Tag Archives: Drama

Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015)

27 Sunday Dec 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

, ,

 

I recall the feeling still,
The fascination and the thrill
Of seeing something fresh and new,
Of satisfaction sown with skill.
I remember it; don’t you?

Over time, the feeling’s stayed.
The prize is praised; the piper’s paid,
And yet I wait for even more,
For further fun that will not fade,
Another epic to explore.

Waiting is rewarded, yes,
And yet I feel I must confess
I doubt if ever it will be
That future favorites and success
Will bear the same delight for me.
________________________

MPAA rating: PG-13

 

At last, I’ve seen the biggest movie of the year, combining two of my favorite things, Star Wars and J.J. Abrams’ directorial talent. Ever since I heard Abrams would direct the next entry in the Star Wars canon, I knew he was the right guy for the job. Lost is phenomenal, his Star Trek reboots were sheer fun, and he has a special talent for both visual storytelling and character-building. Here, he brings it all to George Lucas’s beloved space opera franchise, the continuation of the story last visited on film in 1983’s Return of the Jedi, the film that has been endlessly marketed and hyped for over a year now, and…I’m left divided.

Some spoiler-free reviews I’ve read have been the “oh-my-gosh-this-movie-is-just-so-great-and-wonderful-I-could-burst” type, but most seem to be the “this-is-a-really-good-movie-but…” kind of opinions. I wanted it to be the former, but sure enough, it’s the latter for me. Time to think it over has only deepened my ambivalence. On the other hand, my mom (with whom I saw it) has grown more displeased with it. She saw the original Star Wars in the theater eight-and-a-half times and, based on the reviews, had high hopes, which weren’t exactly dashed but at least unfulfilled.

Let me try to explain my feelings about Star Wars: Episode VII. I won’t get into specifics, but I’ll probably go into more detail than some reviews, so a warning for those like me who have tried to remain spoiler-free. First, the Light Side. Like so many critics have said, The Force Awakens does feel like the original trilogy, a little less polished than the prequels and with far more humor and natural dialogue. Abrams’ talent with ensembles comes through, balancing both the new characters and old with fresh concepts and proper nostalgia. Harrison Ford as Han Solo, Carrie Fisher as Leia, Peter Mayhew as the apparently ageless Chewbacca, and (barely) Mark Hamill as Luke Skywalker all make triumphant returns, and despite the thirty-two-year hiatus, it feels as if they never left. Of the new cast, Daisy Ridley’s heartfelt Rey and John Boyega’s excitable Finn are the standouts, dropping hints at guessable but unconfirmed backstories that will surely play a larger part in the inevitable sequels. The backstory we do get is that of Kylo Ren, the Darth Vader wannabe whose conflicted allegiance to the Dark Side keeps him interesting, even as the other villains are given little to do. While many have complained about the underuse of various actors, the most overlooked to me seemed to be Gwendoline Christie as Stormtrooper Captain Phasma; like in Mockingjay – Part 2, Christie oddly lands a role in a big-budget blockbuster and then has hardly any screen time. Those secondary players who do get screen time make the most of it, including Oscar Isaac’s daring pilot Poe Dameron and, of course, the cute beachball droid BB-8. I also enjoyed seeing Ken Leung (Miles from Lost) as a Resistance admiral, a token actor from Abrams’ past work.

There, I liked it, right? But then, the Dark Side makes itself felt. For one thing, it’s sad that, within thirty years, the galaxy is right back in the middle of tyrant-battling war, with the Republic barely present. In addition, with the exception of Episode III, which everyone knew would be dark and tragic, all the Star Wars movies end with a thrill, whether it be a smile of success or an urge to learn what’s next. While both types of thrill are attempted, they are overshadowed by a climactic blow to the childhood that hit my mom especially hard. When the credits had finished, we didn’t leave the theater reveling in the glow of a great movie; we left in silence, trying to digest what J.J. Abrams had done. It makes for potent drama, but it stings nonetheless.

In addition, the story itself becomes weak in its attempt to pay homage to the original Star Wars. Plot elements are recycled a bit too often, and the originality suffers. There’s a wanted droid with important hidden information; there’s a cantina full of exotic aliens; there’s a desert planet (Jakku, not Tatooine); there’s a planet-destroying weapon; there’s a black-masked villain reporting to a holographic uber-villain (head of the First Order, not the Empire); there’s a Jedi apprentice turning against his master; there’s a close shave with a tentacled creature; there’s the difficult scene I mentioned that recalls Darth Vader’s run-in with Ben Kenobi; and there’s a mission to blow up the enemy base, which is even cooler and less simple than the Death Star’s destruction. There’s also a deleted star system, a la Attack of the Clones. For all their faults, the prequels always presented something new, even if the new didn’t please fans. In trying to appeal to everyone’s nostalgia for the original trilogy, the writers made the story far too similar. I wonder if Episode VIII will feel like The Empire Strikes Back.

At this point, I can’t tell if I’m trying to be honest or overly critical. It’s still a fantastic action-packed movie, the one we’ve been waiting for for decades. Despite the overly familiar plot points, I love everything original in The Force Awakens, from the new protagonists to the impeccable visual effects and awesome action. I still can’t decide where it ranks next to the prequels (I like them; sue me), but it’s certainly worthy of the Star Wars name. My mom and I will still see it many more times, and our admiration will surely improve. (She didn’t like Forrest Gump the first time either, and now it’s a family favorite.) I doubt The Force Awakens will ever have the same appeal as the original trilogy, but just as I grew up with the prequels, this is the Star Wars of the next generation.

Best line: (Han, about the enemy weapon) “How do we blow it up? There’s always a way to do that.”

 

Rank: List-Worthy

 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

352 Followers and Counting

 

VC Pick: The Christmas Card (2006)

24 Thursday Dec 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , ,

 

You speak a word or you write a card,
And think perhaps that they have no effect,
The same clichés by triteness marred
That lead to an “Aww,” then most likely neglect.

But none can know where their kindness ends
And where a larger design can begin,
Where welcomed strangers grow into friends
And holiday spirit makes room at the inn.

You might send a hundred clichés someone’s way.
A heartfelt word may brighten more than their day.
____________________

MPAA rating: Not Rated (definitely G)

 

I’m sorry I’m getting into the Christmas spirit a little late this year. I thought about compiling a top Christmas movie list, but it would be the same old popular favorites for the most part (A Christmas Story, Home Alone, etc.). Instead, I decided to turn over the holiday reins to my VC, who is fond of this little Hallmark movie that I gave her as a Christmas gift a couple years back.

While it’s perfect for the holidays, The Christmas Card is far from the best Hallmark has to offer. It starts out in Afghanistan, where Sgt. Cody Cullen (John Newton) receives an encouraging Christmas card from a woman out west. When a comrade is killed in action and Cody visits his widow on leave, it turns out that she lives conveniently in the same town as the woman who sent him the card. That would be Faith Spelman (Alice Evans), who conveniently has the same tastes as he does and attends the same church he visits. Conveniently, she has a father (Ed Asner) who takes an instant liking to the handsome soldier and would like nothing more than to fix him up with his daughter. Then, of course, there’s her jealous fiancé and split affections and, well, you see where this is going. While the plot is wholly predictable romantic novel stuff, it’s still rather sweet and enjoyable, though that’s largely due to the scenery.

The Christmas Card always fills my VC with drooling envy, thanks to its setting. The Spelmans live in the quaint mountain town of Nevada City, California, a beautiful hamlet brimming with holiday spirit and warm small-town hospitality. Not only is it the kind of town that could lure my earthquake-phobic VC to California, but the Spelman’s home looks like an HGTV dream house, a palatial but cozy log cabin with a roaring fireplace and a Christmas tree that stands above the rafters. Just looking at this snug residence is enough to put us in the Christmas spirit, perhaps to wrap in a blanket and sip hot chocolate. While the environment keeps my VC’s attention, Alice Evans keeps mine, with her sweatered loveliness and charm holding the affections of two jealous men, though I’m surprised half the town isn’t after her. It’s also cool to recognize her as the younger Eloise Hawking on Lost.

The Christmas Card is nothing deep. John Newton is particularly wooden as the stoic veteran, and neither the acting nor the script is great, though Ed Asner did get an Emmy nomination for his role as the buoyant matchmaker father. While its technical merit is low, it nevertheless rings with Christmas warmth and generosity and brings attention to the soldiers who are away from their families during the holidays. There are better Christmas movies out there, but we keep coming back to The Christmas Card. Merry Christmas to all!

Best line: (Cody, upon meeting Faith’s father Luke) “It’s a real honor to meet you, sir.”   (Luke Spelman) “Honor? I guess you haven’t caught wind of my reputation.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

352 Followers and Counting

 

Serenity (2005)

20 Sunday Dec 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

, ,

 

When we reach the distant future,
Full of ships traversing space,
What if life were not that different
With the same self-seeking race,
Governments with dark agendas,
And the sins we can’t replace?

How could anyone continue
In ideals that aren’t esteemed?
Only with a firm believing,
Truer than it ever seemed,
Can a world of lies and secrets
Be perhaps in part redeemed.
__________________

MPAA rating: PG-13

 

After my introduction to Joss Whedon’s cult classic TV show Firefly (and its inclusion on my Top Twelve TV Series list), I had to check out its big-screen conclusion Serenity, and it was a home run! In the same way that Firefly was criminally underrated when aired and was canceled after merely eleven episodes, I’ve seen Serenity in the bargain DVD bin for $3.99 when it deserves so much better. Putting all of Whedon’s considerable talent on display, Serenity offers an equally entertaining alternative to Star Wars and Star Trek.

Luckily, all of the main cast of the show returned to reprise their roles, a winning ensemble of mostly lesser-known TV actors, with the villain played by then-lesser-known Chiwetel Ejiofor. The crew of the Firefly-class spaceship Serenity aren’t freedom fighters against the imperialistic Alliance nor noble voyagers exploring the ‘verse; instead, they are simply in search of their next job, which typically entails smuggling or some other less-than-legal enterprise. Captained by hard-nosed Malcolm Reynolds (Nathan Fillion, who continues to reference the show in other roles since), Serenity includes his old war comrade Zoe (Gina Torres), her pilot husband Wash (Alan Tudyk), amusing cutthroat Jayne (Adam Baldwin), cute engineer Kaylee (Jewel Staite), and the Tam siblings Simon (Sean Maher) and River (Summer Glau), who are fugitives from the Alliance and grudgingly welcome guests aboard the ship. Also included are those who have left the ship, peaceful but secretive Shepherd Book (Ron Glass) and Mal’s unacknowledged love interest Inara (Morena Baccarin), a Companion or respectable prostitute.

With all that information and more previously established in the show, Serenity is an impressive balancing act, offering a conclusive episode for the fans hungry for more and a surprisingly accessible adventure that can still appeal to newbies. Such is Whedon’s talent with ensembles, whether it be his cult TV series or movies like The Avengers. In some ways, I might compare Serenity with Guardians of the Galaxy, another fast-paced space tale with an ensemble of potential unknowns. Like Guardians, Serenity throws out all the information viewers need to know along with ample humor and characterization and doesn’t waste time ensuring that the audience is keeping up. Instead of the pop culture references of Guardians, though, Serenity combines its sci-fi trappings with a western desperado style to craft a unique blend of East, West, and future.

Serenity also proved to be an outlet for Whedon’s creativity. Within the first fifteen minutes, there’s a dream within a holographic log and an ingenious four-and-a-half minute tracking shot that introduces us to the entire ship and crew. Likewise, the dialogue is another Whedon trademark, full of clever colloquialisms, Chinese exclamations, and so much breakneck wit that I wonder why it wasn’t nominated for Best Original Screenplay. I also admire that, despite his atheism, Whedon emphasized the presence of religion and belief in this space-faring future, something Star Trek only did with alien cultures. (No aliens here.) In the first few minutes, I even recognized a knockout gadget that Whedon reused in his Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. series.

All this fawning over it, and I’ve hardly said anything about the actual plot. Throughout the series, River had acted consistently weird due to the government’s experiments on her, and brother Simon acted as her rescuer and advocate, though there were hints that she could take care of herself. While the actual explanation and solution for her behavior don’t make total sense, the film offers insights and resolutions for many elements that the show didn’t have time to conclude: River’s actual rescue, Kaylee’s crush on Simon, the Alliance’s reasons for wanting River back so adamantly, River’s untapped talents, and the nightmarish Reavers, the bands of space maniacs as mindless as zombies and ten times as ferocious. Mal is not only caught between the Alliance’s coolly murderous Operative (Ejiofor) and an unrecognized threat on board his ship; he’s also caught in a web of right and wrong, heroism and disillusionment, cynicism and belief. This futuristic world is unforgiving and sometimes painfully harsh, but Whedon keeps a masterful balance among the dramatic, comedic, and jaw-droppingly awesome. One scene toward the end is especially stunning and practically gave me goosebumps.

If you haven’t seen Firefly and happen to have fourteen hours to burn, watch it first, but there’s so much excellence evident in Serenity that I recommend everyone see it regardless. A few aspects of the end may not be ideal, but the film as a whole is an exciting success as both a standalone film and the finale Firefly never got. Like Firefly, it’s an underrated science fiction treat.

Best line: (Mal) “Half of writing history is hiding the truth.”

 

Rank: Top 100-Worthy

 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

350 Followers and Counting

 

The Hunger Games: Mockingjay – Part 2 (2015)

17 Thursday Dec 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

, , ,

 

Children fought within the Games,
As posh patricians praised their names,
And through the safety of TV,
Let death abound for all to see.

Now death has bounded through the screen,
And at the urging of a teen,
The poor plebeians meant to lack
Have gained the courage to fight back.

When tyrannies use violent means
And worship death on TV screens,
It then should come as no surprise
In violence do the people rise.
For freedom, violence intervenes,
For can mankind learn otherwise?
________________

MPAA rating: PG-13

 

After watching the final Hunger Games film and contemplating whether I liked it or Catching Fire best, I’ve come to the conclusion that Mockingjay – Part 2 is the best installment of the series. The final chapter of any franchise is typically meant to be the grandest and most important, a rare but desirable feat that is indeed met by this last portion of Katniss Everdeen’s story.

Though I’m one of the few people not to have read the books, I’m well aware that Mockingjay is the least favored of Suzanne Collins’s trilogy, and some reviews for Mockingjay’s two film adaptations have been similarly blasé, since they say the book is better and its predecessors are better still. Yet Part 2 delivers on the setup of Part 1, trading in the previous film’s relative lack of thrills for the fast-paced intensity of the Maze Runner series.

I’ll try to be general to avoid spoilers: Katniss (ever-outstanding Jennifer Lawrence) and President Coin’s rebels aim for President Snow and the Capitol, even as the archer struggles with her split affections and Peeta’s recent brainwashing. Considering how Part 1 used Peeta’s sudden indoctrination as its climax, I was glad that it wasn’t swept away as a minor setback; instead, it becomes an ongoing risk, as well as a satisfying method of ironing out the reality among all the lies. The actual mission grows in importance as they continue, and the Hunger Games-style dangers encountered make Mockingjay – Part 2 the most intense film of the franchise, with one sequence that seemed fit for a horror movie.

Considering everything that has come before, it should be no surprise that there are many deaths along the characters’ difficult journey, and I suspect this is part of what many fans disliked. Killing off characters is most painful when it seems unfair, and such displeasing deaths can cause fans to be angrier at the storyteller than the characters responsible. (A recent example I disliked was in How to Train Your Dragon 2). Mockingjay – Part 2 has twists that aren’t exactly what fans would want or expect, but the story makes the best of them and ends up sadder but wiser, yet still fulfilling.

While the biggest complaint about Mockingjay is how it has been split into two parts for the sake of money, Part 2 actually served to vindicate that decision for me on the narrative level, at least somewhat. One hope I had for the Hobbit trilogy was that, by stretching the dwarves’ screen time, their characters would grow more familiar and not just be thirteen interchangeable companions. While Jackson failed in that regard, I felt Mockingjay succeeds. With so many new characters introduced between Parts 1 and 2, it made sense to establish some earlier on to distinguish them from the redshirts who don’t have enough screen time to leave an impression. (To use a Marvel comparison, whose death had more impact, that of Coulson, who was seen in multiple films, or that of Quicksilver, who had one?) While the decision did Part 1 no favors, it works to Part 2’s advantage.

As the capstone of The Hunger Games franchise, Mockingjay – Part 2 is both an exciting blockbuster and a dark climax for a dark series. While some elements may not satisfy, such as the resolution to the whole love-triangle friction, the majority do. The expansive cast perhaps aren’t fully utilized, but plot progression is more important than characterization at this point, since we’ve already gotten to know the important players over three films. (I was glad that Philip Seymour Hoffman’s role as Plutarch Heavensbee wasn’t much affected by his death earlier this year; his absence was only felt in one scene and was well sidestepped.) Most importantly, amid the chaotic action and sci-fi spectacle, the film reaffirms the franchise’s ultimate message. As Katniss has grown from fighting for survival to fighting for freedom or revenge, the struggle has not simply been against monosyllabic presidents but against anyone with contempt for life. It’s a theme still very much relevant today and one I hope will be ever in our favor.

Best line: (Katniss) “There are much worse games to play.”

 

Rank: List-Worthy (joining the other three in the series)

 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

349 Followers and Counting

 

The Silence of the Lambs (1991)

11 Friday Dec 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

, ,

 

Evil comes in many forms,
In the loner and the swarms,
In the wielder of the knife,
In the prober of your life.
Though it hides or means to try,
It draws your interest and your eye.

Dark are deeds we’d never do,
Yet they still are dared by few.
Justice runs to halt the spread,
But if it wins, there’s still the dread.
Evil loves to carve its notch,
But why do any choose to watch?
_________________

MPAA rating: R
After years of hearing how great it is and seeing most of Anthony Hopkins’s performance through clips, I decided to finally watch the Best Picture of 1991. The Silence of the Lambs is everything critics have praised over the years: a dark mystery, a dramatic powerhouse, a compelling character study of two opposing forces, one seeking justice and the other too demented to be fully understood. It is both Hopkins’s and Jodie Foster’s finest hours, winning both of them Academy Awards, as well as Oscars for Best Director and Best Screenplay. And it is a great film which I have little desire to see again. The Silence of the Lambs is one of those movies that I can admire without being able to fully embrace as a favorite, more due to my personal sensitivities than to any flaws on the film’s part.

It’s an ingenious setup, pitting an eager but untested FBI agent-in-training (Foster) against the memorably evil serial killer Buffalo Bill (Ted Levine) with the aid of the even more memorably evil killer Hannibal Lecter (Hopkins). Clarice Starling is a woman trying to prove herself to her superior Jack Crawford (Scott Glenn) and to save other women, who are being killed and skinned by Bill across the Midwest. Jonathan Demme’s directorial tactic of filming actors as they look directly into the camera is even more effective than in his next film Philadelphia (which perhaps served to compensate for the allegedly homophobic aspects of Silence). As Crawford or Lecter or various men stare at Clarice and by extension the audience, it feels as if she is being sized up, measured, evaluated as an asset, a threat, or a toy. It’s an uncomfortable sensation but unique and intriguing enough to constantly hold our attention and keep us and Clarice on our toes.

Of course, the most remarkable element of the film is Anthony Hopkins, who amazingly won Best Actor for only sixteen minutes of screen time. He’s unflinchingly malevolent yet unsettlingly polite, a performance so captivating that it nearly dwarfs the rest of the film (hence, Best Actor rather than Best Supporting Actor). As diabolical and conniving as Lecter is, it’s Levine’s performance as Buffalo Bill that I found deeply disturbing. While Demme used much restraint in depicting the violence, Bill’s perverse cruelty doesn’t leave the mind easily, and I’ll probably just skip his scenes whenever I attempt a rewatch. It’s a wonder Levine has been able to move on from such a vile role.

Beyond Bill’s foul obsessions, I suppose my tepid appreciation stems from the fact that The Silence of the Lambs made me consider why serial killers are so popular. I don’t mean the supernatural types like Freddy Krueger (though I don’t like them either), but the modern focus on potentially real people who commit horrendous acts. Real-life killers like Ed Gein and Ted Bundy have inspired films like Psycho and Silence of the Lambs, and serial killers are still trendy in TV shows like Dexter and Hannibal. What is it that is so compelling about these experts of violence? Most people would never dream of committing such acts, and yet we watch them or hear about them; we study their modus operandi and are fascinated.

The Silence of the Lambs offers some insight into its killers, whether it be the deductive clue-chasing of the FBI agents tracking Bill down or the dehumanizing way Bill refers to his victims as “it.” Lecter represents the enthralling, psychological aspect of these butchers, while Bill epitomizes the disgust. It’s fascinating, yet I can’t help but feel guilty and repulsed by my own fascination. The Silence of the Lambs is a masterfully disturbing thriller, but I don’t often like being disturbed. I don’t want Hannibal Lecter inside my head.

Best line: (Hannibal Lecter, with his most iconic line) “A census taker once tried to test me. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti. Sssffff.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

348 Followers and Counting

 

Rashomon (1950)

21 Saturday Nov 2015

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

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

,

 

While weather is windy and bitterly pouring,
Four stories are told when the truth needs exploring,
Four different accounts with the witnesses warring,
But no outright answer for askers imploring.
While some simply welcome whatever’s not boring,
The doubt is too heavy for easy ignoring.
Both lies and the truth can leave consciences roaring,
But everyone’s faith is in need of restoring.
_________________

MPAA rating: Not Rated (should be PG for mature themes)

 

This is a last-minute contribution to the Criterion Blogathon, hosted by Criterion Blues, Speakeasy, and Silver Screenings, in order to honor the old and new film classics selected by the Criterion Collection. After thoroughly admiring Akira Kurosawa’s epic Seven Samurai, I thought I might check out his earlier work, in this case Rashomon, the film that sparked pioneering interest in Asian cinema throughout the West. The story of Rashomon is simple yet profound, intimate yet eclectic, an art film with plenty of moral insight and a technique that has inspired everything from Western remakes (The Outrage, Hoodwinked!) to TV episodes (such as Star Trek: The Next Generation’s “A Matter of Perspective”).

Rashomon itself is an abandoned gate between Kyoto and Nara, though its name always sounds to me like a character from Digimon. The rain-drenched frame story allows a woodcutter and a priest to recount a trial they just witnessed to a surly passerby as they all take shelter beneath the decrepit Rashomon gate. The two watched as the infamous bandit Tajōmaru was tried for the murder of a samurai and the rape of his wife, and both are clearly shaken, having had their faith in humanity cast in doubt.

What follows are four stories of the fateful encounter from four different perspectives. All have the same outcome, yet none are the same. The bandit (Toshiro Mifune of Seven Samurai and other Kurosawa projects) boasts about his daring, recounting an admittedly impressive swordfight against the samurai (Masayuki Mori) after having his way with the woman (Machiko Kyō). The woman ignores any mention of a fight and casts herself as a victim of both men. The samurai may be dead, but a possessed medium explains his viewpoint with rather disturbing behavior, casting more blame on the woman than on the bandit. And then there’s the truth. Or is it? While the final tale seems to be the most plausible in spreading the guilt around, there’s still the smack of hypocrisy, and one can’t help but wonder what all four may be leaving out to suit their own point of view. Ambiguity and doubt are prevalent, yet Kurosawa doesn’t try to discount morality in general through his questioning of what really happened. The world may be full of liars, but human kindness can still have its say.

In addition to its morally debatable themes, Rashomon is also noted for its cinematography and tight editing. As commendable as these are, the film does embrace certain excesses in the way it is told. The opening scene, for example, in which the woodcutter wanders through the dense forest foliage before coming upon the crime scene, is meant to build tension and recall the silent film era, but it unfortunately drags, just one scene that stretches the audience’s patience to the edge of boredom. While much of the acting is subtle and faultless, other moments are acutely overacted, such as the crazy outbursts of two of the players and the woman’s incessant sobbing. These criticisms can doubtless be attributed to the acting conventions of the time, since this film is far from the only aged offender in that regard.

Yet despite the shortcomings of individual scenes, Rashomon is still the classic so many critics have hailed, well deserving of its honorary Academy Award five years before the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film was established. Influential in its uncertainty and thought-provoking in its divergent narrative, Rashomon helped to solidify Kurosawa as an esteemed director the world over.

Best line: (the surly peasant, defending yet impugning everyone from liars to storytellers) “I don’t mind a lie if it’s interesting.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

345 Followers and Counting

 

The Miracle Worker (1962)

15 Sunday Nov 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

, ,

Darkness in the light of day,
Silence in the loudest noise.
Close and also faraway,
Vacant at the gladdest joys,

Only feeling with the hand,
Needing, taking in the dark,
Slow to know or understand
And lacking means to try till hark!

A firmer hand arrives to guide,
A stronger arm, both cruel and kind,
To teach the words she’d been denied
And show them all love isn’t blind.
_________________

MPAA rating: the equivalent of G

True life stories are often the most inspiring, and one of the most incredible is the life of Helen Keller. Born healthy but struck deaf and blind by a childhood infection, she grew up in total darkness, knowing the world solely through touch. She had no concept of light or love or even that objects had names, and yet she grew to be an accomplished author and lecturer (and apparently introduced the Akita dog to the U.S. Who knew?). As I read her autobiography The Story of My Life, her diction and facility of language make it hard to believe that she once had no understanding of it whatsoever. Her story is and has been a true inspiration for the handicapped, and The Miracle Worker brilliantly presents her difficult early years.

Both Patty Duke and Anne Bancroft won Oscars for their surprisingly physical roles, Duke as the young Keller and Bancroft as her tenacious teacher Anne Sullivan. The film very much reflects Keller’s memoirs, focusing solely on her tumultuous childhood and initial relationship with Sullivan. Duke acts convincingly detached as she gropes her way along, oblivious to the significance of what she touches yet petulant and violent when annoyed. She grabs food from others’ plates and locks people in rooms, while her parents cite her handicaps as a good reason to tolerate her behavior. Enter Ms. Sullivan. Her history with blindness gives her a special sympathy, yet her Irish temperament puts her at odds with Helen’s surliness and her parents’ enabling. Bancroft in particular deserved her Oscar; she exhibits the patience of Job as she reins Helen in, wrestles with her just to get her to hold a spoon, and deals with the uncertainty of teaching a seemingly unteachable pupil.

Boasting a 100% on Rotten Tomatoes, The Miracle Worker depicts quite the extraordinary relationship between a student who doesn’t know how to be taught and a teacher who sees potential no one else can. After an initially overacted introduction, everyone slips into perfectly natural roles from Helen’s antagonistic father (Victor Jory) to her concerned mother (Inga Swenson), all dwarfed by the two lead performances. When that “ah-ha” moment finally arrives with the hard-won breakthrough, the celebration feels genuine and earned and meant as only the beginning of Helen’s progress. It’s interesting to note that while Patty Duke won an Oscar playing Keller, she later won an Emmy playing Ms. Sullivan, opposite Little House on the Prairie’s Melissa Gilbert. Whenever an uninformed viewer wonders who that woman on the Alabama state quarter was, The Miracle Worker will give them a new appreciation for Helen Keller and the educator who opened the world to her.

Best line: (Anne) “It’s less trouble to feel sorry for her than it is to teach her anything better.”

Rank: List-Worthy

© 2015 S. G. Liput

344 Followers and Counting

The Hundred-Foot Journey (2014)

08 Sunday Nov 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

, ,

One hundred feet can be a wall if those on either side of it
Insist the other is a foe too slow or stubborn to submit.

One hundred feet can be a window hewn by wisdom through the wall,
To let the foes perhaps perceive a new perspective to it all.

One hundred feet can be a door where friends once foes come face to face,
Where worlds combine to mix and dine, and fresh potential finds a place.

One hundred feet can be a line between suspicion and respect;
One hundred feet can separate or help two cultures to connect.
_________________

Rating: PG

There aren’t too many food-centric movies that get special advertising on the Food Network (Julie and Julia was the last I can recall), but The Hundred-Foot Journey warranted it. Produced by Steven Spielberg and Oprah Winfrey, this story of Indian restaurateurs immigrating to the world of French cuisine hits all the right flavor notes of a cinematic feast, more low-key than some blockbuster or awards contender but no less satisfying.

Not unlike Life of Pi, the film starts in India, where a food-loving family is forced to flee from civil unrest, and instead of cruising to Canada, they voyage to the lovely French highlands. Led by the unflappable Papa Kadam (Om Puri), they renovate and open their own Indian restaurant, just one hundred feet from an esteemed haute cuisine establishment with a coveted Michelin star. The transplants are immediately seen as a threat by the French restaurant’s owner Madame Mallory (Golden Globe nominee Helen Mirren), and a series of sneaky skirmishes between her and Kadam make them seemingly permanent enemies. Yet when racism rears its ugly head and Kadam’s cook son Hassan (Manish Dayal) displays his culinary talent, both Kadam and Mallory reconsider their biases for the sake of this budding star, food, and friendship.

Hassan’s development in French cuisine brought to mind Remy’s parallel journey in Pixar’s Ratatouille, another story of a culinary superstar “from the gutter,” as it were, who achieves success despite the antagonism between French cooking and his hesitant family. Like Ratatouille, the food is gorgeously rendered and treated as a silent character, whether it be the Indian dishes with curry and garam masala, the petite and elegant portions of Mallory’s Le Saule Pleureur, or the chic molecular gastronomy of Paris. All of the actors evoke a passion for food, and Puri, Dayal, and especially Mirren provide enjoyable performances that grow more endearing with time.

My VC and I both agreed that The Hundred-Foot Journey was among the best films we’ve seen lately, leading to my frustration that it didn’t receive more exposure. It thankfully earned money and reasonably favorable reviews, yet I believe it deserves far more attention. Lasse Hallström’s direction, paired with cleverly subtle special effects and succulent cinematography, made for a delightful culture-spanning watch, though it was wholly snubbed by the awards (except for Mirren’s Globe nomination). The worst thing critics could complain about was that it was predictable, but sometimes the familiar can be just as surprisingly fresh and gratifying as the food with which you grew up. So what if the awards judges can’t seem to recognize a clean, feel-good family drama? It won some stars in my book.

Best line: (Hassan, reminiscing) “Food is memories.”

Rank: List-Worthy

© 2015 S. G. Liput

342 Followers and Counting

Almost Famous (2000)

30 Friday Oct 2015

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

,

Rock and roll was on a roll,
Exciting body, heart, and soul.
They played it loud to please the crowd,
Sublimely out of all control.

These kings of cool were glad to rule,
And much too groovy to be cruel.
Their fame would rise amid the highs
And make it wise to play the fool.

Each touring band that spanned the land
Had rabid fans at their command.
The highs and lies were some disguise
From what they did not understand:
The value of what’s close at hand.
_________________

MPAA rating: R (for much language and brief nudity)

This review is a last-minute addition to Rocktober, hosted by Carly Hearts Movies, celebrating the best (or worst) in rock-and-roll cinema. Being a big fan of Cameron Crowe’s Elizabethtown, I thought it was about time to explore one of his earlier films, and Rocktober helped decide which one it would be.

Rock and roll is a hard thing to quantify. Some love any reason to bang their heads and party; some are excessively picky about how they discern good music from populist trash; and some turn their noses up at its very nature of sex and drugs. Almost Famous captures all three viewpoints and so much else that makes rock both diverting and dangerous, all through the eyes of a fifteen-year-old fan based on Crowe himself.

Young William Miller (Patrick Fugit) loves rock music to the dread of his high-strung mother, whose overprotective opinions already drove away his rebellious older sister. Though teased for being the youngest in his grade, he listens and writes and eventually gets noticed, first by Creem Magazine (thanks to music critic Lester Bangs, played by Philip Seymour Hoffman), then by Rolling Stone, and William is whisked into the radical world of the backstage rock scene. His ticket in is the up-and-coming quartet Stillwater, led by Russell Hammond (Billy Crudup) and Jeff Bebe (Jason Lee), whom he accompanies on a cross-country tour.

Though William knows and admires the music, he is still an outsider and a journalist, “the enemy” as the band nicknames him, and he is able to objectively watch the world of rock music unfold before him, much like an uninitiated viewer. In addition to his trusty notepad, he is always “taking notes with his eyes,” as Russell says, observing the inner squabbling among the bandmates, the wild lives they lead while on tour, the frequent drug-induced stupidity, and the inner workings of these “swill merchants,” who talk frankly about the chicks and then wax philosophical about the brain vs. instinct.

Yet for all the talk of the music and the fans being everything, he also experiences firsthand the dark, false side of this world, in which not even William can remain clean. Everyone seems to be pretending they’re something better than they are. Stillwater grows to enjoy William’s tagging along, but they trust that he’ll clean up their messy shenanigans when it comes time to actually write the article about them. An entourage of dedicated fangirls called the Band Aids accompany the band everywhere they go, and despite their focus on sex and drugs rather than the music, they insist they’re not just ordinary groupies. One in particular known as Penny Lane (Oscar nominee Kate Hudson) puts much effort into her enigmatic persona, sure to be the life of the party. While William sees through most of these facades, even he pretends in order to be taken seriously by Rolling Stone. As much as everyone wants to be loved, too often people are used for the sake of “lifestyle maintenance.”

All this may make Almost Famous sound overly heavy, and while its dramatic moments are perceptive, there is just as much appealing comedy, from the eccentricities of William’s backstage acquaintances to the seriocomic emergency that prompts some unexpected honesty. I especially got a kick out of William’s mother (Frances McDormand), whose increasingly worried phone calls to check up on him are priceless.

Cameron Crowe obviously knows the ins and outs of the rock scene, and despite its dark side, he found the right balance of honesty and feel-good drama, along with a classic rock soundtrack that includes five original songs by Crowe, then-wife Nancy Wilson, and Peter Frampton. With his insightful, Oscar-winning screenplay, Crowe brings to life a world of “drunken buffoons” and making something “poetic” out of it. I still prefer Elizabethtown, but Almost Famous is an entertaining inside look at “the industry of cool.”

Best line: (Russell and a hotel clerk, to William) “Your mom kind of freaked me out.”

Rank: List-Worthy

© 2015 S. G. Liput

342 Followers and Counting

VC Pick: Cousins (1989)

21 Wednesday Oct 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , ,

Her husband cheated with his wife,
The ruiners of married life,
So Larry and Maria planned
To let them suffer doubt firsthand.

A walk and talk or two or three
Let friendship flourish fluently,
And is not romance at its best
When friendship fully has progressed?

A marriage undermined by lies
Will likely lead to compromise,
But truer love is worth a chance
To lose the doubt and share a dance.
______________________

MPAA rating: PG-13

This is a film my VC adores so I couldn’t put it off any longer. Seriously, it’s in her top 50, and while I’m not as much of a fan, I do agree that Joel Schumacher’s Cousins deserves more recognition. Based on the 1975 French film Cousin Cousine, this growing romance seems to both condemn and embrace marital infidelity while balancing the heavy stuff with playful interactions among an extended Polish-French family.

At Phil and Edie Kozinski’s middle-aged wedding, all manner of quirky relatives pour in, from a pair of overly critical slobs to an old lady who thinks Edie killed her last husband by feeding him too much butter. Among the extended kith are two couples, Larry and Tish (Ted Danson and Sean Young) and Tom and Maria (William Peterson and Isabella Rossellini). Larry and Maria happen to meet while looking for their respective spouses, and what could have remained familial rapport is strengthened by the mutual belief that their spouses are cheating with each other. Hoping to “get back” at Tish and Tom, Larry and Maria take walks, break fish, and revel in the knowledge that their spouses must be seething with jealousy. Nothing happens, but that’s not to say they don’t want it to. When their marriages are further strained, propriety finally takes a back seat, and a romance born from conversation and a personal connection is able to blossom.

Marriage is very much at the forefront. The progression of Larry and Maria’s relationship plays out against the diverse spectrum of their large family, from wedding to funeral to wedding. Charming subplots provide detached vignettes that still hold an air of romance, such as Larry’s father (Lloyd Bridges) in search of love with the help of his weird grandson (Keith Coogan). Ultimately, though, Larry and Maria must face the fact that they love each other and weigh that love against the strained marriages they already have.

My VC finds this film entirely romantic and enjoys the different kinds of marriages depicted, from the wedded bliss of the older couples to Larry and Tish, who share a bohemian spirit, to Tom and Maria, whose uneasy awareness of infidelity doesn’t foster the most loving home for their daughter. My VC also loves the lesson that you’re never too old to fall in love and get married, and she admires the fact that the protagonists actually care enough about their marriage to hesitate, unlike their unfaithful spouses.

As much as I wanted to love, love, love Cousins as much as my VC, it never rose above charming in my estimation. Thanks to a clever script and their unmistakable chemistry, Danson and Rossellini do make an appealing couple, and I had no problem with their initial plan against their unfaithful spouses. It all seemed rather innocent at first, but as much as I believed they were better off with each other, it’s hard for me to fully agree with cheating on cheaters, especially when their marriages might have stabilized without the added doubt. Even so, in the end, this is a film in which we recognize who is meant for whom, and we might as well enjoy watching the characters figure it out. If you don’t focus too hard on the failed marriages, the successful romances will leave you smiling.

Best line: (Aunt Sofia, who has been talking with Larry’s strange son Mitch throughout the film) “You still want to kill people?”   (Mitch) “Nah, they’re too stupid.”

Rank: List Runner-Up

© 2015 S. G. Liput

342 Followers and Counting