(Today’s final NaPoWriMo prompt of the month was for a poem about something that happens over and over. Following the theme of this time-travel charmer, I applied that to the hypothetical potential of living life repeatedly.)
Days and weeks and months repeat,
The same in name but each one new,
But wouldn’t it be quite the treat
To start them over and redo?
When in the mood for favorite foods,
Just think back to your grandest meal,
And when your second course concludes,
You’re free for thirds whene’er you feel.
When life becomes mundane or glum,
Just jump back to your fondest thrill,
A theme park ride or concert’s thrum
Or Wordsworth-worthy daffodil.
And how sought-after to rewind
To change regrets to words unsaid,
Slips untripped and frauds declined,
And dominoes unplummeted!
The twists and weaves of life one-way
Are seldom smooth to navigate,
But wouldn’t life, upon replay,
Have less distress to complicate?
___________________
MPAA rating: R (except for 5 F-words, there’s little reason this couldn’t be PG-13)
Rachel McAdams must have a thing for time travelers. Only four years after playing the titular Time Traveler’s Wife opposite Eric Bana, she again fell in love with a man possessing inherent time-traveling abilities, this time Domhnall Gleeson, in 2013’s About Time. Whereas the first film was bittersweet drama, About Time takes its subject in a lighter rom-com direction; for instance, the time-jumping ability that was random and uncontrollable in The Time Traveler’s Wife is little more than a super-powered perk in About Time, an inherited trait for only the men in the Lake family.
When Tim Lake (Gleeson) is called into his father’s study on his twenty-first birthday to be told a family secret, I can think of many worse revelations than being told you can now travel back along your own lifetime. Being rather awkward, one of Tim’s first thoughts is to win himself a girlfriend with his newfound ability, and after a less than successful attempt with the lovely Margot Robbie, he moves to London and seeks out his soul mate. All of this is done with a delightful comedic touch that makes Tim and his eccentric family feel real and lovable, and when Mary (McAdams) comes on the scene via a winsomely literal “blind date,” it’s clear from the first moments that love is inevitable…as long as time travel doesn’t get in the way.
I can’t remember the last time I was so thoroughly charmed by a movie. Well, maybe I do; it was probably La La Land, which is a more prestigious film all around, but both of them left me smiling and touched in a way most modern films don’t anymore. The repartee and chemistry between Tim and Mary put them up there with my favorite screen couples, even apart from the time travel aspect, which often adds some comedic wish fulfillment, undoing those little gaffes we all want to live over. In addition to Gleeson and McAdams, Bill Nighy delivers both warmth and pathos as Tim’s more experienced father, and his fellow Pirates of the Caribbean bad guy, Tom Hollander (almost unrecognizable with a beard), is likably sardonic as Tim’s first London friend.
As much as I loved it, I won’t claim that About Time is without flaws, such as a poorly explained revision that Tim performs when one of his time-altering good intentions goes awry. Likewise, I’ve heard a common complaint that the film doesn’t follow its own time travel rules and pays less attention than others of its genre to continuity and the butterfly effect. Yet, even these issues that would normally annoy me (like in The Lake House) couldn’t detract from a highly enjoyable romance or its bittersweet denouement. It’s a smartly written and delightful story worth going back in time to watch all over again.
Best line: (Tim) “There’s a song by Baz Luhrmann called ‘Sunscreen.’ He says worrying about the future is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life will always be things that never crossed your worried mind.”
(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was to suggest how future archaeologists would look back on us today. I applied my movie theme to the concept and even worked in a little of the biology class I’m taking right now.)
Welcome to my lecturing on modern archaeology:
Today the ancient world before the 22nd century,
A cruder, ruder, desk-computer chapter in our history.
Just recently, our diggers found a reddish box interred in rock
And found within it simple disks that once were sold and kept in stock,
A kind of visual entertainment certain players could unlock.
Some were future sci-fi stories, which weren’t right on anything;
Some were labeled “Oscar winners,” which we’re still deciphering;
And one about pursuing ghosts was worth the price of tunneling.
As some may know, an older fossil from the Reagan-lithic zone
Had a concept similar and yet was not a perfect clone.
This proves the theory that some artists used ideas that weren’t their own.
It seems some stories were remade in efforts to indulge consumers,
Many of which found them lacking, but just why is up to rumors.
Though we can’t be sure since men evolved and lost our sense of humors.
___________________
MPAA rating: PG-13
When the latest all-female version of Ghostbusters was announced, I was never among the crowd that condemned and ranted against it. I was more in the eye-rolling crowd because remakes of classic movies always turn out well, right? Still, I decided to check it out with an open mind, and my opinion seems to match the general consensus: it’s not terrible, but it’s not great either.
Instead of a sequel, this Ghostbusters is a reboot, treating the profession of paranormal poaching as an unexplored field, as if the original never happened. After an initial haunting that’s actually much scarier than the library beginning of the first film, Erin Gilbert (Kristen Wiig) is asked to look into it, even though she has tried to distance herself from her ghost-studying past. Soon, however, she’s back into the paranormal game with her old colleague Abby (Melissa McCarthy) and the Egon-esque Jillian (Kate McKinnon). Along with a street-savvy subway worker (Leslie Jones), they team up just as an occult weirdo (Neil Casey) tries to cause the apocalypse. Good timing, eh?
I’ll start out by saying that this Ghostbusters wasn’t entirely “meh.” There were even ways I thought it offered an improved story, mainly in providing a reason for all the ghost sightings rather than the original’s relative lack of explanation. The villain is fairly forgettable, but his actions indirectly bring about the Ghostbusters themselves, who rise to the occasion to stop him. I also liked the two-faced response from the governor’s office, secretly supporting the Ghostbusters while publicly denouncing them, which I found funnier and more believable than the initial outright denial of the government in the first two films.
The biggest problem with this Ghostbusters is a problem I have with the majority of modern comedies: it simply didn’t make me laugh very much. Oh, I chuckled in spots, snickered at the occasional clever joke or recognizable reference, but shouldn’t a comedy elicit more of a reaction than that? Far too often were moments I could tell were meant to be funny but just weren’t, and part of it may stem from my natural indifference to Wiig and McCarthy. McKinnon and Jones had stronger humor than the other two, but the film’s best surprise was Chris Hemsworth’s gender-swapped role as the ditzy receptionist Kevin. While the women were focused on the ghost-hunting plot, Hemsworth provided some needed laughs and was clearly enjoying himself, even without his hammer.
Ghostbusters didn’t deserve the instant hate it got and knowingly cracks a few jokes aimed at those nasty comment sections, but I would have hoped for a stronger return for the classic franchise. Perhaps the most wasted element was the cameos of the original cast members, all of which depend solely on “hey-it’s-that-person” appeal rather than being funny or important to the plot. (Dan Aykroyd’s was probably the best, but they couldn’t come up with something better for Bill Murray?) Whereas the original two are classics, this one settles for mere entertainment and so-so CGI, though the big battle at the end has its fun moments. It may yet get a sequel itself, but if not for the original’s reputation, I doubt this film would have fostered the same fondly regarded franchise.
Best line: (Patty, when a ghost escapes on a subway train) “I guess he’s going to Queens. He’s going to be the third scariest thing on that train.”
(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a poem inspired by the art in the margins of medieval manuscripts, which, if you look it up, can be pretty darn bizarre. One popular subject I noticed was anthropomorphic animals standing up like humans, and this film immediately came to mind.)
What wonder-filled world have I wandered into,
So foreign to me and yet home to this zoo?
What strange sort of people inhabit this land,
Where hopefully eating the tourists is banned?
I’ve never seen animals walking like men,
Except for a viral show-off now and then,
But I, as a visitor, now must take care
To not let the seven-foot pig see me stare.
They fight and converse, like us humans, I guess;
Some threaten and hate, and some hate a bit less.
Now new cartoon worlds don’t appear every day.
The strangeness is fading; I think I may stay.
__________________
MPAA rating: PG-13
I don’t know why it took me so long to finally see The Boy and the Beast, considering how much I love director Mamoru Hosoda’s previous film Wolf Children. It feels both very similar to and very different from that film, but it carries the same creative touch that sets Hosoda’s films apart from Studio Ghibli or other anime.
The director seems to alternate the gender of his protagonists (a girl in The Girl Who Leapt through Time, a boy in Summer Wars, a young woman in Wolf Children), and The Boy and the Beast is much more of a male-centric story, as the name implies. After an introduction explaining how two fighting masters are preparing to face off for the rule of a parallel world of beasts, we’re introduced to Ren, a nine-year-old human who has run away from home and become deeply bitter after the death of his mother. A chance encounter with a hooded and gruff bear-faced stranger captures his curiosity, and he follows him through an alleyway portal to the beast world, a disorienting scene reminiscent of the spirit world’s emergence in Spirited Away. Though mocked, feared, and bullied in this land of walking, talking animals, Ren becomes the grudging apprentice of Kumatetsu, a warrior preparing to fight for his world’s lordship who also happens to be a juvenile ruffian. The two learn from each other, Karate Kid-style, and the mutual chips on their shoulders help them form a uniquely short-tempered bond.
Among the similarities to Wolf Children (aside from the appearance of wolf-headed background characters) is the theme of choosing where one belongs. While the earlier film made Ame and Yuki choose between life as wolves or as humans, The Boy and the Beast presents Ren with an analogous decision between the rough-and-tumble warrior life among beasts or the more scholarly and even romantic pursuits among his own kind. One of my favorite sequences is when Ren is older and connects with a female student who tutors him, a very sweet montage recalling the touching beginning of Wolf Children. Yet this film also faces the dark consequences fostered by bitterness and feelings of not belonging, which can threaten to swallow up their owner, here literalized as a soul-corrupting monster to be confronted.
Where The Boy and the Beast falters is oddly enough its key dynamic, the relationship between Ren and Kumatetsu. The way their antagonism belies deeper respect and affection is well-developed, but the constant yelling at each other becomes tiring after a while, making me wish for the far quieter tone of Wolf Children. In addition, the mythological world of the beasts remains a bit alienating at times, not helped by the long Japanese names many of them possess; the story runs a bit too long; and the big, action-packed, touching, meaningful finale may look impressive, but it only makes sense because the story says it does.
The Boy and the Beast has a lot to appreciate. I was particularly impressed by certain fluidly crafted shots, such as first-person perspectives that zoom through a scene or tracking shots that slowly extend to reveal something off-screen. The detail of the animation is beautiful, especially in that finale I mentioned, and, if you can get past the frequent yelling (which isn’t uncommon in anime), there’s an engaging tale of finding unconventional family at its core. It didn’t speak to me personally like Wolf Children did, but I can see someone else being equally as fond of it.
(The prompt for Day 7 of NaPoWriMo was to write a poem centered around luck or fortuitousness, such as finding something you didn’t know you’d lost.)
I found a lonely Lego head
That rolled out when I moved the bed,
A static smile on its face
And of his body not a trace.
What toys I’d played with in his stead—
He did not care, his smile said.
Where he was from, I could not say,
Nor what I’d used him for that day—
What worlds and exploits I’d created
Before he was decapitated,
Perhaps a knight as dragon prey
Or zombie falling to decay.
Though gone was every fellow piece,
His smile never seemed to cease.
Alone no more on outcast ground,
His hopes were met, and he was found.
His smile chides my lack of peace.
I wait, as well, for my release.
________________
MPAA rating: PG
When The Lego Movie burst on the scene in February of 2014, it’s safe to say that it surpassed expectations. Many smaller and lamer Lego animations had preceded it on television, and mediocrity seemed to be its destiny. Then lo and behold, the reviews came back positive, and directors Phil Lord and Christopher Miller, also behind Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, proved they could breathe hilarious life into the most unlikely subjects. I can’t wait to see what they do with the upcoming Han Solo spinoff.
The Lego Movie is hard to sum up because it’s a lot of things at once. At one level, it’s an ultra-fast-paced adventure about a normal nobody named Emmett (Chris Pratt), drawn into a larger world of Master Builders to thwart the evil plans of a tyrant (Will Ferrell). You know, typical hero journey stuff. Yet, at the same time, it’s an ironically self-aware multiverse of franchise crossovers, a stimulating commentary on specialness and self-invention, a critique of the extremes of both conformity and anarchy, a cornucopia of parody opportunities, and even a transcendently sweet example of the value of playtime. You know, not so typical animated stuff.
With its constantly frenetic pace designed for short attention spans, it’s not always easy to keep up, but there’s literally something for everyone to enjoy and laugh at. The characters are as diverse as they come: you’ve got instruction-following everyman Emmett, who discovers the Piece of Resistance and is suddenly labeled “the Special”; love interest Wyldstyle (Elizabeth Banks), who’s an obvious imitator of Trinity from The Matrix; Batman himself (Will Arnett), whose eccentricities are raised to jerk levels; the wizard Vitruvius (Morgan Freeman), whose prophecies are true because they rhyme; and ever-joyful Unikitty (Alison Brie) from Cloud Cuckooland, who for some reason is my favorite of the bunch. Not to mention the enormous supporting cast of foes and friends from franchises only a Lego movie could mash together.
Overall, The Lego Movie is a good amount of fun with some surprising depth for those looking past the vibrant colors and manic action. It’s not quite as funny as it tries to be or as sensational as its biggest fans treat it, but the sheer number of jokes and themes on display manage to hit more than they miss. The computer animation is unique in how it appears as stop motion, and this visual distinction heightens the sense of watching Lego creations that could actually be built if they moved with the imagination-directed smoothness of those microbots in Big Hero 6. The film’s hyperactivity would be harder to watch in larger doses (which is why my VC didn’t care for it), but the sharp social satire and brilliant cacophony of spoofs distinguish The Lego Movie as “special” among modern animated films.
Best line: (Emmett, upon being told of the villain and his evil corporation) “President Business is going to end the world? But he’s such a good guy! And Octan, they make good stuff: music, dairy products, coffee, TV shows, surveillance systems, all history books, voting machines… wait a minute!”
The land was grand when Arthur reigned,
The fields no longer scarlet-stained,
The crown no longer coveted
By lesser men who ruled the dead,
And all who saw their shining king
Would prize the sight till their deathbed.
The sword he wore pronounced him king,
Announcing it with every swing,
And even though it left his keep,
It waited till he woke from sleep.
Though Arthur’s glory now has waned,
His reputation yet runs deep.
___________________
MPAA rating: PG or R, depending on the version
For the last of my VC’s birthday picks, she chose a film very different from the others (all romances: The Lake House, The Goodbye Girl, and A Star Is Born), instead delving into the Arthurian legend brought to life in Excalibur. As is often the case, I didn’t care for this film at first but appreciated it far more upon a second viewing.
The story of King Arthur has been presented in countless different ways, from Disney’s kid-friendly The Sword in the Stone to Guy Ritchie’s action-packed King Arthur: Legend of the Sword, to be released later this year. Yet with all the partial retellings of this classic British myth, shouldn’t there always be one definitive version that others copy or draw from? Excalibur tries to be just that, and while it takes license with historical details (plate armor wasn’t used in the Dark Ages), it still comes off as the most faithful to the traditional source material, Sir Thomas Malory’s Le Morte d’Arthur and various other accounts. There’s obviously far too much for any two-hour movie to cover comprehensively, but all the most familiar elements are here: young Arthur (Nigel Terry) pulling the sword from the stone, his gathering of the Knights of the Round Table (which looks suspiciously like a giant DVD), his betrayal by Lancelot and Guenevere, and his family issues with his half-sister and their son Mordred (Robert Addie). Terry is an especially convincing Arthur, playing him both as a scrawny squire and an aging monarch, and Nicol Williamson’s Merlin brings some much-needed wit to the proceedings.
It may seem strange, but the film that Excalibur kept reminding me of was David Lynch’s Dune (another VC pick), mainly due to the serious quality of the acting and palpable adherence to source material. Plus, both served as prime outlets for many actors before they were famous: Patrick Stewart is in both films, but Excalibur also features a young Helen Mirren as Morgana Le Fay, Liam Neeson as Sir Gawain, Gabriel Byrne as Arthur’s father Uther Pendragon, and Ciarán Hinds as King Lot. In addition to the cavalcade of stars to be, Excalibur also boasts some exceptional cinematic moments, particularly when it employs the classical opera of Wagner and Orff; anytime I hear Orff’s “O Fortuna,” it brings me back to the gloried sight of Arthur and his knights riding out to battle.
For all its strengths, however, there’s a reason Excalibur didn’t appeal to me on my first watch. For one, the characters have all the depth of a children’s book of myths, and the actors play them with such Shakespearean solemnity that no one but Merlin actually has a personality. Another comparison to Dune might be warranted too, when the search for the Holy Grail verges into a Lynchian dream sequence, which manages to both be meaningful to the plot and make no sense. Not to mention, the latter half of the Arthur story is quite the downer, as Arthur degrades into a ruler not unlike King Théoden when we first meet him in The Two Towers. In addition, the R-rated cut doesn’t shy away from certain scenes of nudity and battlefield violence; the worst love/rape scene toward the beginning is made worse by the fact that the woman involved was the director’s own daughter.
Excalibur may be an inconsistent iteration of the tales of Merlin, King Arthur, and his knights, but for the most part, the lavish production design, shiny costumes, noble music, and mostly solid acting come together in grand fashion. It brings to life the glory of medieval myth and the destructive danger of men following lust and greed, and though it has its flaws, it’s the most definitive version of King Arthur I’ve seen so far.
Best line: (Merlin, upon Arthur’s final conquest as king) “Remember it well, then… this night, this great victory. So that in the years ahead, you can say, ‘I was there that night, with Arthur, the King!’ For it is the doom of men that they forget.”
VC’s best line: (Arthur) “Which is the greatest quality of knighthood? Courage? Compassion? Loyalty? Humility? What do you say, Merlin?”
(Merlin) “Hmm? Ah. Ah. Ah, the greatest. Uh, well, they blend, like the metals we mix to make a good sword.”
(Arthur) “No poetry. Just a straight answer. Which is it?”
(Merlin) “All right, then. Truth. That’s it. Yes. It must be truth above all. When a man lies, he murders some part of the world. You should know that.”
A house is not a home, it seems,
Until it houses someone’s dreams,
And even if its tenant leaves,
Some part remains beneath the eaves.
Although no new dreams now reside
Within a home unoccupied,
The traces of its owners past
Remain in spirit, left to last.
These ghosts, perhaps, I’d like to meet.
Perhaps I have upon the street.
We both have shared a home, almost,
And when I move, I’ll be the ghost.
__________________
MPAA rating: PG
In honor of Valentine’s Day and her upcoming birthday, I’ll be reviewing a VC pick each week for the next month, and The Lake House is the first in her honor. As my VC well knows, I do love a good supernatural romance, especially when its otherworldly elements set it apart from the typical romantic clichés. I found The Lake House to be one of the better members of the genre, pairing Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock again twelve years after Speed.
Based on the 2000 Korean film Il Mare, The Lake House follows Dr. Kate Forster (Bullock) and architect Alex Wyler (Reeves) as the former moves out of the titular glass home and the latter moves in. The hook is that they’re doing so two years apart, with Alex in 2004 and Kate in 2006. A mail-forwarding note that Kate leaves behind somehow ends up in Alex’s mailbox two years earlier, and the two discover that they can communicate with each other through their time-traveling letters. I personally love the idea of a pen-pal relationship spanning time itself, and even if the mailbox’s mysterious powers are never explained, the chemistry between Bullock and Reeves is just as evident here as it was in Speed, despite the fact they’re separated from each other much of the time. Also in fine form are Shohreh Aghdashloo as Kate’s doctor friend and Christopher Plummer as Alex’s father and architectural teacher who actually built the lake house.
Oddly enough, the film that kept coming to mind as I watched The Lake House was last year’s anime hit Your Name, another film where two likable characters are separated by time and tragedy and rarely get to meet face to face. Going into the similarities would require too many spoilers, but while Your Name was a better film overall, it’s worth noting the parallels to this earlier movie and the still earlier Il Mare.
While some might consider The Lake House maudlin, I thought its emotional scenes were highly effective, whether it be the inner longing of Alex’s visit to Kate before she knows of their relationship or the retrospective of Alex’s rocky bond with his father. As for the ending, I saw the “twist” coming a mile away, but the film kept me in doubt as to whether its separation romance would go the way of City of Angels (did NOT like) or Sleepless in Seattle(DID like). As my VC pointed out to me, the chemistry and anticipation of love between the two leads kept us invested in the outcome, and while it toyed with my expectations, the end at least provided the kind of old-fashioned satisfaction that too many modern romances try to avoid for some reason.
The only explanation I have that The Lake House isn’t List-Worthy stemmed from a review I read after seeing it, which pointed out the holes in its time-travel aspects. As much as I want to disregard them, I must admit it’s true; even the most basic laws of time travel are pretty much ignored. For instance, Alex plants a tree outside Kate’s apartment to surprise her, and in her time, it suddenly appears. While it’s a neat visual and a sweet gesture, that tree planted two years earlier should have always been there, such that Kate would never know it hadn’t been there before. Though my VC doesn’t mind, for reasons like this, The Lake House has gone down a tiny bit in my estimation, but it’s still a lovely and poignant romance, just one that shouldn’t really be thought of any deeper than a Shyamalan movie.
Best line: (Alex, of the lake house) “Dad knew how to build a house, not a home.”
VC’s best line: (Alex, after glimpsing Kate in 2004) “I don’t know if you remember, but we saw each other. That is, I saw you. You never told me… how beautiful you were.” (Kate) “Well, maybe you saw someone else. That was a bad hair year for me.”
Life is hard enough in order,
Each day in succession gone,
Until one day we look behind and see mistakes a plenty,
And all in twenty-twenty.
It might seem harder out of order,
Jumping years to days thought gone,
But might that give our stubborn minds a little new perspective
And make us more reflective?
Our destinies are ours to order,
Rampant chances till they’re gone,
And some forget fulfillment rests on what we each will do.
The question is, will you?
_________________
MPAA rating: PG-13
Since I’m new to this Blindspot series and a notorious procrastinator, of course I waited to the last day of the month to review my first Blindspot pick, but I surely did choose a good one to start with in Shuffle. I have my good friend MovieRob to thank for recommending this time travel puzzler after he became a big fan of independent director Kurt Kuenne. I see why, because Shuffle combines so much of what I love about the time travel genre with a unique and compelling story.
Shuffle is as lean a narrative as I’ve seen, diving right into the tale of a man displaced within his own lifetime with every scene adding something to the plot. From the first moments, Lovell Milo explains to a psychiatrist that every time he falls asleep (which is often), he awakens on a different day in his life, sometimes as an old man, sometimes as a child, or anywhere in between. It takes an exhausting toll on him, and he has no idea why it’s happening, explaining away potential plot holes with the mystery that he “just knows” certain facts about himself, such as his age at every jump in time. While he’s tempted to despair at this seemingly endless headache, different strangers at certain points urge him to “pay attention” because there’s something to learn from all this, and indeed there is.
There are a lot of touchstones or spiritual predecessors one could point to with Shuffle, and they’re a pantheon of great stories. The choppy editing and sudden shifts in place and time might recall Christopher Nolan’s Memento, though Shuffle is much easier to follow and much more rewarding. The theme of redemptive second chances brings to mind A Christmas Carol and It’s a Wonderful Life, and the time travel jumps echo the great sci-fi elements of Quantum Leap, The Time Traveler’s Wife, and the Star Trek: Voyager episode “Before and After,” where Kes periodically lives her life backwards. I also loved the fleeting moments of prayer, where Lovell pleads desperately with God for help, though in a general sense, like how Quantum Leap’s Sam Beckett recognizes that there must be a higher power directing his experiences.
One of the most impressive aspects of Shuffle is how well it was made on what was clearly a small budget. The production values are obviously limited, which is felt on occasion, but it’s often covered quite nicely. A behind-the-scenes featurette revealed that the same living room was used as an all-purpose set for most of the interior scenes, but I couldn’t tell at all. Unlike so many small-budget films, the acting and script are also above average, with special attention to revealing plot points gradually as Lovell learns of them and never getting lost amid the flurry of time leaps. The actors aren’t big-name stars (unless you watch the TV show Bones), but everyone involved provides good performances, even the child actors and especially T. J. Thyne as Lovell.
Again, a big thank-you to Rob for his recommendation; it being an under-the-radar film that had trouble getting noticed before becoming a festival hit, I doubt I’d ever have seen Shuffle otherwise. My VC loved it as well, proving this is a film that deserves far more recognition. There’s a lot to admire about this film, from its structure and subtle foreshadowing to individual emotional scenes that just might put a lump in your throat. Stylistic choices also add visual interest, such as the backlighting that often imparts a luminous quality to certain scenes, and the color brightness changes depending on the timeframe. The director’s cut is apparently all in black-and-white, but I preferred the usage of color, particularly in the final scene.
I’ve read that many people disliked the ending, thinking it veers into overly satisfying territory, but I thought the whole final act was beautiful, a couple creative choices notwithstanding. In its testament of hope, Shuffle still acknowledges that mistakes and heartache can’t always be undone, but how we react to them can make the difference between a life fulfilled and a life wasted.
Best line: (Lovell’s mother, when he’s a grown man) “It seems like just yesterday, he was eight.” (Lovell) “Actually, that was two days ago.”
It seems so very long ago
The journey started with “hello,”
And then despite my disapproving,
Ever onward we were moving
Through the high and through the low,
Through lands I never dreamed I’d go.
And now at last, it’s with a sigh,
I whisper out a strained goodbye.
Despite the pain I had in store,
I’m glad I stepped out my front door.
From comfort’s hearth to dragon’s den,
I’ll treasure there and back again.
___________________
MPAA rating: PG-13
I reviewed the first two Hobbit films long ago as part of my original year-long movie countdown in 2014, when the third installment wasn’t even released yet, and despite my grouping the trilogy together on my list, it’s odd that I haven’t gotten around to reviewing The Battle of the Five Armies until now. Perhaps it’s because this third chapter of Peter Jackson’s prequel trilogy to The Lord of the Rings is most clearly the weakest of the bunch, the main problem being the preponderance of apocryphal embellishments found nowhere in Tolkien’s children’s novel.
It certainly can’t be accused of false advertising: it’s called The Battle of the Five Armies, and that’s exactly what you get—a huge, Middle-earth epic battle between dwarves, elves, the men of Laketown, orcs, and eventually eagles. If all I want out of a movie is sword slashing galore and spectacular set pieces, The Battle of the Five Armies delivers, especially reminding us just how awesome Legolas is. But in stretching out what is only a few pages in The Hobbit book, it falls short of the higher aspirations of The Lord of the Rings, each part of which deserved its near three-hour runtime. What with the painfully forced comic relief of Alfrid (Ryan Gage) and the unsatisfying love triangle of she-elf Tauriel (Evangeline Lilly of Lost) and he-dwarf Kili (Aidan Turner), it’s obvious that Jackson’s trying to string out this bloated third of a story in a less than successful manner. It’s not bad; it’s just forced at times. And don’t get me started on those were-worms! What is this, Dune?
Yet Middle-earth is never without its joys. Jackson does manage to improve certain scenes from the book, most notably the death of the dragon Smaug, and the themes of greed and loyalty started in An Unexpected Journey are fulfilled in Thorin’s obsession with protecting his newly won hoard. As it was from the start, the casting is (mostly) impeccable, whether it be Martin Freeman as the younger Bilbo Baggins, Luke Evans as heroic Bard the Bowman, or returning familiar faces like Ian McKellen and Hugo Weaving. And by the end, it does feel like a worthwhile journey has been taken, especially with the end credits that recall those of The Return of the King, backed by Billy Boyd’s magnificent “The Last Goodbye.” (See my End Credits Song Hall of Fame.) The Hobbit trilogy is undoubtedly less than The Lord of the Rings, but it is unfortunate that the last one received only a single Oscar nomination for Sound Editing. Surely it could have competed in Makeup, Visual Effects, and Best Song, but the series’ general inferiority made that unlikely. Even so, Jackson’s achievement should not be overlooked; he completed two consecutive epic trilogies, a feat that is clearly harder than it seems if James Cameron’s troubles with the Avatar sequels are any indication.
I still can’t help but feel that an opportunity was missed in making The Hobbit a trilogy rather than a two-parter. Early on, I thought it was perhaps to humanize the thirteen dwarfs so that each character wasn’t just one of the thirteen, and while Jackson was more successful with some than others, most of the dwarves still seemed interchangeable, even for me, a hardcore Middle-earth fan. It’s a shame that Jackson couldn’t leave us Middle-earth lovers with more than a CGI free-for-all and a wistful farewell, but any visit to the land of hobbits, dragons, wizards, and rings is still one worth taking.
Best line: (Thorin) “If more people valued home above gold… this world would be a merrier place…”
Rank: List-Worthy (mainly due to the previous two and my own fondness for the franchise)
Do you value your life,
All you have, all you know?
And for what would you trade it,
I wonder?
Could you ever decide
To what lengths you would go?
Would you grieve when you’d paid it,
I wonder?
I would never regret,
Says the fool, feeling smart,
To confirm his conviction
Till later.
But regrets always come
When we think with our heart.
‘Tis our own contradiction
And traitor.
___________________
MPAA rating: All not rated (should be PG-13)
Don’t judge a book by its cover, or in this case, a show by its genre. I would think most people even mildly familiar with anime have heard of magical girl shows like Sailor Moon or Cardcaptors, where a group of girls typically gain powers from some adorable talking creature and become cutesy superheroines. Not to dis those shows, but it’s the kind of formula that works well for kids yet becomes insufferable to outsiders and even older former fans, like me. Yet about six years ago, Puella Magi Madoka Magica (that’s Latin, by the way, not Japanese) revolutionized the genre under the mature eye of writer Gen Urobuchi. In American terms, that’s like Christopher Nolan directing a Barbie movie and making it awesome.
Since I’ve been reviewing only films up to this point, I’ll point out that Puella Magi Madoka Magica (I’ll just call it Madoka Magica to save time) isn’t just a TV show; it had a film follow-up subtitled Rebellion, and before that was released, the 12-episode series was edited and retooled as two theatrical films, the first called Beginnings, the second Eternal. Thus, that makes Madoka Magica eligible for my top movie list and well worth reviewing, since it happens to be my third favorite anime series, after Cowboy Bebop and Steins;Gate.
The odd thing about Madoka Magica is that it was marketed like any number of similar shows, light and innocent, and since it was original and not based on a manga, viewers had no idea what to expect. The opening credits are overly bright and cheery and the first couple episodes are nothing out of the ordinary, with the typical banter and buoyancy of color-coordinated middle-school girls, but don’t let that fool you. This series goes to some very dark and very emotional places, and it confirms the unwritten rule of watching at least three episodes of a given series before you write it off.
After school one day, Madoka (the one with pink hair) and Sayaka (blue hair) are rescued from a dangerous witch by upperclassman Mami Tomoe (yellow hair), who became a magical girl by making a deal with the talking animal-thing Kyubey: magical powers and the duty of battling witches in exchange for a single wish. At first, they’re awed by the potential of such a pact, but neither can bring themselves to trade away their old lives. Meanwhile, a black-haired new student and magical girl named Homura seems to have a mysterious mission to keep Madoka from accepting Kyubey’s deal at all costs. The story may threaten to lose your interest at first, but then comes a moment in the third episode that changes the entire tone of the show, a scene so sudden and shocking that it has burned itself into my memory, even though I knew about it beforehand. From there, the story spirals into tragedy, heartache, and themes far deeper than one would expect going in.
The characters are still young and naïve, and they buckle under the weight of the hard, regrettable choices placed upon them. They expect frilly costumes and to help people, and while there’s some of that, before long they must deal with disillusionment, death, lies, time travel, and the laws of thermodynamics. (Told you this wasn’t a typical magical girl show.) The catalyst for all this is Kyubey, who seems like a cute sidekick at first but holds much darker intentions with his Faustian contract. Even with his passive demeanor, high-pitched voice, and blank stare that gets creepier with time, he’s such a manipulative, logical little bugger that, by the end, I hated the very sight of him. He’s also essentially unkillable, but it was satisfying whenever anyone tried. Homura’s story in particular overshadows everyone else’s, and while she’s a mystery for most of the series, her backstory is remarkably compelling.
Like the story, the art style is also distinctive and layered with atmosphere. The animation of the real world is evocative on its own, often setting the mood with stylized angles and amber-tinged sunsets, and the character’s eyes have a unique sketched quality to them. Things get bizarre, though, whenever a witch appears in its labyrinth, not as a pointy-hatted antagonist but as a collage of stop-motion cutouts that go deep into surreal territory. The combination of the traditional animation with this dreamlike setting is often nightmarish and complements the story’s descent into misfortune, while certain scenes in silhouette are both beautiful and disturbing, incorporating artistic details evoking similar themes to Faust and The Little Mermaid. The action scenes are also very well-done, often with spectacular explosions. Boy, this series has everything.
I feel like I’ve been reviewing Madoka Magica the show rather than the movies, but the first two films basically are the series, with the first eight episodes making up Beginnings and the final four forming Eternal. They actually translate quite well, skipping over some of the awkward moments at the beginning and keeping only what’s necessary to the story, while retaining important character moments, like Madoka’s insightful conversation with her mother. Eternal has one extra battle scene and some revised animation but unfortunately includes some cutesy montages that feel out of place since the story’s tone had already changed drastically from the beginning. However, it does follow the same plot to the same heart-tugging finale. The series is full of tragic events that make me want to tear up just seeing the characters, but despite some overwrought execution of the cosmic twist at the end, the conclusion is sublimely bittersweet.
And then… they had to ruin it with a third movie. Rebellion may be more cinematic than the first two, but it’s nowhere near as successful. It tries to replicate the bait-and-switch of the series, with a lighthearted beginning that gets darker as it goes, but it does so by presenting an alternate version of events with an explanation far too long in coming. I suppose it’s a little satisfying to see the characters in the carefree life they thought they’d have as magical girls, but it indulges for too long. Sure, the plot eventually makes sense, but it’s not good when even those familiar with the story are utterly confused for over a half hour.
It’s not all bad. Once the plot deepens, it gets more absorbing, and the eventual reveal of the mystery reconfirms Kyubey as the most hateful cat-bunny-thing imaginable. There’s also an epic gun battle between two popular characters that is jaw-droppingly awesome and may be the action high point of the series. If only the rest of the story could live up to it. One side character has little reason for existing; the surreal visuals are the rule rather than the exception now, as if the filmmakers took turns animating their most unsettling drug trips; and the final twist took Homura’s obsession with Madoka in a wholly unsatisfying direction. And then it ends, with a brand new conflict introduced and no resolution. No! There’s talk of a fourth film in development, and while that may improve things if they can end it right, it doesn’t make the disappointment of Rebellion any better right now. Sequel-makers constantly ignore this demand, but don’t continue a series unless you can end it just as well as it already had!
The final movie aside, Puella Magi Madoka Magica is a brilliant and memorable series, well-written, poignant, and impressively visualized. The music is haunting, the animation arresting, and the character motivations powerfully nuanced yet pitiful and open to interpretation. It’s the kind of psychological story that leaves me with a persistent melancholy long after it’s over. I’m including a fan-made music video down at the bottom (set to one of my favorite Florence and the Machine songs) that might give you an idea of its peculiar power. For anyone still reading this who may be hesitant to check out a magical girl series, I can only say one thing: Don’t judge a book by its cover. You’ll be glad you didn’t.
Best line: (Kyubey, the loathsome, logical little scumball) “Why is it that when humans regret a decision they made based on their own misunderstanding, they feel resentment toward the other party?”
Tied with his punch-worthy “If you ever feel like dying for the universe, call me. I’ll be waiting.”
Rank for Beginnings and Eternal: List-Worthy
Rank for Rebellion: Dishonorable Mention
Our lives seem like a universe,
And yet they’re but a dot,
An inch upon a larger road,
An integer within the code,
A minute of an episode,
One tangle in a knot,
A drop within a mighty sea,
A twist within a tapestry,
The start of a soliloquy
We’ve barely even thought.
For how much larger must it seem
To One who knows its end.
Perhaps we’ll know the more we dream
And someday comprehend.
____________________
MPAA rating: PG-13
I love Marvel movies, and as much as I want to agree with most other reviewers that Doctor Strange is one of the best Marvel origin stories, I can’t quite bring myself to say it. Based on the visuals alone, it’s a cinematic wonder that deserves to be seen on the biggest screen possible. Storywise, I find my feelings similar to how I felt about last year’s widely loved blockbuster, namely Star Wars: The Force Awakens: I liked it a lot, but…. While most people don’t seem to mind the but, it necessarily tempers my praise.
What Doctor Strange gets right from the very beginning is Strange himself. Benedict Cumberbatch is so ideal for the role that I honestly cannot see anyone else donning the red cape. Early on, he essentially brings the same selfish arrogance of his Sherlock Holmes persona to the MCU, somehow making the audience feel invested in a conceited jerk of a surgeon. At first, he’s at the top of his field, but like Tony Stark and Thor before him, his vanity backfires. He’s humbled by one of the worst examples of distracted driving imaginable, and desperate to find healing, he journeys to Kamar-Taj in Nepal and discovers a more supernatural answer than he was expecting.
I do not belittle the visual mastery on display here, which I can best compare to Inception on steroids. After an initial confrontation between Kamar-Taj’s Ancient One (Tilda Swinton) and rogue sorcerer Kaecilius, where an entire city block wraps up on itself, it seems like the visual effects team were holding back during Strange’s initiation, one or two psychedelic mind trips notwithstanding. Yet that was only so that they could go full-on bonkers when Kaecilius returns. Ignoring the fact that the actors are just waving their hands around in real life, it’s amazing how gravity, space, time, and perspective fluctuate with incredible ease, and it truly seems that images and actions are limited solely by the imagination. The time manipulation of the final battle is especially awe-inspiring, clever, and quite different from the typical explosive endings Marvel is known for.
What all these Oscar-deserving effects cover up, though, are some uninspired stock characters. I could see Tilda Swinton trying to make her Ancient One more engaging than a typical wise mentor type, but she only half succeeds, though her final scene does carry emotional weight. Chiwetel Ejiofor as Strange’s compatriot Mordo and Benedict Wong as a librarian named, uh, Wong barely made an impression on me since they too fell into the wise, solemn master stereotype, with not enough humor to escape it. Oddly, I’ve seen Rachel McAdams’s love interest getting most of the character criticism elsewhere, but I thought she filled her small supporting role quite nicely.
The script too falls a tad short, not only in the humor department that we’ve come to expect from Marvel, but in the preponderance of mystical mumbo-jumbo that I can only take half-seriously. I appreciate Christian director Scott Derrickson softening the main character’s occult roots (much like how Thor’s godhood was explained through extradimensional advancement), but a lot of the meaningful lines seem overly familiar, starting with the clichéd “Forget everything that you think you know.” My VC was vastly more negative than I, probably because the mumbo-jumbo caused her to tune out at times, since she couldn’t always keep up with all the names and spiritual terminology, not having any experience heretofore with Strange in the comics. I suspect watching Doctor Strange again with subtitles will improve her opinion and mine in time. (My MCU tastes are just different than most, I guess. My VC and I both immediately loved Ant-Man, but Guardians of the Galaxy took some warming up to. Give us time; we’ll love almost all of them eventually.)
Once again, this whole review feels like one big complaint, but I did indeed like Doctor Strange. I think it’s one of the weaker origin stories, but it has some excellent strengths going forward, especially Cumberbatch (who I really wish would meet Martin Freeman’s character from Civil War now that they’re both in the MCU). Also, despite disliking the weak or undeveloped reason behind one character’s falling out with Strange, I’m definitely excited for the possibilities that the two requisite after-credits scenes imply. Doctor Strange may not be among my favorite MCU chapters, but the groundwork that it lays gives me high hopes for the future.
Best line: (Kaecilius) “How long have you been in Kamar-Taj, Mister…?”
(Dr. Strange) “Doctor!”
(Kaecilius) “Mister Doctor?”
(Dr. Strange) “It’s Strange!”
(Kaecilius) “Maybe, who am I to judge?”
