Movie Review: Tron: Legacy (A Brief Review)
And by brief, I mean really brief. I’m currently working on a late review for Strange Horizons, which will be my take on the worldbuilding. However, since I quite enjoyed the film, I wanted you all to have my scores for the various aspect of the films, which I usually do at the end of every review. I’ll post a very brief explanation under each. Directing: 3/5 Kosinski gets okay performances out of the cast, but his new director shoes are definitely showing. I hope his work on The Black Hole remake is better (the same guy who wrote The Clash of the Titans is attached to the project, though, so I don’t have high hopes). It would suck something awful to remake a classic and give us, well, room temperature scifi water. He’s not a terrible director, like Uwe Boll, but hopefully we’ll see improvement from here on out. Cast: 3.5/5 The case is decent. Bridges is not at his best, but nobody is awful in this movie. That’s a plus. It’s not bad casting, but they’re not used well. The fellow behind Castor is brilliant, though, even if he is insanely eccentric. Writing: 3.75/5 Yes, the plot is simple, but since worldbuilding is a part of the writing, they get a huge bump up for creating a really brilliant world, and a plot that actually makes sense. Simple may not be what people want, but it’s better than creating an overcomplicated mess. Legacy isn’t a mess. It’s logical. All of it. Visuals: 4.75/5 Overall, the visuals are amazing. They’ve done a fine job weaving the world together. The only flaw I think is worth mentioning is that sometimes young Bridges looks a little too computerized. They’re still impressive effects in general, but there are moments where things aren’t where they should be. Adaptation: N/A It’s not an adaptation of anything, per se. Overall: 3.75/5 Value: $9.75 (based on a $10.50 max)(this number is based on movie ticket value) I loved the film. I’d recommend science fiction fans to see it with the intention of watching a fun movie. Don’t go into this expecting Inception or Sunshine. It’s good cyberpunk fun!
Movie Review: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part One
It’s finally here: the first part of the official end of the Harry Potter series. The books have long since passed, but fans that need their Harry Potter fix still have two movies left with which to indulge themselves. And the fans seem to know it if box office numbers have anything to say on the matter. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (part one) pulled in $125 million in the U.S. on its first weekend alone, and over $200 million extra internationally, smashing the franchise record of $102 million domestically for Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. That number is nothing to scoff at either, especially considering the controversy over the splitting of the final book into two films. Fans of the books often wondered how they were going to pull off The Deathly Hallows back when we all thought there was only going to be one movie; the book, after all, is 784 pages long, and as much as the filmmakers have cut from previous books, doing so for The Deathly Hallows is incredibly tricky considering the number of plotlines needed to fulfill the agenda set up in The Half-blood Prince. For that reason alone, The Deathly Hallows (part one) is perhaps the closest an HP film has come to the original source material since the original two films (directed by Chris Columbus). Coupled with the two movie split, this is a huge gamble. If you’re going to split a movie in half, you have to justify that by creating a complete narrative that avoids leaving the audience with a cliffhanger, but is also open enough to warrant seeing the final installment. The Deathly Hallows (part one) comes close to meeting this task, though knowing whether the film is truly effective depends on what happens in the final half of the sequence. Still, what The Deathly Hallows (part one) offers fans is an action-packed fantasy film that doesn’t forget its core audience and sets the stage for the true climax of the series in part two. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (part one) drops the audience right where The Half-Blood Prince left them: in darkness. Voldemort has risen to power, influencing and threatening the safety of the wizarding world. The Ministry of Magic is rapidly trying to control public hysteria, mudbloods (wizards born of muggle parents) are being targeted and killed by Voldemort’s army, and Harry Potter is in greater danger than he ever was before. But Harry Potter and his friends have a job to do: they have to find the last few horcruxes—the pieces of Voldemort’s soul that prevent the Dark Lord from completely dying—and destroy them so as to end Voldemort’s reign and bring things back to the way they were. And in their journey they’ll discover more about themselves, the world around them, and what they must do and sacrifice to protect everything they hold dear. The Deathly Hallows is perhaps one of the darkest of the Harry Potter films, even when compared to The Order of the Phoenix. Unlike previous films, the government-level adjustments to wizarding society in The Deathly Hallows are manipulated directly by Voldemort, instead of by the fear of what people are often unwilling to acknowledge (in the case of the wizards in The Order of the Phoenix, it is the fear of Voldemort’s return, which, of course, proves to be a somewhat ironic fear, since it more or less plays into Voldemort’s hands). The result is a more personal kind of darkness: characters betray one another—even people you’d never expect—proving that it has become increasingly more difficult in this world to know who to trust; likewise, people quickly begin to sacrifice their freedoms in the fear of something they feel helpless to resolve. Astute viewers will immediately begin to draw parallels between The Deathly Hallows and our own world, particularly given the changes in the last few months in the U.S. and elsewhere. Unlike our world, however, the one presented in The Deathly Hallows is reasonably projected from Voldemort’s rapid removal of wizarding society’s security blankets. Hogwarts is no longer the safe haven it had always been, even given the handful of dangerous incidences that have occurred there over the franchise. For Harry and his companions, this is doubly problematic, because what The Half-blood Prince showed them is that Voldemort can get to them no matter where they go. The Deathly Hallows continues this trend to even greater effect—without security blankets, Harry, Hermione, and Ron are both on the run and more desperate than ever to find the horcruxes they need to destroy Voldemort for good, because sooner or later, Voldemort and his men will find them and kill them. The shift in tone, beginning most clearly with The Order of the Phoenix and culminating in The Deathly Hallows, coupled with the radical change of scenery, also make possible the ramping up of the action that has been teasing us for six movies. There are fewer restrictions on the characters, good and evil–both because of the conditions of the emerging world and the original source material–and this freedom is reflected clearly in the action. Duels are rugged and uncontrolled—an obvious contrast to the previous six films, all of which take place in the confines of school and the educational structure. Likewise, The Deathly Hallows is unfettered by a narrative dominated by children, not simply because the main characters are now practically adults; if anyone remembers the enormous duel between Dumbledore and Voldemort—and loved it as much as I did—then they’ll be equally pleased with The Deathly Hallows, where advanced levels of magic are in higher frequency and presented in situations entirely external from the school, thus adding a certain degree of realism to the story. That is to say that magic in The Deathly Hallows is not centered on training in a school, but on using it to achieve one’s personal goals, whether that be murder, manipulation, or pleasure. For example, we see the polyjuice potion
Movie Review: 2081
When I first heard about 2081, an independent film adaptation of Kurt Vonnegut’s “Harrison Bergeron,” earlier in the year, I had high hopes that something good would come of it. I am always skeptical of adaptations of science fiction works largely because they have been periodically butchered by Hollywood producers for decades. But after seeing the trailer, I had a feeling that this would be a film to see, and when I was offered the chance to review the DVD, I jumped on it. And? I’m happy to say that I am not disappointed. 2081 is both an excellent adaptation of Vonnegut’s short story and a visually arresting, emotionally-charged film that makes the most of its modest runtime (25 minutes). It succeeds where, sadly, most full-length science fiction films have not by presenting a self-contained, complicated (but not convoluted) plot in a developed and fully-realized future. 2081 is set in a world where true equality is mandated by law. The strong must wear weights so that they aren’t stronger than anyone else; the intelligent wear transmitters that send loud, distracting sounds into their heads to keep them from being more intelligent; and the beautiful must wear masks, lest their beauty afford them an advantage over others. Vonnegut’s vision of the future conjoins equality politics and government intervention, pushing them both to their limit. 2081 presents Vonnegut’s world in detail, changing the original story only when necessary and leaving the main thrust of Vonnegut’s narrative, and the ultimate social critique within it, intact. From a film perspective, this is risky, because faithful adaptations (or even semi-faithful adaptations) often flounder due to the untranslatable elements that exist within stories. But 2081 succeeds, partly because of its length and partly because of the cleverness of the creators; instead of drawing the story out into a full-length film or drastically changing the plot or characters, the creators of 2081 instead add minor details to thicken the social critique and keep the story contained within a thirty-minute time span, which prevents already thin narrative elements from being dragged out to infinity. These two elements create a vision that is perhaps darker than the satirical “Harrison Bergeron,” but equally as poignant and gripping. Much of what I perceived as the humor (dark though it may be) in the original story seems to have been lost in the film, but to the benefit of the story, rather than to its detriment. 2081 is supposed to threaten our sense of security, both in our biological makeup and natural right to advantage, and in our strong hold on the protected nuclear family (social Darwinism vs. capitalism’s influence on the nuclear family as the family unit we see today). Drawing out the influence of family on Vonnegut’s narrative and making it far more central and troubling than in the original story makes 2081 into a powerful family tragedy, since the struggles of a family (and father) to remember a lost loved one amidst handicaps that make such remembrance impossible suggest undertones of Alzheimer’s disease–the primary difference being that 2081‘s future is preventable. But the strength of the narrative is not the film’s only strong point. From a visual perspective, 2081 is modest, but expertly crafted. To be fair, “Harrison Bergeron” is not an intergalactic tale, nor an extravagantly scenic one. All of its scenes are set in relatively simple locations: a home and a theater, for example. But these locations are handled well and serve to enhance the more technological aspects of the presented world–the high point of the visuals for me. Televisions are updated to be slightly more interactive and noticeably more advanced (one of the characters fixes the television at the beginning of the film to highlight this); even the programs on the TV are shifted so that we get a sense of Vonnegut’s world both from the interaction of the two primary characters and from the world outside as relayed from a proxy device (the TV). Likewise, the machinery that makes everyone “equal” is marked by lighted displays (CGed as far as I can tell), presumably to suggest that there are details to be seen there that we don’t actually need to see to get the point (except, perhaps, to remind us that the removal of these devices comes with a heavy penalty, which implies that the government is always watching). All of these minor changes to the objects are handled with care in a way that many science fiction films are incapable of doing: they are not gimmicks or CG-extravagant monstrosities to light up the screen, but accessories to heighten the impact of the world. However, the film does not stop there. It becomes obvious throughout who the central figure is, not just because the character in question receives the most screen time, but noticeably because the screen itself distorts as the “equality” machinery works to keep his intellectual capacities at bay. These distortions are nothing new in science fiction (let alone film in general), but are used, much like the slight alterations to the technology presented on screen, to highlight the severity of the reality of 2081‘s future. We, like the characters, are regularly disoriented by these shifts, but only for a moment; the result is that we are left with the truth, while the characters are subjected to full disorientation. But effective disorientation requires good acting, and 2081 delivers just that. James Cosmo (as George Bergeron) is superb here; Cosmo has moments where we can both hear and see the tremendous weight left on his character’s shoulders by a tragic past and the world itself (literally and metaphorically). For a story with very little dialogue, 2081 has to relay a great deal of its emotive power through facial and bodily expression, which Cosmo displays with great aptitude. Even Julie Hagerty (known best, perhaps, for her role in Airplane! some thirty years ago) fulfills her role as Hazel Bergeron with such success, playing the somewhat dimwitted un-handicapped wife/mother with skill (Hazel even has a kind of charm that both amuses and annoys). Armie Hammer as Harrison Bergeron, though in the
Inception, An Addendum: Emotion
Last week, I reviewed Inception and mentioned that I intended to see the film again and write some more about it. Now that I’ve seen it a second time, I think there are three things that need to be discussed about the film: emotional maturity, the state of narrative ambiguity, and the music. All three have been discussed by film critics and fans, but I think that they are all important enough to address further, particularly because of what Inception might very well represent for science fiction film (i.e. a revolution of sorts). But because these three things deserve considerable attention, I’m going to break them up into three posts. First up is motion. Inception: Emotionally Bereft or Misunderstood? One of the things that Inception has been attacked for is its supposed lack of emotional maturity. Visually, the film is gorgeous and the narrative elements are quite intriguing and complex, but when you separate those elements from the film’s intended impact, it does become somewhat obvious that the emotional overtones are, perhaps, weakened, if not by the very nature of the kind of film Inception is, then at least by Nolan’s desire to present a narrative that does not give clean answers. Cobb is really the only significant character that is given a developed emotional narrative, while secondary characters like Fischer display emotion only at key moments, and without actual development. The latter of these scenarios, however, seems to me to be entirely intentional and to serve a point. Cobb’s narrative is our focal point, and we’re supposed to assume that his development is linear (to a point); everything else is washed into the background because Cobb is the only one whose emotional relationships actually influence everything around him. Further supporting this is the fact that we know that the emotional development for Fischer is entirely artificial: it is literally created from nothingness, and, thus, intentionally sudden and intentionally non-linear. Depending on how you interpret Inception, you could argue that Cobb’s development is also artificial, but the problem with that interpretation is that it relies on an incredible leap of faith based on a handful of narrative clues that are intensely ambiguous. The reality is that Cobb’s narrative, regardless of your interpretation, is linear and serves as a counterpoint to Fischer’s narrative, which suggests, I think, that when emotion is fabricated, it must necessarily lose its potency. What I disagree with in regards to Inception, however, are the various claims that the film “emotionally barren.” Yes, the emotional tensions are not as high as they could be, but what matters in Inception is that what we’re dealing with is a tour into the psyche in the most psychoanalytic/psychological sense. Inception is built like an impossibly complicated wall of layers. The layers bleed into one another; clues lie buried in places you didn’t expect them to be, things occur and progress in ways that shatter previously standardized layers, and the narrative progression follows these layers as best it can to the climax, which is, in and of itself, fabricated from the deterioration of Cobb’s mental health. What Inception gives us is a psychological treatment for the human psyche, bereft in part of emotion precisely because of the overwhelming quality of the emotions being suppressed. Cobb is a man whose past is mired in mistakes and the most disrupting of regrets, all of which he has tried to suppress within himself to do what so many of us do when we can’t cope with what we’ve done or have seen: divorce ourselves from it. To say that Inception is emotionally bereft, then, is to miss the point of the movie. Of course Inception lacks emotional depth; the focal point of the movie is a man who is psychologically ruined, who cannot face his past, who cannot hold the same emotional ties to the real world that he did before, and who, inevitably, finds that his psyche is more willing to break down his barriers against emotion and force him to face his reality than he is. The end of film, thus, offers an ambiguous but emotionally clear message by showing Cobb’s admittance to his mistakes and rejection of his past. It’s an ending that suggests that the uncontrollable parts of ourselves (i.e. the subconscious) have a stake in our actions and our emotions. Inception is not an emotionless film, but a film that is about finding those emotions beneath a suppressive wall of guilt and fear, and about breaking down those walls to find one’s way back to “reality.” All of the above is how I view Inception’s emotional overtones. But as many have pointed out, this film is open to an endless sea of interpretations.
Movie Review: Inception
There is only one movie I have been literally ecstatic about seeing, which is not something that happens to me very often. That movie is Inception. I can’t quite explain why, except to say that the marketing team behind Inception managed to utterly captivate me with their trailers and strong attempts at keeping secret the details of what I am calling “Nolan’s masterpiece.” Point is, the moment I heard about Inception, I was hooked, and I have spent the last three or four months waiting for what I hoped would be the best movie of the entire year, let alone the best science fiction movie in decades. And you know what Inception provided? Everything I could have ever wanted and more. It is, in my opinion, the best movie of the year and is easily in my top ten best science fiction movies of all time. Calling Inception “Nolan’s masterpiece” is an understatement. It is a tour de force, a feat of monumental cinematic proportions. For those that had doubts about Nolan’s ability to escape the brilliant success of The Dark Knight, Inception proves you wrong, because it is the one movie that I think defines Nolan as an expert filmmaker, as the kind of writer and director that can actually produce high quality original material and direct it at a level that certain other filmmakers haven’t been able to do since the beginning of their careers (I’m looking at you M. Night Shyamalan). Inception is, to put it more simply, a must see. Now for my review (after the fold): Describing Inception is difficult. I am writing this review with the intention of leaving out the specifics, partly because I think everyone should see this movie and partly because doing so could potentially ruin the experience of discovery that I received while watching it. With that in mind, I am going to steal the synopsis from IMDB to give you a better impression of the plot of the movie: Dom Cobb is a skilled thief, the absolute best in the dangerous art of extraction, stealing valuable secrets from deep within the subconscious during the dream state, when the mind is at its most vulnerable. Cobb’s rare ability has made him a coveted player in this treacherous new world of corporate espionage, but it has also made him an international fugitive and cost him everything he has ever loved. Now Cobb is being offered a chance at redemption. One last job could give him his life back but only if he can accomplish the impossible-inception. Instead of the perfect heist, Cobb and his team of specialists have to pull off the reverse: their task is not to steal an idea but to plant one. If they succeed, it could be the perfect crime. But no amount of careful planning or expertise can prepare the team for the dangerous enemy that seems to predict their every move. An enemy that only Cobb could have seen coming. Inception is one of those rare movies that makes you think while entertaining you, something that doesn’t happen all that often. Right from the start, the movie slams you head first into the complex world that Nolan has created, showing you how things work, how difficult and detailed everything is, and how much time and energy Nolan undoubtedly put into every aspect of the film, from the cast to the situation to the visuals. It becomes clear right that what is to follow (i.e. the primary narrative) will be a complicated, but thoroughly engaging event. And it is. The deeper Nolan takes us into the intricate web of his dream worlds, the more amazingly complicated, strange, and exciting things become. The progression of the primary narrative is smooth and timed perfectly (often for good reason) and the climax is probably one of the most brilliantly suspenseful moments I have seen on film (you’ll have to watch to understand what I mean). Characters “die,” even important ones, and the more complex the climax becomes, building up like a spiderweb or layering like a quantum pie, the more obvious the danger that everyone is in becomes–one wrong movie and everything will come crumbling down. The narrative, thankfully, is well-supported by two things: a fantastic cast and amazing visuals. The latter of these demonstrates precisely why only certain directors should use CG, because Nolan clearly understands where using CG is best placed and where using physical mediums is superior. Inception is a combination of both, in the sense that some action sequences are done almost entirely without CG, and others are not (the latter of these are typically scenes that simply cannot be done without CG). The appropriate lack of CG is no small feat. Entire action sequences that would likely be made easier on the actors and the director by reducing it all to a CGed mess are instead done with what we assume are expertly-handled wires and ingenious contraptions. An example of this is actually in the trailers, where we see Joseph Gordon-Levitt flying down or climbing up the walls of a hotel hallway. The entire sequence is brilliant, but even that snippet shows you just how important realism is to Nolan. He wants his vision to encapsulate the wonder of the dream, while also invoking believability; without that, the entire film would crash to the ground, because once the audience no longer suspends its disbelief, there is nothing left to tell or do but drawn one’s own inadequacies.. From an acting standpoint, the film is well cast. DeCaprio’s (Cobb) slight dislike for science fiction doesn’t show as he delivers a believable character with a troubled past and an emotional mission. Gordon-Levitt (Arthur), surprisingly, not only demonstrates his often ignored ability to do something other that “teen comedy,” but shows viewers, I think, that he is capable of pulling off action heroes. There was never a moment when I questioned whether Arthur was the right fit for Gordon-Levitt; he just seemed to fit. Ken Watanabe
Movie Review: Robin Hood
I had high hopes for this addition to the Robin Hood canon. The trailers promised a new take on the folktale and lots of action. And it gives you a bit of both, but it does so with a lackluster plot, poor character development, and some uneven acting. Consider this my short review, because everything after the movie poster will contain spoilers. Robin Hood is actually a prequel. You wouldn’t know from the trailers, though. In fact, my friend and I didn’t know it was a prequel until the end of the movie. It takes place during the Crusades. King Richard the Lionheart has been waging war for ten years while his brother, Prince John, and his mother, are taking care of the kingdom in England. Robin Longstride (a.k.a. Robin Hood) is an ordinary archer in King Richard’s army who, along with his companions, has fallen out of favor with the King. When King Richard is killed by an arrow, Robin and his companions make an escape for England, masquerading as knights to report the news back to Prince John (now the King). John, however, is not the King everyone wants him to be and plots from France to take over England have the English turning against the King and their fellow countrymen. Robin will have to unite the people before the King and the French destroy everything.Robin Hood had potential. The concept was a good one, the possibility of good character development was there, and returning to this franchise was a good chance to show some beautiful landscapes. The film succeeds in only the last of these possibilities. Visually, Robin Hood is gorgeous. The costumes look wonderful, even when they’re dirty, and the landscapes and cinematography are stunning. I am surprised that there are still so many places in the world that have barely been touched by humans, and even more surprised that some of these places still look unfamiliar. The rest of the movie, however, is loaded with problems. The cast is a mixed bag. Russell Crowe is flat and lifeless, which clashes with the often humorous secondary characters (Little John, Will Scarlet, Marion, and so on). Other characters either have no screen time whatsoever, but yet are important to the plot, or are portrayed as stereotypes. Prince John is your typical stuck up rich royalty who knows sod all about being King; if they were going to update Robin Hood’s story, they could have made John less of a petulant child–it seemed like they were drawing too much on the Disney animated feature from decades back. Most of the clergy are equally typical, which is probably true, but still lazy storytelling. The best characters are actually the second characters; the actors that play Little John, Will Scarlet, and so on all seem to have wonderful chemistry, and their on-screen antics make for a lot of laughs. If only more of this chemistry could have existed between other actors. Character development, unfortunately also takes a hit. This is primarily due to the plot, which felt rushed in the last three quarters of the movie. Characters magically develop skills that they didn’t seem to have before. Marion, for example, becomes a warrior woman in the end, which is laughable not because she’s a woman, but because she is never displayed as being warrior-like–stern and collected does not equal woman knight. Likewise, the strange thieves from the forest, who have been stealing from Marion and her family for months, all of sudden join forces with Marion to fight the French at the end of the movie. Why? No idea. How did they manage to agree on things? Ditto. But it’s integral to the ending, because without a truce with the people of the forest, Robin Hood would never be Robin Hood. And then there’s the last minutes of the movie, in which King John, having managed to unite his people against the French by promising them liberty, reneges on his promise, which sparks little more than a few complaints. The problem? King John had to promise liberty because his people were about to wage war against him. Yet, in the end, no war. How odd that the people just magically give in when they were seconds from fighting the King only a few weeks before. These are just a few of the problems with the movie. Overall, while I have to say that I did enjoy it, I also feel like it could have been so much better. The first three quarters of the movie aren’t bad, and I did really like the angle of the French invasion, but you can’t take a decent start and throw out the cinema cookbook in the end. Endings are as important as beginnings, and if one of them fails, the whole movie goes to crap. This is definitely not one of Ridley Scott’s best. If you plan to see Robin Hood, go to a matinee, or wait for it to hit DVD–maybe they’ll have some extra footage that will clear up some of the illogical plot elements. Directing: 2.50/5Cast: 2.75/5Writing: 1.0/5Visuals: 4.5/5Adaptation: N/A (I don’t know enough about Robin Hood beyond the various other films out there)Overall: 2.6875/5Value: $5.00 (based on a $10.50 max)