The glaring lights of other cars assault the driver’s eyes,
A father’s eyes that have not slept a wink.
His son is sleeping in the back or reasonably tries,
As far behind, the passing headlights shrink.
Their own light slices through the dark to blindly find the road,
Its end concealed by more than just the night.
Throughout their drive, the father’s pace has hardly ever slowed,
Lest thoughts of past or future cloud his sight.
The worries of a father’s love cannot be put to rest,
No matter where the son may chance to go.
Not even when they reach the destination of their quest
Will bonds of son and father cease to glow.
___________________
MPAA rating: PG-13
I haven’t seen any other films from director Jeff Nichols, but based on his reputation and the high expectations for his foray into science fiction, I anticipated something special, especially since Midnight Special was meant as a homage to classic ‘80s sci-fi. In fact, it has more than a passing resemblance to one of my favorite ‘80s sci-fi films, John Carpenter’s Starman, sharing a road trip to an important destination, a hunted protagonist with mysterious powers, and government agents hot on his trail.
In place of the romantic angle of Starman is a devoted father-son dynamic between Roy Tomlin (Michael Shannon) and his son Alton (Jaeden Lieberher), who has strange seizures during which his eyes glow and he picks up radio signals. There’s little set-up as we immediately join Roy’s odyssey, having already rescued Alton, with the help of his friend Lucas (Joel Edgerton), from a Texas cult that views the boy as a messianic savior. Alarmed to learn that the cult learned sensitive information through Alton, the government is eager to find him, as are the enforcers sent by the cult to retrieve him.
As much as I was looking forward to Midnight Special, this is one case where the description sounds better than the finished product. It’s certainly not a bad film, but much of the runtime seemed to hover on the edge of being dull. After the initial curiosity of what’s going on wears off, the tension and wonder are only felt in short bursts that aren’t always as compelling as they try to be. One stylistic choice that annoyed me with its frequency was how the characters are sometimes plunged into darkness where it’s hard to see what’s happening; naturally, these scenes are meant to accentuate the light that eventually appears, such as during a momentous sunrise, but the technique got old quickly.
What often kept the film from tipping into boredom was the performances, which are excellent across the board. Michael Shannon is a conflicted protagonist as he seeks the best for his son while never knowing where that may lead, and the extent of his ruthlessness is cleverly kept in doubt. Edgerton also excels in the role of a hesitant believer, as do Kirsten Dunst as Alton’s mother and Adam Driver as the NSA agent who ends up sympathizing with the boy’s quest (not unlike Charles Martin Smith in Starman). It’s the performances that save Midnight Special, along with some spurts of action that are exceptionally well-timed.
Midnight Special had plenty of potential from the start, but by the end, it’s hard not to feel that something is missing. It’s not that I need my sci-fi to be non-stop action; heck, I’ve heard people complain that Starman is boring. Yet whereas Starman wasn’t afraid to have a bit of fun with its hammy concept, Midnight Special is almost one-note in its seriousness and might have benefited from a less sober tone and a less ambiguous resolution. It undoubtedly has moments of brilliance, but such moments can only help a film so much.
Best line: (Alton) “You don’t have to worry about me.”
(Roy) “I like worrying about you.”
(Alton) “You don’t have to anymore.”
(Roy) “I’ll always worry about you, Alton. That’s the deal.”
While Luke was still on Tatooine,
Before his escapades were seen,
The rebels fought
With secret plot
For every desperate, daring shot.
Some fled, some died, and some were caught,
For freedom’s never cheaply bought.
Before the rebels found success,
They found a chance that none would guess,
A chance that few
Would dare pursue
But those who hopes were overdue.
The groundwork of the tried and true
Was laid by names we never knew.
__________________
MPAA rating: PG-13
I’ve been a little disconcerted at Rogue One’s mixed reception, with half the people loving it and the other half accepting it halfheartedly. I know how the latter group feels since that’s how I reacted to The Force Awakens last year, but not this year, not with Rogue One. I enjoyed it a lot, probably more than The Force Awakens, mainly because The Force Awakens will always have the shadow of Han Solo’s death hanging over it. No matter how many times I see it, it will always be “the one where they killed Han Solo.” I remember gloomily walking out of the theater in shock last year, but I left Rogue One as one should leave a Star Wars movie, exhilarated and satisfied, even if the film is meant for a more bittersweet kind of appreciation. I wanted to love it, and there was nothing that kept me from loving it.
What many find iffy about Rogue One is that it doesn’t quite feel like a Star Wars movie. There’s no in-your-face opening crawl and no Jedi; the overall tone is darker and grittier than the other films, and the rebellion is depicted in a more ruthless and morally ambiguous light. All this is true, yet the settings and sci-fi trappings feel enough like Star Wars that it seems more like an unexplored region of the franchise than an entirely separate affair. And of course, since Rogue One is set between the fall of the Jedi and the beginning of A New Hope, there are clear connections to both trilogies, most notably in the return of Darth Vader and another character whose very presence brings the magic of CGI to new heights.
Yet unlike The Force Awakens and its unoriginal blow-up-yet-another-Death-Star climax, Rogue One has no lack of originality. It does take its time getting started, establishing the various rebels and their motivations, particularly Jyn Erso (Felicity Jones), the daughter of the scientist (Mads Mikkelsen) forced to build the Death Star, and Cassian Andor (Diego Luna), a rebel fighter committed to following orders no matter what. The ragtag band that collects around them is especially highlighted with some humor by the blind kicker-of-butt Chirrut Îmwe (Donnie Yen) and the tall droid K-2SO (Alan Tudyk), who combines the snarkiness of R2 and the grumbling of C-3PO.
None of these characters are particularly deep or destined to be fan favorites, but as they band together to find Jyn’s father and the plans for the Death Star, most of them have some moment of truth or coolness that makes them memorable, like the machine-gun blaster of Chirrut’s friend Baze Malbus (Jiang Wen). I can’t say I had that much more connection with the new characters of Force Awakens after one viewing, but at least they have the benefit of further sequels. Rogue One is clearly a stand-alone film with characters that could be viewed as disposable, but by the time sacrifices were made, I cared enough about the characters that they were clearly more than cardboard cutouts. It’s a good balance, one that kept me invested without being overcome by grief like last year.
Even in the most mocked of the prequels, George Lucas always proved his skill at action sequences, and director Gareth Edwards does the same here. The film breaks out of that slow start with some highly entertaining thrills, ranging from ground combat to close escapes, and the big battle at the end had several “whoa” moments to bring out my inner Star Wars geek. Michael Giacchino’s score also complemented every scene, deftly incorporating the original John Williams music where apt. I also liked how the film provided an explanation for the Death Star’s glaring design flaw, which Luke so famously took advantage of. You know, one shot and the whole thing blows up—who thought that up? Well, someone did, and there’s actually a good reason.
Riding high after leaving the theater yesterday, I was brought down a bit by the sad news of Carrie Fisher’s death. Considering how Rogue One ends, it seemed strangely fitting that I picked that day to visit the movies. Now, of course, the film and its final scene will have a touch of bittersweet to it, even more than it already had, but at least I got to see it the first time without the sad connection. Rest in peace, Leia.
Rogue One may not be a perfect Star Wars film. Perhaps the characters are a bit thin; perhaps the effect used in the final scene is a little imperfect; perhaps the tone is a bit different from the familiar stories we grew up with. Forest Whitaker as extremist rebel Saw Gerrera isn’t as important as he seems at first, and he’s probably the reason some of the early scenes felt off. Likewise, I might have liked a little more screen time for known characters like Vader. Yet Rogue One isn’t about the movers and shakers of that galaxy far, far away; it’s about the rough-and-ready rebels on the front lines, the previously unknown players who made the heroics of Luke and Leia possible, and in that it’s a more than worthy addition to the Star Wars universe.
Best line: (Jyn and Cassian) “Rebellions are built on hope.”
The centuries are full of tales,
Not all of which are told for sales.
Some barely dent; some tip the scales,
And those who lived them rarely knew
If theirs for others would ring true.
The choices made for centuries
By king and kid and star and sleaze,
By massive and minute degrees
Affect, destroy, create, and bless
More fates than anyone could guess.
____________________
MPAA rating: R
Remember that feeling of being blown away that I mentioned back when I reviewed Inception and King of Thorn? Well, it’s back with a vengeance. After the credits of Cloud Atlas began rolling, I was left speechless and strangely satisfied. As Tom Hanks said in one of the DVD featurettes, upon reading the script, “I didn’t have any questions.” When the interviewer then asked, “So you understood it?” he replied with an unabashed “No.” Cloud Atlas is such a huge, epic, multi-layered piece of work that it’s no surprise that the most common descriptor from both admirers and detractors has been “ambitious.” It’s one of those rare films that found its way onto the best-of and worst-of lists of different critics, and I can easily understand both opinions. I feel I should recommend it to everyone, yet I can guarantee not everyone will like it. But I did.
I’m having trouble even coming up with a succinct way to describe Cloud Atlas, if there is one. Based on David Mitchell’s novel and adapted by Tom Tykwer and the Wachowskis of Matrix fame, it’s six separate stories in one, all linked by the continuity of souls and the bonds of literature, love, faith, music, kindness, and loss. The first tale is a 19th-century seafaring voyage of a dying lawyer (Jim Sturgess) and a runaway slave (David Gyasi). The lawyer’s journal is later read by a gay composer (Ben Whishaw), whose dealings with a famous maestro (Jim Broadbent) are like The Imitation Game with sheet music. The former’s letters are later read by Luisa Rey (Halle Berry), a journalist whose investigations play out like Silkwood meets Coma and inspire a mystery novel read later by Timothy Cavendish (Broadbent) as he plots against his Cuckoo’s Nest-style incarceration. Then, there’s the distant future, where a submissive clone named Sonmi-451 (Doona Bae) is saved by a resistance fighter (Sturgess) in Neo-Seoul, plus an even further post-apocalyptic future where Zachry (Tom Hanks) and a technologically advanced stranger (Berry) journey to potentially save what is left of mankind. How’s that for succinct?
With so much sheer plot to cover, it’s no surprise that the film stretches for close to three hours and could easily have been lengthened into a mini-series event. One of the most divisive aspects of Cloud Atlas is how it was edited, not with each story being told individually (as is the case in the novel, I’ve heard), but with every other scene jumping randomly to another time period to continue one of the other plotlines. One minute, we’re watching Tom Hanks as an apocalyptic goat herder, the next he’s playing a murderous author in 2012. I don’t know how the editing team kept track of everything, and it so easily could have turned into a confusing mess, but as odd as it seems, this unorthodox strategy works. It’s not every film that begins by explaining that, if the audience “can extend [their] patience for just a moment, you will find that there is a method to this tale of madness.” Each story is straightforward enough that I was able to follow it, especially with the settings and costumes differentiating them from each other. The method works too to drive home certain similarities between the timelines, in one instance someone walking along a precarious perch, in another a villain being knocked out from behind just before killing someone.
Each story seems to have its own genre too, whether it be the corporate espionage of the 1970s plot or the British comedy of the Cavendish tale. Probably the most entertaining are the futuristic Neo-Seoul segments, which also have the coolest visuals. Watching how these stories are connected in ways big and small, with questions raised early and answered late, is a journey which requires patience but which I found rewarding as some of the stories end tragically but some with great satisfaction. I also recognized quite a few little influences from other films, ranging from Silkwood,Soylent Green, and Mad Max to Logan’s Run, Wrinkles, and The Fellowship of the Ring.
As I alluded to earlier, the extensive cast make cameos of varying importance in the six stories, often playing such wildly deviating roles that I can imagine the actors viewing this film as a special treat and challenge for their abilities. Luckily, the entire cast rises to the occasion to make every character distinct, sometimes even playing roles of different gender and ethnicity. It’s practically a game trying to spot every recognizable face. Hanks, Berry, Broadbent, and Sturgess are the most significant presences throughout the film, but also making important impacts on the story are Susan Sarandon, Hugh Grant, Keith David, James D’Arcy, and Hugo Weaving. Weaving may be inescapably recognizable in every role, but he’s certainly diverse as a villain, playing a Nurse Ratched wannabe, a Korean board member, and a specter of the devil called Old Georgie. The care taken to hiding the actors in plain sight is incredible, and not to invalidate that Tom Hanks quote from earlier, but my main question afterward was where they incorporated everyone, even in unrecognizable cameos.
I suppose I should answer why Cloud Atlas appealed to me, when it clearly turns off so many others. I remember seeing the monumental 5+-minute trailer back in 2012, honestly the best trailer I think I’ve ever seen (see the bottom), and I’ve had a burning curiosity about it ever since, which has been delayed by reports of its confusing and objectionable narrative. And yet, I had to see it. I guess I’m simply an enormous appreciator of continuity, the idea that a storyteller knows where he’s going from the start and mixes the myriad ingredients and characters of his tale in subtle but memorable ways. That’s why I love Lost; all the little flashbacks converge at times, with characters bumping into each other long before they meet in earnest, hinting at a larger story and hand at work. I’m a sucker for this concept of cosmic connections which Cloud Atlas manages to capture across centuries; when the tapestry threads of the story come together and the music swells, I…I just can’t help but get goosebumps.
Yet I must admit that it’s not done in a particularly Christian way. Aside from the frequent language and occasional sex and violence, the plot hinges on the idea of reincarnation and the continuity of souls, things in which I do not believe. In fact, I usually roll my eyes at this kind of New Age metaphysical mumbo-jumbo, yet I can accept it as a movie concept for the sake of appreciating the bigger picture it paints, if only in a three-hour movie. Similarly, the long runtime and jarring changes of place and tone can be a bear to sit through, but it’s worth it once you get over the hump in the middle. Oh, and by the way, watch with subtitles; the furthest future segment has a crazily stylized pigeon-English that is admirable in a cultural sense but hard to understand without reading along.
Love it or hate it, Cloud Atlas is a film hard to forget, a piece of crazy cinematic art that is as bizarre and challenging as it is beautiful and daring. If its methods were a bit more mainstream, I could see it as a Best Picture nominee, but it’s a crime that it didn’t receive one Oscar nomination, not even for the effects or the universally lauded score. (It should have effortlessly won Makeup and Hairstyling, at least.) The cinematography and talented cast clearly mark it as a noble effort, and I suppose it’s up to each individual viewer to decide whether it’s a masterpiece or a train wreck. It’s a monument of a film, one full of ideas and themes I do not endorse or believe in and others that are simply universal. This is not a film to watch casually, but it is undoubtedly worth watching.
Best line: (Haskell Moore, played by Weaving) “There is a natural order to this world, and those who try to upend it do not fare well. This movement will never survive; if you join them, you and your entire family will be shunned. At best, you will exist a pariah to be spat at and beaten; at worst, to be lynched or crucified. And for what? For what? No matter what you do, it will never amount to anything more than a single drop in a limitless ocean.” (Adam Ewing, played by Sturgess) “What is an ocean but a multitude of drops?”
Far, far away, both in distance and year,
On a planet of sand known as Dune,
Spice was the word they all wanted to hear,
Its wealth their desire, its dearth their worst fear,
But the devious monarchs would learn all too soon
That they would not easily conquer this sphere.
Though long ago, a great prophecy stood
Of a savior to liberate Dune.
Though rivals and emperors did what they could
To see that he never would reach adulthood,
His destiny rose like the taciturn moon
To rescue this coveted planet for good.
____________________
MPAA rating: PG-13
Since I mentioned Dune in my post yesterday, guess what movie my VC wanted me to review next? While some of her picks end up being pleasant surprises for me, I’ve seen Dune enough times (thanks to her) that I knew this latest viewing wasn’t about to change my opinion. She loves it; I don’t, and neither of us are alone. David Lynch’s long, tiresome adaptation of Frank Herbert’s celebrated sci-fi novel was savaged by critics at the time, but over the years, it’s gained more appreciation, even a cult following. I can understand why it warrants a cult following, but the simple truth remains, it’s not a very good movie.
Perhaps the hardest challenge facing Lynch as director and screenwriter was somehow compressing Herbert’s enormous otherworldly tale into a feature-length film. The story has so many characters, foreign names and gadgets, and plot-specific terminology that it’s no wonder casual viewers were thoroughly lost. Luckily, my VC has read the book, which I’m sure helps her, and I’ve seen the film enough times that I can follow what’s going on well enough. However, it’s hard to ignore the fact that the first 20 or 30 minutes is spent with different characters taking turns to spout exposition. Before the story even begins in earnest, we have to learn about the four key planets and their rulers, and the drug-like Spice that enables space travel and is only found on Arrakis/Dune, and the subterfuge of the emperor (José Ferrer) in pitting the houses of Atreides and Harkonnen against each other, and the telepathic Bene Gesserit sisterhood that has breeding rules broken by Duke Leto Atreides’ concubine (Francesca Annis) in order to give her love a son named Paul (Kyle MacLachlan), who may have a dangerous messianic destiny. You got all that? Well, I guarantee that it’s easier reading it than listening to it all in one go, which is probably why Herbert’s book was so much more popular than Lynch’s film.
The 137-minute film is so packed with plot that there’s literally no time for character building. Every character is formed solely by how they’re explained to us and what they do to further the plot. When Paul meets a lovely Fremen girl (Sean Young) after he’s been banished to the desert, you know they’ll end up together, not because of their chemistry or anything, but because Paul had visions of her and it makes sense for the plot. There are smaller quibbles too, whether it be the constant internal monologuing, the bizarre intentions of a traitor in the Atreides house, or the casting of an important character from the books only to kill him off in a trice, not to mention the strange and disgusting Harkonnen villains and the sudden ending.
Wow, sometimes I convince myself to like a film more by writing about all its strengths, but I think the opposite has happened here. I don’t hate Dune by any means, nor am I sorry to have seen it since it is not without some redeeming factors. True, most of the actors are in “serious sci-fi mode,” but it was enjoyable to see so many familiar faces before their more recognizable roles, which were often still in the realm of science fiction. There are Patrick Stewart (Star Trek: The Next Generation), Dean Stockwell (Quantum Leap), Brad Dourif (Voyager and Lord of the Rings), Jürgen Prochnow (Air Force One), Max von Sydow (Dreamscape, Flash Gordon), and even Sting (yes, the singer), among many others. Plus, I must commend Lynch and his set design team for bringing these extraterrestrial deserts and palaces to life. Even if some of the effects are still dated, the giant worms are admittedly impressive too, especially when backed by the symphonic rock score supplied by the band Toto.
As much as I wish I could count Dune among my favorites, its negatives are just too conspicuous to overlook. Even I will concede, though, that it was a valiant effort for all those involved, one which my VC and other fans clearly appreciate more than most.
Best line: (Duke Leto Atreides) “I’ll miss the sea, but a person needs new experiences. They jar something deep inside, allowing him to grow. Without change, something sleeps inside us and seldom awakens. The sleeper must awaken.”
Tomorrow, tomorrow,
With no time to borrow,
The future may very well sink into sorrow.
It’s hard to predict
When our views contradict,
And the fears that some carry are dreams others picked.
The future is ever
In danger; however,
We mustn’t believe it’s a futile endeavor.
Are trends that we set then
The kind we’ll regret? Then,
It’s clear dark tomorrows will come…if we let them.
____________________
MPAA rating: PG
What happens when everyone says a movie is bad and you like it anyway? Every review I read of Tomorrowland painted it as an unwieldy flop in which every positive element was spoiled by a negative. Thus, I skipped it, preferring to spend my 130 minutes on something more critically favored. Yet, when I finally gave it a chance, Tomorrowland proved to be a highly enjoyable ride, a sci-fi wonder in which every negative had a positive to mostly redeem it, at least in my opinion.
Beginning at the 1964 New York World’s Fair, young Frank Walker presents David Nix (Hugh Laurie) with a homemade jet pack that isn’t quite fully functional, and Nix’s girl companion Athena (Raffey Cassidy) is impressed enough to invite Frank to the titular technology wonderland. Cut then to teenage Casey Newton (Britt Robertson), who goes out of her way to keep alive the hopes of the Space Age by prolonging her engineer dad’s NASA contract through sabotage. She’s an incorrigible optimist, unwilling to bend to the downbeat world, and when Athena appears again to give her a mysterious pin and a glimpse of Tomorrowland, Casey is eager to pursue it. Joining with a bitter, grown-up Frank (George Clooney), they embark on a thrilling chase to reach the other-dimensional utopia where all does not seem to be well.
I’ll focus first on everything Tomorrowland has going for it. All the actors excel, especially Raffey Cassidy who shines in a wise-beyond-her-years type of role. As a director, Brad Bird also knows how to direct a visually exciting film. With its jetpacks, robots, and floating swimming pools, the striking metropolis of Tomorrowland that appears whenever Casey touches the pin has wonders tailored to both 1960s and present-day tastes. In addition, many aspects of the film feel inspired by the intrigue of Men in Black, incorporating imaginative gadgets, geeky thrills, and futuristic plot devices hidden in plain sight. With all the killer android chases and high-tech detours, it’s easy to let the plot carry you along and ignore the fact that it’s not really going anywhere worthwhile. By the time we see Tomorrowland itself, it feels like a hollow piece of false advertising, though that does make sense for the plot. I do wish that we were able to see Tomorrowland the city as more than just an unreached potential, but it’s a case of the journey overshadowing the destination, with the journey being pretty entertaining.
I see what others have criticized about the uneven plot, the disappointing goal, and the borderline creepy relationship between Clooney and 12-year-old Raffey Cassidy, and they’re not wrong. But Tomorrowland is a prime example of a film that depends on how much the viewer is willing to let such faults bother them. While the two films are nowhere near the same league, I could point to 2012’sLes Miserables as another such film; half of viewers complained about the singing of Hugh Jackman and Russell Crowe and couldn’t take the constant singing seriously, while the other half (me included) were captivated by the film’s emotional and musical power. I can’t say those of the other opinion are wrong; their objections just didn’t ruin the film for me. Sometimes, if the majority of a film delights, a half-baked ending can be forgiven. And the objection about Clooney and Cassidy depends entirely on the strength of your suspension of disbelief; based on Athena’s character as written, it doesn’t have to be creepy.
What Tomorrowland tries to be is an antidote to the constant stream of dystopian fiction in our media. Zombie outbreaks, totalitarian governments, natural disasters—it seems that Star Trek is the only proposed future that is actually worth looking forward to. Tomorrowland takes that fatalism literally and suggests that such warnings are more harmful than good if no one heeds them, a cautious lesson worth more than a casual thought. Perhaps, the film insists, optimism itself can change the world for the better. Yes, it sounds corny, going overboard in the soapy commercial-like final scene, but if the constant pessimism of grim social commentaries can captivate audiences, can’t the polar opposite have its day too? I recognize the flaws of Tomorrowland, not least of which are smacks of elitism in the recruiting of the best and brightest to populate a separated utopia that doesn’t seem to directly better the world at large, but it appeals to the dreamer, the hoper, and the lover of sci-fi adventure. That’s good enough for me.
Best line: (Casey) “There are two wolves, and they are always fighting. One is darkness and despair. The other is light and hope. Which wolf wins?”
(her dad) “Come on, Casey.”
(Casey) “Okay, fine. Don’t answer.”
(dad) “Whichever one you feed.”
Evil is as evil does,
And evil doesn’t mind because
While good is following the rules,
The baddies laugh them off as fools.
To be a nut or psychopath,
You dwell in envy, greed, and wrath
And do your best to put the pest
Of conscience finally to rest.
Despite the evil laugh and smirk,
A qualm or two may be at work.
Though hearts of darkness look askance,
Perhaps the good just needs a chance.
_________________
MPAA rating: PG-13
Suicide Squad proves that an awesome trailer does not always mean an awesome movie. Like many, I was disappointed with the dreary excesses of Batman v. Superman and had real hope that Suicide Squad would be a much-needed dose of cheeky fun for the DC Extended Universe. While it could be seen that way, the packaging leaves much to be desired. Suicide Squad continues the DC trend of jamming as many plots and characters as possible into a feature-length film and never reaching the full potential of any of them. I keep coming back to what one of my coworkers said after watching it. As a DC purist, she excitedly announced, “That movie was… [I expected descriptors like “awesome,” “thrilling,” “hilarious,” but no, she said] …not bad.” Okay, I’ll give her that.
Suicide Squad is DC’s version of The Dirty Dozen. Ruthless government official Amanda Waller (Viola Davis) decides to recruit the most skilled prisoners of Belle Reve Prison as an insurance policy against rogue metahuman threats, one of which crops up from her own meddling with supernatural beings. I have to admit that it’s a talented cast they’ve assembled here. Will Smith as gunmeister Deadshot could be considered the heart of the team, with his concern for his young daughter, and Smith’s natural likability makes him the most sympathetic of the group, along with Jay Hernandez’s fire-wielding Diablo. Margot Robbie gets all of the attention as bat-crazy Joker groupie Harley Quinn, while Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje (Lost alert!) and Jai Courtney can’t quite represent Killer Croc and Captain Boomerang as more than one-note characters with some occasional comic relief. And that’s not even mentioning team chaperone Rick Flag (Joel Kinnaman), his dark-sided lover June Moone/Enchantress (Cara Delevingne), his sword-swinging bodyguard Katana (Karen Fukuhara), and one other member of the Squad who is given such little attention that he might as well have “REDSHIRT” taped to his back. Oh, and wasn’t the Joker in this too?
Let’s be honest: this is DC trying to do what Marvel did with Guardians of the Galaxy, teaming up purported baddies as a ragtag fighting force that falls somewhere in between the definitions of “hero” and “anti-hero.” Guardians succeeded with that middle ground, thanks to the fact that one was repentant, one was driven by grief until a moment of realization, and the other three weren’t all that bad at heart, but Suicide Squad stumbles by giving us actual villains without much in the way of reform. This commitment to anti-heroism leaves the audience grasping for someone to root for. Every time you start sympathizing with a character, you’re reminded that they’re an unrepentant psychopath or a brutal enforcer, and that’s supposedly okay? Waller herself is no better than her minions, willing to kill her subordinates without a second glance or any repercussions.
The tone and look of the film also fall short of the mark. The special effects are top-of-the-line, but the editing and visual aesthetic are frequently choppy and muddled. What was intended as gritty, fun, and irreverent turns out to be loud, garish, and confusing. Perhaps the latest version of the Joker exemplifies the film’s unsavory aspects. Jared Leto is not a bad actor, but as the Joker, he’s no Heath Ledger or Jack Nicholson. Instead of the maniacal jokester we’ve come to expect, he’s basically a gaudy gangster whose craziness fails to stand out from that of the other characters. While some have complained about his limited screen time, I didn’t mind.
It wasn’t my intention for this to be an entirely negative review. Suicide Squad is not without its strengths; they’re just buried in the mountain of plot that the filmmakers couldn’t bear to part with. While Deadshot and Harley Quinn have received most of the acclaim, I preferred some of the less developed characters. Diablo’s remorse for his past misdeeds made him the most admirable of the group, coupled with some cool powers, and I would have liked to have seen more of Katana and her soul-capturing sword. One moment of hallucinations revealed the positive dreams that even villains have, and I wish they could have built on that source of sympathy. Flashbacks aside, the plot actually made for a decently paced action movie, even if it yielded to the familiar overblown climax toward the end. And though there was nothing laugh-out-loud, I suppose I appreciate the fact that Suicide Squad wasn’t afraid to chuckle at itself. Plus, it at least didn’t have any obviously stupid twist like Batman v. Superman.
I wanted to enjoy Suicide Squad more than I did, but while my respect for many films often increases with time and thought, this one has actually lessened in my estimation the more I think of it. It’s not terrible, just muddy and flawed. DC may still be a powerhouse moneymaker, but if they can’t churn out a better superhero movie soon, they won’t have the longevity of Marvel. Wonder Woman looks pretty darn good at this point, and I just hope that the trailer is actually a good representation next time.
Best line: (Griggs, a petty prison guard afraid of Deadshot) “Ames, If this man shoots me, I want you to kill him, and I want you to go clear my browser history.”
Rank: Honorable Mention (only because I’d probably see it again)
Space, the final frontier
Entices the brave pioneer.
Adventures await
When cadets graduate
At the start of a thrilling career.
Yet in between alien wars
And interdimensional doors,
The truth is that space
Can be one boring place
For a hero in search of encores.
Sometimes a more perilous foe
Must devastate our status quo,
Reminding us why
We decided to fly
And where we’re committed to go.
_____________________
MPAA rating: PG-13
After the rebooted Star Trek had its glorious return in 2009 and its original-continuity-referencing sequel in 2013, it’s logical that the filmmakers for its third entry asked “What next?” Surely they thought it wise to distance Star Trek Beyond from the original series timeline and stories that so influenced the first two, and I’m glad to say they succeeded. Star Trek Beyond feels like it’s settled into the story-of-the-week format that the series had, and this particular story both references that potentially dull routine and spices it up with audacious sights we’ve never seen before.
The famous characters have already been established in prior films and pop culture, so the film doesn’t spend much time on new character development (aside from the brief but unnecessary implication that Sulu is gay). Yet the film still finds a way to insert emotional weight at the beginning, from a much more mature Kirk (Chris Pine) dealing with how the thrill is gone to Spock (Zachary Quinto) getting some sad news. We also get to see the eye-popping Yorktown, a space station so futuristically cool it makes you wonder why we’ve never seen it before in the Star Trek universe (though it does have visual echoes of Inception and Upside Down).
This setup is rather slow at the start, but once the action starts, it doesn’t let up. Before you know it, a swarm of bee-like ships are crashing into the Enterprise’s hull, and all hell breaks loose. Much of the crew become stranded on a nearby planet, hunted by a mysterious alien named Krall (Idris Elba). To make sure everyone in the ensemble gets their fair share of screen time, they’re split into twos, a method that works rather well in spreading the characters out and exposing them to different elements relevant to the plot. Also added is Sofia Boutella as another stranded ally named Jaylah, who helps the crew battle Krall.
Being a fan of Star Trek: Voyager, I noticed that this latest film seemed to draw some inspiration from that show. In the third season episode “The Swarm,” Voyager runs into a fleet of small swarming ships not unlike Krall’s armada, and they even defeat the swarm in a similar manner, though admittedly with less style. Voyager also seemed to have more episodes where one or two crew members were stranded on alien planets, making that aspect of the film also feel more familiar.
Even more than the others, Star Trek Beyond is an action movie, with new director Justin Lin bringing some flair from his experience with the Fast and Furious franchise. The camerawork makes the running and explosions a bit more frenetic and hard to follow at times, but there’s no shortage of dynamic thrills. Several impressive scenes and set pieces just left me saying “Dang!” (in a good way, of course), though if there was any Trek movie I would not want to be a redshirt in, this is it. The effects are still awesome to behold, not least of which is “that scene,” the one so many reviewers have noted as being particularly over-the-top, for good or ill. I for one thought it was brilliant and spectacular, especially on the big screen, as well as a nice musical callback to the 2009 film.
The only place Star Trek Beyond seriously stumbled was the villain. Elba is all right as Krall, though hard to understand at times, but his character’s backstory was far too ambiguous. Why did he look the way he did? Where did the fleet of alien ships come from? I’m not sure if these questions were answered and I missed it, or if the writers just glossed over those details. Either way, it could have been clearer.
Of the reboot trilogy, I still love the first most, but Star Trek Beyond is just as good and more original than Into Darkness. Couple the rousing action with the bittersweet tributes to deceased cast members Leonard Nimoy and Anton Yelchin, and Beyond becomes a well-rounded addition to the Trek canon. Yelchin’s death, in particular, throws the future of the series into doubt, but I certainly hope that there are more Star Trek stories to tell.
Best line: (Krall) “You can’t stop it. You will die.” (Kirk) “Better to die saving lives, than to live by taking them. That’s what I was born into.”
Rank: Top-100-Worthy (Joining Star Trek into Darkness)
Right-side up is upside down
To those who smile when they frown,
To those who plunge whene’er they jump
Or rise when tripping on a bump
Or gobble down and up their meals
And sink a little in high heels,
To those who elevate a bit
If they lean over, kneel, or sit,
To those who set a precedent
When they descend on their ascent.
Up and down can be subjective.
‘Tis a matter of perspective.
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MPAA rating for Upside Down: PG-13
MPAA rating for Patema Inverted: should be PG
For the next Cartoon Comparison, I’ve chosen two science fiction films with wildly imaginative concepts that happen to be suspiciously similar. Both the live-action Upside Down from Canada and the anime Patema Inverted from Japan feature the idea of opposite gravities: people walking on the ceilings, objects falling up, and the unlikelihood of two oppositely oriented young people overcoming the hatred of their politically hostile worlds. What differs is the way their worlds interact and the pseudo-scientific “explanation” for the curious gravitational situation.
Upside Down came first so if there was any copying being done, the live-action film can claim to be the original. Here, as explained by the narration of Adam (Jim Sturgess), two planets orbit each other so closely that there is essentially no sky. Looking up from either world, one simply sees the other planet’s surface, about as far away as a skyscraper, echoing perhaps the folding city street in Inception. One planet is considered Up Top, full of wealth and societal power, while the other is the economically exploited Down Below, though there’s no telling how they were named, considering the potential confusion of “up” and “down.” Luckily, the extraordinary visuals elevate the film’s none-too-subtle class struggle. Even if there were moments that I wasn’t sure what I was seeing at first, the remarkable effects were a marvel to the eye.
As for the love story, Adam from Down Below happens to meet Eden (Kirsten Dunst) from Up Top, and they share remote romantic rendezvous in the mountains until the government breaks them apart. Years later, as Adam experiments with a practical anti-gravity serum, he seizes a chance to see Eden again at Transworld, the tower-like corporate bridge between the two worlds. The two leads certainly have chemistry, but due to a certain plot point, they don’t get to take much advantage of it, and Sturgess’s behavior can be awkward at times.
Yet Adam’s quest to reunite with Eden without being caught by the authorities leads to a good deal of inventiveness, such as his attempt to weigh himself “up” and pose as a citizen of Up Top. Unfortunately, logic gets in the way at times, including the film’s own invented gravitational rules. For instance, Adam never seems to have a problem with the blood flowing to his head when upside down. Wouldn’t that be both uncomfortable and a possible give-away to anyone who might notice? In addition, one of the planetary laws is that matter from opposite worlds eventually burns, but the time it takes for this to happen seems inconsistent. By film’s end, the conclusion is peculiarly rushed, offering a blanket resolution to crucial issues it couldn’t hope to address and doesn’t try. Upside Down is brilliant in concept, less so in execution, but the visuals alone are worth the watch.
Upside Down may have come first, but Patema Inverted utilizes the notion of inverse gravity far better, in my opinion. Perhaps the fantastical image of falling up is simply more credible in animation rather than live-action CGI, but it certainly captured the imagination of director Yasuhiro Yoshiura, who previously directed the compelling series-turned-movie Time of Eve. (I was impressed by both Patema and Time of Eve separately but didn’t realize till afterward that they shared the same director.)
Instead of the up-front exposition of Upside Down, Patema Inverted takes its time to show and develop the gravitational anomalies as the characters discover them. Patema is a girl living in a City of Ember-like underground bunker and seems to be one of the few inhabitants to show an interest in the Forbidden Zone, where dust floats upward and “bat people” are rumored to lurk. After a close encounter, she finds herself dangling from a fence with the sky looming “below” her. Luckily, she is saved by the equally curious surface boy Age, who seems upside down to her. Age lives under a totalitarian dystopian government, whose leader is determined to root out the surviving inverts, who made their way underground after a catastrophic accident sent most of them falling into the sky years ago.
Upside Down basically lacked any sky; there was only so far someone could fall. Patema Inverted, however, makes the sky an imposing threat, a beautiful but dangerous abyss ready to swallow Patema without Age’s assistance. The animation is frequently dazzling, especially when the point of view shifts to contrast Age’s perspective with Patema’s. As Patema ventures into Age’s world and he ventures into hers, the distinction of up and down becomes fluid. The plot even takes some initially confusing twists that challenge the viewer’s perceptions and require some extra thought to fully comprehend. Some might be befuddled, but I found it fascinating. Plus, the musical score is enchanting and perfectly complements the film, including the gorgeous credits song “Patema Inverse,” which is sung in Esperanto and earns a place in the End Credits Song Hall of Fame. Between this and Time of Eve, I’m definitely hoping that Yoshiura continues to create such intriguing films.
I will admit that Patema Inverted seems to draw some inspiration from Upside Down. The cause of the inverted gravity differs (natural phenomenon vs. manmade disaster), but how the two gravities interact is the same: the lesser weight lightens the gravity of the other. This leads to the couples in both films holding on to each other to prevent the other from falling away, and being able to defy gravity by using each other’s weight. Writing about it doesn’t seem to do it justice, but it’s clever, cool, and undeniably similar in both films. As original as Patema Inverted is, I can’t help but wonder how much inspiration it drew from the earlier film. In addition, Patema is also rather slow in its gradual plot progression, and the villain is stereotypically bad for bad’s sake.
Despite these minor “down”-sides, Patema Inverted is easily the better film. Upside Down may have brought gravitational sci-fi to life first, but its conventional plot can’t compare with the thought-provoking vision of its animated counterpart.
Best line from Upside Down: (Adam) “Gravity, they say you can’t fight it. Well, I disagree. What if love was stronger than gravity?”
Best line from Patema Inverted: (Age, when holding onto Patema) “I get it! Your weight makes me light.” (Patema) “Girls don’t like it when you talk like that!”
Rank for Upside Down: List Runner-Up
Rank for Patema Inverted: List-Worthy
The X-Men are back…yet again, it would seem.
Professor X still is collecting a team
Of mighty good mutants, both young men and ladies,
But what kind of evil would threaten the ’80s?
An evil so great none remember his name,
Who’s awfully annoyed at the loss of his fame
And wants to subdue the whole world since he can.
Now that’s an original motive and plan!
A good thing for us that some teens will defend us
From egos tremendous and costumes horrendous.
Destruction is nigh…yet again, it would seem,
But we know the future, so don’t worry, team.
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MPAA rating: PG-13
Most were doubtful as to whether Bryan Singer could follow up the success of Days of Future Past with a worthy sequel. X-Men: Apocalypse confirmed that those doubts were not unfounded, yet this is no The Last Stand. Singer has proven that he can produce a great X-Men movie, so it stands to reason that he can also give us a mostly good one. Even if Apocalypse is the awkward third child of the most recent reboot trilogy, it still received enough care and attention to be a worthwhile member of the family.
Set in the 1980s, ten years after mutants were revealed to the world in Days of Future Past, the film reintroduces younger versions of other characters from the original trilogy: Cyclops (Tye Sheridan), Nightcrawler (Kodi Smit McPhee), Storm (Alexandra Shipp), and Jean Grey (Sophie Turner). In Cyclops’s case, we get a firsthand example of a new student being introduced to the school (through his brother Alex Summers/Havoc from First Class) and learning about his new powers, echoing the early days of Rogue’s arrival in the first X-Men. In addition, there’s quite a bit of globe-hopping, from Magneto’s too-good-to-last family life in his native Poland to Mystique’s mutant rescue missions to Moira McTaggert’s discovery of the long-dormant super-mutant known as En Sabah Nur or Apocalypse (unrecognizable Oscar Isaac). As Apocalypse gathers empowered minions to his cause of, you know, the end of the world, it’s up to the X-Men to band together and stop him.
I do want to make it clear that I enjoyed X-Men: Apocalypse, seeing all of the characters together again, the action-packed showdowns and references to other films, from Nightcrawler’s Catholicism to an explanation for Xavier’s baldness. While the reason for his presence is never really resolved, a visit from Evan Peters’ Quicksilver proved to be the highlight of the whole movie; he got the best scene in Days of Future Past, and once again his standout moment alone was worth the price of admission.
I liked a good deal of this Apocalypse, but there are some unavoidable flaws that bothered me as well. The most noticeable issue is an excess that’s hard to put into words. Certain scenes were just a bit…much. The opening scene, in which ancient Egyptian rebels bury Apocalypse under a very poorly constructed pyramid, has a lot of noise and effects without much context. Other scenes are similarly over-the-top. One big oh-no calamity is blaringly melodramatic, intercut with worldwide reactions and an extravagant “you-are-nothing-compared-with-me” speech from Oscar Isaac. Likewise, the pacing sometimes lags in the big fights as the clearly overpowered Apocalypse delivers “I-will-destroy-you” monologues while the heroes encourage each other to “release your power!” which they, of course, do. It’s rather wearisome by the end.
The other problem is one that seems to have annoyed me more than others: continuity. I love and value attention to continuity, and it’s one of the aspects that made Days of Future Past so amazing, since it delivered a satisfying and believable closure to both timelines. Yet for the events of X-Men: Apocalypse to make any sense with the original trilogy, we must assume that Days of Future Past began an alternate timeline, such that the other films never will happen or at least not as the movies depict events. In Apocalypse, characters meet when they shouldn’t yet, Wolverine shows up with Stryker in a way that seems to ignore Origins, and the writers have given up trying to make Mystique into the villain from the first X-Men. Remember that last tantalizing little Stryker/Mystique scene from the end of Future Past? It’s entirely disregarded. The other prequels had their continuity issues too, but so much in Apocalypse has to be taken separate from the other films that it indeed feels like an alternate timeline, making one wonder why Singer had to muddy the waters. I suppose that’s not hard to believe; unlike the Marvel Cinematic Universe, the X-Men films have probably gone on far longer than anyone expected them to, leading different filmmakers to essentially make it up as they go along. It’s just made more confusing for us continuity seekers when Singer actively tries to reference events that will happen, like the whole Dark Phoenix debacle.
I’m not the first to point out Jean Grey’s self-referential line as she and her friends exit a screening of Return of the Jedi: “Well, at least we can all agree the third one’s always the worst.” As X-Men films go, Apocalypse falls squarely in the middle of the pack; it’s nowhere near the best, but DC’s efforts this year have at least saved it from being labelled the worst superhero movie of 2016. As much as I enjoy these movies, I can’t help but feel that, after nine films, the X-Men franchise might be ready to end. Hugh Jackman is supposedly hanging his claws up after one more outing as Wolverine, which is allegedly set up by the after-credits scene that will make no sense to non-comic readers. There’s so much comic material still uncovered, but I wonder if the X-Men have been played out. I wish the franchise could end on a high note like Days of Future Past, but only time will tell.
Best line: (Charles, defying Apocalypse and still able to sum up the entire point of the X-Men) “Those with the greatest power… protect those without. That’s my message to the world.”
The world was collapsing
With panic forecast
And death in the news everyday,
Yet we were persuaded
That one short sleep passed
Would sweep the dark future away.
We woke to a nightmare
More dire than the last,
Confronted and hunted and trapped.
We slept to thwart death,
Which would not be outclassed
By sleepers with secrets untapped.
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MPAA rating: Not Rated (should be R)
One movie-watching emotion that I especially love and rarely get the chance to experience is the feeling of having my mind blown. The best example I can point to for that would be Inception, and to a lesser extent The Prestige, both Christopher Nolan features with unspoiled twists and a provocative narrative boldness. All too often the twist is either spoiled for me (Predestination, The Sixth Sense) or it’s not all that surprising (The Usual Suspects, Interstellar), so when a film provides me with that rare blend of shock and wonder, I treasure it. King of Thorn did just that.
I had heard that this anime film was a combination of Inception, Aliens, and Lost, and…that’s exactly what it is, with a little Matrix and Akira thrown in for good measure. In the first scene, we see a woman commit suicide by jumping off a building, but when she lands, her body shatters, revealing the effects of a new fatal disease dubbed the Medusa virus. This plague that turns humans to stone quickly becomes a worldwide pandemic; in response, the Venus Gate organization selects 160 infected individuals to be put into a Cold Sleep until a cure can be found. When the diverse group is awakened from stasis, surrounded by thorny vines, a horde of monsters attacks them, thinning the herd (not unlike the plane crash at the beginning of Lost) in a scene sure to make you even more afraid of falling down an elevator shaft. Only seven survive, including timid Kasumi, who had to leave her twin sister behind and now must survive with the others and escape from this nightmare.
Now the typical viewer might think that they slept in stasis for hundreds of years to awaken in a post-apocalyptic future, and that’s actually exactly what the characters assume at first. But let’s just say there’s more to it, a lot more. Almost every character has a secret or a past trauma, and the plot twists just keep coming. Like Lost, the film even teases suggestions of what is really going on. Is all of this a dream? Did Kasumi and her sister somehow switch places? There’s no way I’m going to spoil it, though, and I guarantee you that you’ll be kept guessing right up to the last ten minutes.
Because King of Thorn is so packed with plot, from repeated flashbacks that slowly reveal more to overly explanatory references to Sleeping Beauty, it’s not surprising that not everything gets a resolution. Some plot points are dropped without a second glance, and the ending doesn’t even try to address a major uncertainty. Plus, even if I think I understand how everything came about, I’m not sure I get why it all happened the way it did, perhaps due to the significant omissions from the manga the film is based upon (which everyone who’s read it seems to agree is better than the film). Yet the fast-paced action and thought-provoking narrative made up for these faults. If you’re one of those people who hated all the loose threads in Lost, King of Thorn will leave you equally perplexed; but I for one didn’t mind at all, and I know quite a few friends and fellow bloggers who would find this film fascinating. I’ve already introduced it to a friend of mine, and he loved it.
On the down side, it’s a film worthy of an R rating, with gruesome killings and a little nudity toward the end. Yet, the gore was far from constant, and like Aliens, it’s the kind of violence one can easily see coming and just turn away from at the right moment. At least, that’s what I did. As for the question of whether to see the subtitled or dubbed version, both have their strengths. The English dub features accents that make it clear that the survivors are from around the world (British, Italian, American, Australian), but it also has the foul language one would expect from an R-rated horror thriller. If you care about avoiding profanity, the original subtitles have far less.
Despite the few negatives, King of Thorn is an exceptional sci-fi thriller that played with my mind in the best way and even managed to touch the heart. The cast of characters are all unique and sympathetic as their back stories are clarified, and the music adds to an epic sense of mystery, especially in the early scenes. (The song “Edge of This World” also earns entrance to the End Credits Song Hall of Fame.) The animation beautifully brought to life both the thrilling and the grotesque, and even if some might complain about the occasional merging of 2D and 3D animation in the action scenes, I didn’t find it distracting. In the days since I first saw it, King of Thorn has only risen in my estimation, and while it might further mess up my original Top Twelve Anime List, I think I’ve got another favorite to add.
Best line: (Marco) “Even if you’re overcome by unspeakable loneliness, endure it and encourage someone who can follow where you left off.”
