. Parallel to Ben’s quest is that of young Rose (Millicent Simmonds of A Quiet Place, who is actually hearing impaired), a deaf girl in 1927 who also searches New York for her mother. Each story nails the visual aesthetic of its time period, with Ben’s yellow-tinted settings, music, and surrounding fashions screaming ‘70s, while Rose’s experiences are like The Artist, all in black-and-white and silent to reflect both her deafness and the silent films she loves.

I will applaud Wonderstruck for its gentleness and commitment to remaining family-friendly when such films are rare these days. Its stylistic choices and excellent acting also add to its appeal, while the editing between the two stories can be a little too frequent at times. I suppose my main complaint is it tries too hard to inject “wonder” and mystery in a way that feels like padding by the end. Just like with Hugo, another Selznick adaptation, so much time and interest are spent on the mystery that its sort of a letdown when you find out it’s something that could have been told within minutes, making me wonder why certain characters are so cryptic. At one point, a character waits to reveal the truth until she takes Ben across town, even as he restlessly wants to get to the point, not unlike me.

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Ultimately, Wonderstruck is a curiosity, with a palpable love for museums and storytelling and a touching ending, and like Hugo, the passion on display goes a long way to keeping viewers engaged, though the visuals can’t match Scorsese’s film. It’s nice to see that a quality live-action family film can still get made, even if it’s not quite as fascinating as it means to be.

 

Rank: Honorable Mention

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
549 Followers and Counting

 

Marjorie Prime (2017)

02 Monday Apr 2018

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(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a poem that plays with voice and the first-person “I.” Based on this film’s premise, below is a soliloquy of a ghost addressing his former living self.)

 

I don’t know
If I’m still you,
The same as you once were.
What you went through,
What I’ve been through
Has left my mind unsure.

I can tell
From those you knew
That I was well thought of,
And if I’m you,
The former you,
I too return their love.

You might ask
Why would I stay
When you, alas, could not.
To your dismay,
I came one day
To take your vacant slot.

I suppose
I’m still part of
This world and wish relief
For those you loved.
For those I love
Should not be left in grief.
_____________________

MPAA rating: PG-13

It may seem that I complain a lot about how slow artsy films can be, so eager to be avant-garde and critically studied that they forget to entertain. Yet Marjorie Prime is proof that I can still appreciate a slow and quiet movie with the right combination of acting and script. This is a prime example (get it?) of a Triple A movie (where it’s All About the Acting) and of low-key speculative fiction; there are no jaw-dropping effects or mind-bending visuals, just three or four people talking in a room and providing a very plausible vision of the future.

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At home at her seaside beach house, Marjorie (Lois Smith, who I know best as Helen Hunt’s aunt in Twister) is an elderly widow around the year 2050, who comes out to her living room to have a conversation with her husband Walter (Jon Hamm). However, he’s not her husband but a Prime of him, a holographic re-creation of Walter in his forties, designed to keep her company and help cope with her worsening Alzheimer’s. Both Marjorie and her son-in-law Jon (Tim Robbins) tell Walter Prime about the Walter they knew, and their memories help form his personality. “I’ll remember that now,” he says with every new piece of information. As you might expect, the idea of Primes doesn’t please everyone, specifically Marjorie’s anxious daughter Tess (Geena Davis), yet the realism grows with time, especially with the way Walter Prime assimilates and repeats the stories he’s been told. When he tells Marjorie of things she has since forgotten, who’s to say it’s not as genuine as the original memory?

Based on a Pulitzer-nominated play by Jordan Harrison, Marjorie Prime is full of moving subtlety in the areas of technology and memory, with a script worthy of an Oscar nomination, in my opinion. Those with little patience will likely be bored to tears, but if your mind is engaged, there’s plenty of existential meat to chew here, from the hidden family tragedy of Marjorie’s past to the way technology is depicted as neither good nor bad but simply an inevitability. In a world where people are already inviting primitive A.I.’s into their homes, it’s oddly conceivable to envision such artificial companions cushioned in the guise of a loved one. Whether that excites or disturbs you may vary, but the film is sensitive and honest in that regard and quite credible too in the way Primes are shown to develop with more information, serving as both a comfort and a painful reminder. I also liked smaller examples of their use, such as enabling future generations to “meet” their ancestors, or at least an indistinguishably close approximation of them.

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The film does morph a bit from its starting point, tragically so in fact, yet there are three phenomenal performances at its heart. Lois Smith, Tim Robbins, and Geena Davis prove what outstanding actors they are, and I’m glad Smith in particular was able to step out from her usual side roles to portray the title character, reprising her role from the stage version. Memory and unspoken emotion hang over every conversation with a Prime, making them lump-in-throat encounters that stayed with me long after the credits had rolled. Perhaps the setting can get monotonous and the artsiness of a few interim scenes drags a bit, but the familial anguish and philosophical questions posed were both restrained and deeply compelling. This is the quiet side of science fiction, but for me, it’s one more reason to love the genre.

Best line: (Marjorie) “Well, the future will be here soon enough. You might as well be friendly with it.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
548 Followers and Counting

 

The Greatest Showman (2017)

01 Sunday Apr 2018

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(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a poem about a secret shame or secret pleasure, and this recent film’s subject seemed to fit the bill perfectly.)

 
I know I shouldn’t like it. It’s offensive and uncouth,
So say the few who rule opinion rather than the truth.
It’s liable to rock the boat that should be left alone
And make me think the world has wider interests than my own.

It’s odd and loud and so lowbrow that it will never be
Completely free of grievances and animosity,
And those who claim approval for a thing condemned so far
Will lose esteem as others deem them equally bizarre.

I know I shouldn’t like it, based on cruel analysis,
The kind that glares and does not care how personal joy is.
But if I say I like it, surely I won’t be alone;
There’s always some who won’t succumb to sanctions set in stone.
__________________

MPAA rating: PG

I love musicals, and I don’t really understand people who don’t. When catchy music, a compelling story, and strong performances combine, it’s sheer magic, and even one or two out of the three can still be darn entertaining. I had high hopes for The Greatest Showman, and this is one of those rare cases where a movie met and exceeded my expectations.

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The film tells the fictionalized story of P.T. Barnum (Jackman), from his humble beginnings as a tailor’s son to his romance with the well-to-do Charity Hallett (Michelle Williams) to his risky efforts to open a museum of the odd and unusual. Barnum’s ploys draw the ire of savage critics, and he endeavors to appeal to both the common man with his circus and the judgmental elite with a new right-hand man (Zac Efron) and a European opera star (Rebecca Ferguson).

I have no idea how true-to-life the film’s events are, and my guess would be probably not very. I’ve always thought of Barnum as an unabashed huckster taking advantage of people’s willingness to be fooled, and that’s certainly part of Jackman’s character. Yet he’s also depicted here as a devoted family man, and his profiting off of his circus of “freaks” also resulted in a newfound confidence and home for those who society had rejected. Jackman’s Barnum strikes a good balance between user and empowerer, and the film is wholly supportive of him and his sideshow, so engagingly in fact that its historical accuracy (or lack thereof) doesn’t detract one bit from the entertainment value.

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Having loved both Les Miserables and High School Musical, it was wonderful seeing Jackman and Efron back in musical mode, joined by Williams and Efron’s fellow Disney Channel alum Zendaya as their respective love interests. Yet as good as its stars are, The Greatest Showman soars on the strength of its music, courtesy of Broadway duo Pasek and Paul, who just won an Oscar last year for La La Land’s lyrics and a Grammy and Tony for the show Dear Evan Hansen. I’d already heard the biggest numbers “The Greatest Show” and “This Is Me” (Golden Globe winner and Oscar nominee for Best Song), but I wanted to experience the rest of the soundtrack firsthand as part of the movie. Those two are wonderful with “The Greatest Show” (uninterrupted) probably being my favorite, but the whole soundtrack is electric. I was dancing in my seat during “Come Alive” and “From Now On,” and the exuberant choreography only added to the infectious joy. I could recognize first-time director Michael Gracey’s experience with music videos, since even a barroom conversation between Jackman and Efron is given rare visual flair, though the reliance on CGI at times does crack the illusion a little.

It seems strangely fitting that The Greatest Showman’s real-life success mirrors its subject. Many critics have complained about inspirational fakery, and it currently has an inexplicable 55% on Rotten Tomatoes. Audiences, on the other hand, know a good thing when they see it, and as Barnum himself says, they don’t care if they’re being fooled when they’re happy. It’s easy to criticize something as shallow, but does it really matter if you genuinely enjoyed it? There’s such a thing as a guilty pleasure, but I feel no guilt for loving The Greatest Showman in all its inspirational, misfit-embracing, crowd-pleasing glory. It’s a wholesome spectacle I can’t wait to see again and, after the acclaim of last year’s La La Land, hopefully a sign that original movie musicals are becoming popular again. (Can someone please adapt Wicked or Hamilton now?)

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Best line: (Barnum) “Hyperbole isn’t the worst crime. Men suffer more from imagining too little than too much.”

 

Rank: Top 100-Worthy

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
547 Followers and Counting

A very Happy Easter to everyone!

 

2018 Blindspot Pick #3: Boyhood (2014)

29 Thursday Mar 2018

Posted by in Blindspot, Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

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Boyhood Review | Previous Magazine

(In honor of this film’s broad picture of growing up in the 21st century, I wrote my own version of Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t Start the Fire,” focusing on 2000 to 2015, so it’s best sung to that tune.)

George Bush, Y2K,
Google something, anime,
9/11, 7th Heaven,
Wikipedia.
Iraq invasion, Harry Potter,
Kelly Clarkson, seas are hotter,
Finding Nemo, human genome,
Poor Columbia.

Tiger Woods, Myspace,
Saddam Hussein’s hiding place,
Wicked, Darfur, Martian rover,
Lord of the Rings.
FaceBook, Amazon,
Big tsunami, Lost’s on,
Revolution in Ukraine,
Hurricane Katrina stings.

This is the world that made me
Who I am today,
And it’s still underway.
Yes, this is the world that made me;
Through each win and fail, we
All still live it daily.

Benedict and DVD,
Gay marriage, Jay-Z,
Montenegro, talk radio,
Pluto gets axed.
Merkel, Halo, Kurdistan,
Housing crisis, Iron Man,
Banks get bailed out
Like Goldman Sachs.

Bernie Madoff, Dark Knight,
Barack Obama, Twilight,
Great Recession, Avatar,
Michael Phelps, electric car,
Sully, Ahmadinejad,
Federer’s a tennis god,
Swine flu, Twitter’s new,
iPhone topples iPod.

This is the world that made me
Who I am today
And it’s still underway.
Yes, this is the world that made me;
Through each win and fail, we
All still live it daily.

Haiti quake, oil spilled,
Osama bin Laden killed,
Chile miners, Arab Spring,
Fukushima’s worrying,
Tea Party, Occupy,
Uber, Putin, floods high,
Game of Thrones and Instagram,
Sandy Hook and South Sudan.

Bad Benghazi, SpaceX,
Trayvon Martin, Netflix,
U.S. troops are withdrawn,
Bomb at Boston Marathon.
Dubstep, Taylor Swift,
Dreamers, demographic shift,
Eric Garner, Tucson,
Robin Williams too is gone.

This is the world that made me
Who I am today,
And it’s still underway.
Yes, this is the world that made me;
Through each win and fail, we
All still live it daily.

Walking Dead, ISIS,
Seven billion populace,
Ferguson, Hamilton,
Scotland stays with Britain.
Now it’s Generation Z,
Cuba gets an embassy,
“Uptown Funk,” sex slaves,
Africa’s Ebola wave.

Star Wars, Greece kaput,
Kim Jong-un’s a real nut,
Black Lives Matter, Blue Lives Matter,
All Lives Matter, now what?

This is the world that made me
Who I am today,
And it’s still underway.
Yes, this is the world that made me;
Through each win and fail, we
All still live it daily.
_____________________

MPAA rating: R (mainly for language)

With this Blindspot series, I find it interesting that I chose Boyhood the same year as last month’s Yi Yi, since they’re rather similar as epics of the mundane, weaving in themes about the nature of life itself with all of its ups and downs and dreams and frailties. Plus, they’re both close to three hours long, so maybe not the best pair for a double feature. Comparing the two, I think Yi Yi has a deeper script, but Boyhood has such an innovative craftsmanship and natural relatability that it edges out its Chinese counterpart in my mind.

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Originally to be titled 12 Years, Boyhood has the distinction of having been shot over the course of twelve years, from 2002 to 2013, and the actors literally grow older with their characters. Thus, instead of different actors playing the same character at different ages, we get to see young Ellar Coltrane as Mason Evans, Jr., as he grows up from six years old to graduating high school at eighteen. Likewise, his divorced parents (Patricia Arquette and Ethan Hawke) gain over those years the wrinkles and gray hairs that you know are not merely makeup, and his older sister (Lorelei Linklater, the director’s daughter) grows up alongside him.

Now, the obvious accusation of anyone who considers Boyhood overrated is that this technique is a mere gimmick that writer/director Richard Linklater cooked up for Oscar-baiting purposes. And I suppose you could very well see it that way. In a lesser film, I’d consider it just a marketing tool as well, yet it really works to add an extra layer of realism to the film. My mom has a picture frame that holds small photos of me from kindergarten to 12th grade, so that you can see how I aged year by year, and that’s exactly what Boyhood is. It’s not broken up into defined segments—like Age 7, Age 10, Age 13, etc.—instead, we notice the differences gradually, not unlike real life, such as the changes in Mason’s hair length and the moment when you realize his voice is suddenly deeper.

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Being just a few years older than Coltrane, I also was able to directly identify with growing up in the same time period he does, and Linklater includes a wealth of little details that indicate the approximate year. Some of them I loved and experienced myself (watching weekday afternoon anime, singing to High School Musical), while others not so much (the Harry Potter craze, political campaigning). It took foresight and up-to-date planning for Linklater to incorporate some of these elements, considering that they were filmed at the time rather than looking back in retrospect. I loved one conversation Mason has with his dad about whether they’ll ever make another Star Wars movie, since it took place in 2008 and The Force Awakens wasn’t released until the year after Boyhood.

While these specifics serve to date Boyhood, they only add to its cinematic significance. It’s a literal snapshot of a time and place, just like Saturday Night Fever was for the 1970s, and when future generations wonder what it was like to live in the early 2000s, I suspect Boyhood is where they will go. Even the soundtrack is chosen well to reflect the times, ranging from Coldplay’s “Yellow” to Family of the Year’s “Hero,” along with some selections from Mason’s parents’ era too.

I’ll admit that not everything was relatable for me personally, despite how closely my and Mason’s ages matched. I’m one of those weird people who never did the whole teenager bit of staying out late and drinking underage and smoking pot and exaggerating to friends about sexual conquests, which I guess is a “normal” phase based on how Mason’s mom reacts to some of it. Yet I still saw aspects of my own boyhood in his, like when your parents urge you to finish chores or when you reach that age when adults complain you’re mumbling too much or when, without an active smile, your face looks gloomy and bored by default. Why does that happen anyway? I could also relate to his uncertainty regarding college and the future, since I’ve still got some now and I doubt that’s something anyone fully outgrows.

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I was concerned at times that Mason seemed too much like a blank slate, a shallow placeholder while life happened around him, from nasty stepdads to unwelcome moves. Yet a personality of his own does emerge as he gets older, including an interest in photography and a growing distrust of “the system.” Despite his unwise moments in high school, there’s a sense of definite maturing, even down to a small later scene where he opts for water rather than beer, and that applies also to his wayward father, who suggests that the responsibility so many lack is simply something you grow into, if only others can be patient enough. Many of the adults in Mason’s life offer sympathetic wisdom and counsel, which he often seems to shrug off as judgmental nagging, but they’re words I feel he’d look back on with better understanding in the future.

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I’ve yet to see Birdman, but I find it hard to believe that it was a more deserving Best Picture than Boyhood, which manages to balance its ambitious scope with rare personal insight. It’s quite long yet best seen in one sitting (maybe two), so it’s not a film I’d watch often, but I do think it deserves every bit of its critical praise. Full of simple conversations both awkward and profound, it offers a poignant and down-to-earth picture of growing up, as well as the price paid by parents who are no more sure of their path in life than the children they endeavor to raise; Arquette’s final scene is particularly moving in that regard and likely won her her Best Supporting Actress Oscar. I’m torn on how to rank Boyhood, but it’s a monument of a film that proves how a “gimmick” can be art when done right.

Best line: (Nicole, a new friend) “You know how everyone’s always saying ‘seize the moment’? I don’t know, I’m kinda thinking it’s the other way around. You know, like the moment seizes us.” (Mason) “Yeah. Yeah, I know. It’s constant –the moment. It’s just… It’s like it’s always right now, you know?”

Rank: List-Worthy

© 2018 S.G. Liput
543 Followers and Counting

Death Note (2017)

18 Sunday Mar 2018

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I sit here with my pen prepared
To dish out justice undeclared,
And when I write, no one is spared,
For who’s more right than I?
Most secret of dictatorships
With death upon my fingertips,
I munch upon potato chips
And choose who’s next to die.

They’ll fear the killer none can see
And puzzle at the mystery,
Not knowing it was always me
Who hands out just rewards.
Repaying vengeance now is mine;
The world will bend by my design.
How wise the man who wrote the line
That pens kill more than swords!
___________________

MPAA rating: R (for brief graphic violence and frequent language)

I’ve been nervous about checking out Netflix’s live-action Death Note movie, especially based on the reviews I’d read. Movie adaptations of anime have about the same track record as those based on video games, yet I really hoped that Netflix’s Death Note movie would be the one to break the mold. (I know it was originally a manga, but I mainly know the anime.) Its story has all the ingredients of a great psychological thriller, a battle of wills between a megalomaniacal teen with a killer notebook and a genius detective intent on bringing him to justice. I was never that invested in Ghost in the Shell or Dragonball and thus didn’t much care when their American versions flopped, but I am a definite fan of the Death Note anime. That’s why the recent American adaptation was such a disappointment, even as I saw traces of the good movie it almost was.

I suppose I’ll address the casting controversy first, allegations of whitewashing that I honestly don’t get. An American version has every right to be set in America, and moving the story from Japan to Seattle makes casting white actors perfectly reasonable. Japan does the same thing, even when it goes against the source material; just look at the all-Japanese casts of Attack on Titan or Fullmetal Alchemist, both of which are supposed to have European settings and characters, for the most part. Casting good actors should take precedence, which is why I also don’t mind Keith Stanfield as a black version of L, since he at least acts closer to the original character than the other actors.

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As that last statement implies, Death Note misses the mark most, not as a film in general, but as an adaptation. It may seem like a strange comparison, but it’s a lot like last year’s live-action Beauty and the Beast; they both could be reasonably fine movies if they weren’t entirely overshadowed by exceptionally better animated originals. The basics are there. Formerly named Light Yagami, Light Turner (Nat Wolff) is a gifted but resentful high school student who finds the mysterious Death Note, which claims to kill anyone whose name is written in it, usually by an unexplained heart attack unless a different method is specified. Goaded by a demonic death god named Ryuk (Willem Dafoe) and believing he can right all the wrongs of the world and become godlike, Light sets out to rid the world of criminals as the killer called Kira but runs into conflict with the eccentric detective known only as L.

Those are the basics, and the film follows them and asks similar moral questions of how one might use power over life and death. Yet there’s so much changed as well, from minor details to entire character arcs, and the changes are generally for the worse. Light and L start off close to their animated counterparts but end up with vastly different goals and mindsets. As I said Stanfield is appropriately weird and intense as L, though he’s shaken (by events that didn’t happen in the anime) to act with uncharacteristic rage at one point. Likewise, Wolff has a good sense of normalcy about him, making him unlikely to be suspected as Kira, but he also overacts on occasion, like the epic meltdown he has upon meeting Ryuk for the first time. He comes off as intelligent and crafty but hardly the self-assured genius from the anime; that Light went to painstaking lengths to avoid detection by anyone, while this Light brings the Death Note to school and uses it to show off to a girl named Mia (Margaret Qualley). This Mia (formerly Misa in the source material) is the biggest change of all; instead of being an airheaded Kira groupie with a Death Note of her own, she becomes a driving force for Light’s crimes and even tries to outsmart him, which is actually a more interesting direction for her character. The best direct translation to live-action is oddly enough the CGI one; Dafoe is perfectly cast as the sinister Ryuk, employing his Green Goblin voice with relish.

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In addition to all the character changes, the plot spins along trying to carve its own path while muddling its story. The Death Note in the anime did have a lot of rules as to its various uses, but the film loads on more to confusing effect and even seems to break a few. For example, people whose names are written in the note can be controlled for two days prior to their death, and Light tries to use this detail by writing someone with a single-word name, which I always assumed was fake. If he can do that, why not do it with L? The ending is actually pretty thrilling and finally reveals the depths of Light’s Sherlockian foresight and cleverness, but it also exaggerates the note’s abilities to the point of seemingly predicting the future rather than just controlling people.

As one last complaint, I also was disappointed that it had to be R-rated, likely thanks to director Adam Winguard’s reputation for horror. I enjoyed the anime because it gradually developed as a dark and compelling narrative, and did so without a single F-word or graphic decapitation. It was proof that you can explore dark material without going to extremes for extreme’s sake, something I wish Hollywood and Netflix would have learned. Oh, and what was with the soundtrack? Some of the songs were complementary, but others clashed really strangely, like playing Air Supply over the ending scenes.

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By the end, it seems open for a sequel, yet certain characters know things they shouldn’t and there’s no easy way to see how the story could continue in any direction that remotely resembles the original. There are traces of brilliance in the climax and in the confrontations between Light and L, yet I would much sooner recommend the anime over this misguided adaptation. Actually, I wish Netflix would take a real chance and make a movie out of Death Note: The Musical, courtesy of composer Frank Wildhorn, who is apparently popular enough in Japan that he was asked to musicalize Death Note. It’s actually quite good, and you can find it on YouTube, like here. I’ll just have to wait a little longer for that really good live-action anime adaptation (Your Name maybe) because sadly this isn’t it.

Best line: (L, to Light) “You’re the one who flew into the sun; I’m just here to make sure you burn!”

 

Rank: Dishonorable Mention

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput

540 Followers and Counting

 

For those familiar with Death Note, here’s a little parody video combining it with The Fairly OddParents that cracked me up, since they changed Light’s last name to Turner.