review: up

Three things to note before I begin my review: (1) Most importantly, I will be discussing the film in full, including spoilers and ruining surprises in the film, so continue reading at your own risk. Or come back and read it after you've seen the movie. (2) Many critics in the blogosphere are claiming that Pixar's Up is the funniest film the company has made to date, but I don't recall crying in Monster's Inc. or Toy Story (though, at times, they did pull at my heart strings). There are indeed humorous parts in the film, but they are not counterbalanced evenly by the somber parts. For the most part, Up is a meditation on grieving and the impermanence of life. But the real, more Up-lifting message of the movie, without any trace of cliché, is that the journey far surpasses the destination. (3) I cried five times during the movie -- FIVE -- and I loved every minute of it. Pixar created a near-perfect film. I would only put WALL-E and Monster's Inc. above it.

Synopsis: Up follows the adventures of grumpy ol' Carl Fredricksen, modeled after Walter Matthau and Spencer Tracy, and stow-away Wilderness Explorer Russell as they head to the (unfortunately) fictional Paradise Falls to fulfill Fredricksen's long-forgotten dream of traveling. Using thousands of helium-inflated balloons, Mr. Fredricksen's house is lifted high into the skies as the primary vehicle for their adventure. Russell and Mr. Fredricksen's already onerous journey is interrupted by Kevin (a female bird, named by Russell), Dug (a dog with a collar enabling his thoughts to be heard -- "Squirrel!"), and Charles Muntz, an explorer and Mr. Fredricksen's childhood hero. After returning from an exploration with the bones of an unknown bird, Muntz was declared a fraud and he disappeared, vowing not to return until he had captured the live bird and redeemed his reputation. Mr. Fredricksen has to choose between saving the meddlesome Russell and his pet Kevin, reaching Paradise Falls before the helium deflates, or helping his childhood hero capture the bird.

The power of silence: For anyone who's been paying attention, Pixar has an unparalleled brilliance in the art of silence. All of their film's preceding shorts are entirely silent -- "Geri's Game" is still my favorite -- and WALL-E took this devotion to storytelling in a lengthier direction. Up also contains an element of silence, and although it's only five minutes long, it is by far the most affecting.

First of all, we are introduced to Carl Fredricksen as a child. The film opens with him watching new reel footage of Charles Muntz's career. Dressed in an aviator hat and goggles and holding a blue balloon, he comes across an abandoned home -- not unlike the old Granville house in It's a Wonderful Life, another home of great symbolic meaning -- where he meets a young and very talkative girl named Ellie. Young Carl is stunned not only by her vivacity but by her shared adoration for Charles Muntz. Not once do we hear Carl talk, which is important because it is the older, grieving Carl with whom the audience is supposed to identify and not the younger, dream-filled child. One night, a blue balloon enters Carl's bedroom window, followed by Ellie and an incomplete scrapbook, waiting to be detailed with great adventures. She makes Carl promise to take her to Paradise Falls -- to cross his heart -- a promise that we soon learn he failed to keep.

What follows is a five minute silent montage of Ellie and Carl's marriage and life together, from painting a mailbox with their handprints to learning that they are unable to have children. They have moved into the old Granville house, as I shall refer to it, and we see them washing windows from opposite sides (her smile becomes a reflection of his), Carl working as a balloon salesman and Ellie as a bird handler, and putting extra coins into a Paradise Falls jar. Other financial obligations force them to repeatedly break the jar, and the dream of visiting Paradise Falls become a faint memory as Ellie grows weaker and dies of old age. After her death, cleaning the windows becomes a reminder of loneliness as Ellie's smile is not there to greet him, and the mailbox with their interlocking handprints becomes a physical reminder of their time together. Carl spends his days in a chair next to Ellie's chair.

Within the first twenty minutes of the movie, I was crying. Not just one tear, but many. And it was the power in the montage's storytelling that kept me emotionally tied to the misunderstood Mr. Fredricksen throughout the movie. He was merely a man who missed his wife, and he refused to change any material thing in her absence. It was only the threat of being moved to a retirement home and the recollection of a cross-your-heart promise that prompted him to do the impossible -- travel to Paradise Falls with the house that he and Ellie made into a home.

The house: Essentially, Up is both a coming of age tale (for Russell) and an unfinished love story (for Carl, who is still dealing with the loss of his wife). Russell, a child of divorce, is the perfect company for Carl as both of them are dealing with the weight of loss -- represented by the house, which both tie to their waists as a means of keeping it from floating away. The house represents family, something that Russell and Carl both feel is lacking in their lives, and the house is a constant physical manifestation of that loss. Only after carrying the burden of the house and becoming friends in the process are either of them able to regain purpose.

The house also, of course, represents Ellie. As her picture hangs on the wall in the living room, Carl often talks to it -- the picture specifically and the house generally -- and it looks to both Russell and the audience as though Carl perceives the house to be his wife. And it is. Every inch of that house contains a reminder of Ellie -- a bird she once painted, her scrapbook of memories, her chair, her picture on the wall, etc. When Carl initially takes flight, he steers his house in the living room where young Ellie pretended to take the reigns of a flying blimp. And the implausibility of a flying house -- by balloons, no less -- is ignored because of what the house represents. The film's use of balloons clearly orchestrates a life-long connection between Ellie and trying to reach for your dreams, but it's also a visual personification of Ellie floating towards the heavens and Carl trying to keep her close to the ground. Carl and Russell eventually reach Paradise Falls, but they are on the wrong side of the canyon and have limited time to take the house to its proper location before the helium in the balloons runs out. The helium, then, becomes a metaphor for time. Just like sand in an hourglass, time is escaping and Carl is constantly reminded of that burden.

This leads me to another point in the movie in which I began to cry: Exasperated and lacking time himself, Muntz lights Carl's house on fire to deter Carl from following him. It wasn't just a house on fire; it was Ellie. Luckily for us, the house does not burn down and Carl is able to place the home in its rightful place. Russell, however, has been kidnapped by Muntz and are floating back to the States with the exotic bird, Kevin, with them. Carl sits down in his chair -- next to Ellie's chair, in the very spot he crossed-his-heart he would take her -- and he can't be at peace because he knows that Russell, who has becomes Carl's new family, needs him. In order to make his house fly again, Carl unloads his house (and thus his baggage, his past), leaving all material items in a heap outside. All save two items, his and Ellie's chairs, which are set upright beside the heap of furniture. Insert waterworks again.

The importance of family: Before Carl discovers that Russell's been kidnapped, he leafs through Ellie's childhood scrapbook. He finds momentos of her married life with Carl, as well as a final note thanking him for their own adventure (life) and then encouraging him to go have his own. I somehow found a way to hold back the tears at this moment, but then Carl goes to the door looking for Russ and finds Dug, who says, "I was hiding under the porch because I love you." And then I began crying. Dug was once an additional burden for Fredricksen, but now he has been accepted as a loving companion who chooses to go on an adventure with Fredricksen even when he wasn't wanted. The familial presence of Dug is only heightened by Kevin, who, as a bird, becomes an extension of Ellie. Ellie was a bird handler and created a wooden bird, one of the many items Carl tries to salvage throughout the narrative, and so it only seems appropriate that he extends his love of Ellie onto Kevin, who becomes a temporary replacement for his wife. At the end of the adventure, Carl has to say goodbye to Kevin and release her back with her family, just as he had to say goodbye to Ellie.

The importance of dreams: One of the many, many morals of this movie is that dreams, whether realized or not, are important and that sometimes we embark on journeys without even realizing it. John Lennon once said, "Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans." At one particularly profound moment, we learn why Russell is so intent on receiving his "Help the Elderly" Wilderness Explorer badge. Since his parents' divorce, which is never stated and only alluded to, Russ never sees his father except when he's awarded a new badge. There is an empty spot on Russ's sash -- right over his heart -- where the badge will be placed. He explains to Fredricksen that afterwards, he and his dad would go to an ice cream shop and count the red and blue cars passing by. Fredricksen rolls his eyes in annoyance, but then Russ says, "I know this stuff may seem boring, but it's the boring stuff I remember." This is yet another moment when I began to cry because this, of course, mirrors the earlier montage of Fredricksen remembering the quotidian of his life with Ellie.

At the end of the film, Russ gets his badge, but his father never shows up. Then we hear a familiar grumpy voice pushing through the crowd to pin the badge on Russ's sash. It's Mr. Fredricksen, but instead of the badge, he's pinned a grape soda pop top Ellie had pinned on his lapel when they were children. Once again, Up has illustrated a deep and profound love through the passing of a material object, and I... well, you know what I did. After the ceremony, Russell and Fredricksen go to the curb of the ice cream store and count the red and blue cars passing by. In a quick montage, the film closes with the future adventures of Russ and Fredricksen, two lost persons who found a new family and new dreams to have together.

Russell had the dream to get his Wilderness Explorers badge, which was really an excuse for him to spend time with his absent father, and Fredricksen had the dream to go to Paradise Falls with Ellie. Both of these dreams were important to the individuals who held them, but both were able to see the new adventures right before them.

review: angels and demons

I am going to preface my review by saying that I used to mock my father -- and still do, really -- every time he shouts "I've been there!" during a location shot in movies. Italy, France, Turkey, England... he's been to many a far off lands, so imagine how often I've had to endure the phrase, "I've been there!" But then something happened. He took me to England. He took me to France. And he took me to Italy. So now whenever I see the Gherkin or Piazza San Marco, I exclaim with childish glee, "I've been there!" and he becomes the one mocking me. I went to see Angels and Demons with him yesterday (as well as my equally well-traveled mother), and having walked around Rome with the explicit intent of following the path laid out in Dan Brown's novel, I sat in my seat, squirming and beaming with extreme sensory recognition. Raphael's Chigi Chapel. Bernini's St. Teresa in Ecstasy in Santa Maria della Vittoria. Raphael's tomb and the occulus in the Pantheon. The Baldacchino (which rests above St. Peter's tomb) in St. Peter's Cathedral. Between receiving my undergraduate degree in art history and walking the exact path of protagonist Robert Langdon, I was geeking out throughout the entire movie, suppressing the urge to scream "I've been there!" over and over and over again.

With that said, I have no idea if this is a good movie. I walked away feeling pleased, but that's because I've been there and there and there. Some quick notes: First, Ayelet Zurer, who plays the female lead Vittoria, is infinitely better cast than Audrey Tautou in The da Vinci Code. Second, this film is heavy on exposition -- but, unlike Duplicity, the scenes move along quickly and the narrative unfolds at an entertaining pace -- and, although I had no personal dissatisfaction with it, I can understand how anyone unfamiliar with either Rome or art history might get lost along the way. Third, the film starts with a short introduction to CERN and their large hadron collider, which is one of my favorite things ever. The science behind the scene is reductive and oversimplified, but I suppose that's necessary to move the plot along. Still, this allows me a good opportunity to share some links:

• The science behind Angels and Demons, including, while unrelated to the film, whether or not the LHC creates black holes.
• Has the Large Hadron Collider Destroyed the World Yet? This is a website to check. Daily.
• CERN's easy explanation of antimatter.
• Some breathtaking photos of the LHC. Who says technology can't also be art?

And lastly, the film explains the Illuminati's mission in one scene, and if you happen to zone out during that scene or leave to use the restroom, you will miss the secret organization's motive. Also, Langdon does not explain -- at all, if I'm remembering correctly -- why the eye, obelisk, or pyramid are associated with the Illuminati. He just says, "An eye within a pyramid! The sign of the Illuminati!" and you're supposed to accept it. On the plus side, the film revisits the science vs. faith dichotomy enough times that even if you don't understand who exactly the Illuminati were, you at least know why they existed.

The film, of course, made damn sure that it offended neither religious people nor atheists, which actually disappointed me. (Not that the film wasn't insulting, but because there was no real debate between any of the characters.) The head Swiss guard and the camerlengo are quick to point out Langdon's atheism, but he has a private audience with church officials at the end that makes everything copasetic. The political correctness just seemed a little forced. Many members of the papal court -- particularly the head cardinal -- are suggested to have a duplicitous nature (he's religious but with immoral motivations!), but there are many positive conversations about the necessity of faith and religion. As an agnostic, I always appreciated Dan Brown's handling of this debate, and I was sad that my favorite part of the book was not included in the film.(*) In the book, the camerlengo (played in the film by Ewan McGregor) grabs a news reporter's microphone and gives a message to those watching coverage of the papal conclave. Included in that message, he says to the non-believers, "You look at the stars and you say, 'How can there be a God?' I look at the stars and I say, 'How can there not be a God?'"(**) I've always referred back to this scene when people ask me to explain why I'm agnostic (which they incorrectly perceive as "fence-sitting").

(*) Although this scene was not in the film, there are other scenes that state quite plainly that science and religion are not, or should not, be contradictory.
(**) I do not have a copy of the book on me at the moment, and I have not read the book in a few years. This is a scene that I pulled from memory, so there is a good chance the wording is entirely incorrect.

I'm fairly certain I enjoyed the film, though I know others may not be as forgiving as I am. Whenever my brain contemplated a plot hole (the set-up of the goose chase is pretty implausible, considering the limitations of the villain), I just remembered Bernini's sculptures. When the movie was over, I ran into a friend who said she was less than impressed, but then, she's never been to Rome.

The Vatican? I've been there.

living at the cineplex

I've seen a lot of movies in the last two weeks, and instead of doing individual reviews of them (especially since they're a bit late), I'm only going to write a few words on them. In short, the only movie worth seeing again is 17 Again.

Wolverine: For science-fiction fans, origins stories are always a highlight. In most sci-fi narratives, the story begins in the middle (as with the Star Wars trilogy) or at the end (as with most post-apocalyptic tales, such as I Am Legend). Starting in the middle creates intrigue about the character and how they got to this point, and Wolverine is one of the most interesting characters of the X-Men universe. So I'm absolutely flabbergasted that no one even tried to make this into a good movie. Every step along the way, there was some producer going, "This doesn't need to be good; we've got Hugh Jackman!" (1) Wolverine's awesome name, which refers to his primal and animalistic qualities, was appropriated from his girlfriend's Native American story about a jealous moon? What? Seriously? (2) We see Wolverine's original claws, which were rounded and made of bone. It makes absolutely no sense then, that adding adamantium to his skeletal structure would sharpen the blades into sharp killer knives. (3) The good/bad duality was so transparent, obvious, and no additional element was added to it to make it interesting. Wolverine's good; his brother's bad. (4) The action scenes didn't even try to be realistic. One particular shot had Action-Jackman walking away from an explosion, and I swear the shot was created circa 1978. Jackman's face and bad hair fill the frame as fire explodes behind him. Another scene has Ryan Reynolds splitting a bullet with his sword -- I repeat, splitting a bullet with his sword -- and the fractured bullets end up killing two guards behind him. Ridiculous. (5) Speaking of Ryan Reynolds, I don't recall the name "Deadpool" ever being uttered, but the ending of the film sets him up for a sequel. Really, Hollywood? Was this sequel created with the sole intent on formulating another sequel? (6) Overall, it was an entertaining film and, since I saw it as a double-feature and paid only $4.75 for the show, I was able to ignore that two hours of my life were stolen from me. But it's not a good movie. It's not a good story. The relationship aspects (whether with Wolverine's brother or his girlfriend) were poorly constructed. The best part of the film was the opening credits (though nothing will ever top the Watchmen credits), and after that, it lacks creativity (even the big show-down at the end of the film is a mash-up of previous action movies) and never takes off. As far as action films go (and let's be honest, they have different criteria of quality than other genres), I'd give it a C/C+.

Observe and Report: I really didn't get this movie at all. It's a satire that didn't seem to know it was a satire. Seth Rogen plays a mall cop infatuated with Anna Faris's character (I've only ever seen her play one type of character, and I despise the character every time), and he believes that catching the mall flasher will somehow win her heart. Except... he takes her one of the most disgusting dates I've ever seen half-way through the movie, and he doesn't exactly grow by the end of it. The whole point of watching a movie about a useless bum is that eventually he turns his life around or grows up or learns something. And he doesn't. Also -- spoiler alert -- he shoots the flasher. He doesn't catch him; he shoots him. (And really, this is the only scene that suggests the movie's an absurdist satire.) The worst part of the movie, though, was Michael Peña as an offensively stereotypical portrayal of a sexually-ambiguous Mexican with a lisp. There were parts of the movie that were funny, but overall, I look back on the experience and think... what was the point of any of it? Other than sucking my brain out through my eyeballs. I do not recommend this movie to anyone (seriously, who was their target demographic with this?), and I'd give it a D-.

Duplicity: This movie was 90% exposition and 10% Clive Owen looking really good in suits. (And when I think back on the film, there's only 10% of it I care to remember...) In short, Julia Roberts and Clive Owen's characters team up as romantic partners to con two competing corporations for the "ultimate con job." They are CIA agents working for Paul Giamatti's company (and he is completely wasted in this role), with Roberts' character infiltrating his rival's company to compete for -- wait for it -- a hair growth serum. (This was a very disappointing payoff to the biggest build-up in the movie, and I kept hoping for something more monumental to be at the center of everyone's deception. A hair growth serum? Really?) The reason why this movie was so bad is because it was redundant in its execution (exposition voiceovers over a montage of the plan being set into motion), had way too many flashbacks (all to previous romantic encounters of Roberts and Owen's relationship -- which, really, was a false setup for the nature of their relationship), and how often everyone schemes someone else. I like caper films, I do, but they only work when there is one common goal between the main characters. That's why the convoluted plot of Ocean's 11 worked, despite there being such a large cast. Throughout the movie, Roberts and Owen's characters constantly deceive and question one another, and the movie tells me that it's in their nature to do so and, furthermore, this makes them ideal partners in a romance. Umm, no. I understand that the writers were setting up a world where nothing is as it seems and no one can be trusted -- and the audience, therefore, cannot predict the ending -- but it became too much plot and not enough character development. And I won't give away the ending, but... it was suitable, both within the narrative itself (nobody wins!) and also the execution. That's right. The ending of the movie is a flashback montage with a voiceover explaining how everything lead up to the ending. I was bored out of my mind during the movie, but I can understand how other people might enjoy. It wasn't God-awful and I would only recommend it to a select handful of people, but I would never spend my time watching this movie again. I'd give it a C+.

Ghosts of Girlfriends Past: If you've read more than ten posts on this blog or you've ever met me in real life, you know two things almost immediately. I loathe romantic comedies (except for French Kiss), and Nicolas Cage is the worst actor of all time. So why would I voluntarily go see a movie that is so formulaic and saturated in verbal foreplay that even the trailer makes me retch? Because I'm a cinephile, that's why. Because most movies I see are crap, and whether I go into it knowing that or discover it while I'm watching it really makes no difference. Based off of Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol (one of my favorite narratives ever told), Ghosts follows Connor Mead, a douchebag with a douchebag name and a douchebag job, on a journey to become less of a douchebag. (Matthew McConaughey was perfectly cast, by the way.) Jennifer Garner's talents are wasted as the "girl who got away (but not so far that she won't forgive ten years of pain for one apology)." The biggest problem with this movie is that Matthew McConaughey doesn't know how to not be a douchebag, so there's no physical, verbal, or emotional growth at the end of the movie. There's just what's in the script. He's the exact same character he was at the beginning of the movie. All of the jokes are tired, and you know exactly how the movie ends. And this could have been fixed -- as much as a romantic comedy could -- by adding another conflict of interest. Connor Mead is the best man in his brother's wedding, and having slept with all of the bridesmaids, he's the most popular guy at the wedding. Even though the women despise his misogynistic ways, they still want to bed him. (There is a scene earlier in the film that mocks this notion, with a young artist telling Connor to use and dispose of her, but it was too realistic for the mocking tone to really pull through. The scene was just sad and offensive, then.) The only real problem that Connor Mead has -- like Ebeneezer Scrooge -- is himself. That leads to a very unfulfilling story, especially when the protagonist (and I use that word in its most basic form) never really changes. Sure, Garner's character is given a love interest (who is surprisingly okay with the fact he was flown in specifically for wedding sex), but they have such little screen time together that he never becomes a real conflict for our two lovebirds. And as with all romantic comedies -- you knew this part was coming, right? -- I was offended by the representation and reduction of women to sex-crazed idiots (who never seem to know how to hold their liquor). Garner's the only character to escape this representation, of course, because romantic comedies push for "authentic women" to be sexy, when really, every woman watching wants to be the other two-hundred sluts represented in the movie. As with Wolverine, I really don't think anyone was even trying to make a good movie. I'd give it an F. That's right. An F. What Michael Douglas was doing in this film is beyond me.

17 Again: I saw this as a double-feature, being the second film after Ghosts of Girlfriends Past, and out of all of the movies I've seen recently, I enjoyed this one the most. Perhaps it's because I have an unabashed crush on Zac Efron (he's just so pretty), or perhaps it's because any movie following Ghosts would look like Citizen Kane, but this movie has a lot to recommend it. But first, the bad: (1) What's more unbelievable, that Matthew Perry would be transformed into his former 17-year-old self, or that Zac Efron would grow up to look like Matthew Perry? Yeah... (2) There was a lot of creepiness floating around regarding romance. I remember watching the trailer and thinking Efron's character, Mike O'Donnell, shouldn't be protecting his daughter from a slimey boyfriend because she'll mistaken his concern for romantic affection, and... yep, that's what happens. His daughter tries to seduce him -- as a lioness, no less. Also, he hits on his ex-wife (Leslie Mann, who's remarkable in everything) in practically every scene they're in, and it's often uncomfortable to watch, even as an outsider who knows what the real situation is. (3) The age-reversal comes too early in the movie, and they don't explain why/how it happens. There's a random "spirit guide" who allows him this transformation without so much of a reason why. At least in Pleasantville, Don Knox explained why he made the switch. But once you get past, you know, the plot, the rest of the movie is smooth sailing. Now for the good: (1) Thomas Lennon (of Reno 911) steals every scene he's in as Mike's geeky best friend. He's obsessed with wooing the principal (played by The Office's Melora Hardin), and he wins her over with Lord of the Rings references and Elfish. (2) Zac Efron was able to project a "fatherly tone" quite well when he was in "father" mode around his children. He's a little too good at basketball (one scene finds him dribbling circles around his daughter's boyfriend, and the scene sticks out from the rest of the movie), but I knew there were going to be random moments displaying Efron's awesomeness going into the movie. (3) Leslie Mann is a landscaper, and the backyard she creates is AMAZING. Okay, so that has less to do with the movie more with my love of HGTV, but it's still something I enjoyed. And (5) This isn't really spoiling anything because most age-reversal movies have "the moment of honesty" (where the transformed protagonist tells his love interest the truth in a very vague way), but this film, I think, has the best moment I've seen in this genre.

"I want to remind you of September 7th, 1988. It was the first time that I saw you. You were reading Less Than Zero, and you were wearing a Guns 'n' Roses t-shirt. I'd never seen anything so perfect. I remember thinking that I had to have you or I'd die... then you whispered that you loved me at the homecoming dance, and I felt so peaceful... and safe... because I knew that no matter what happened, from that day on, nothing can ever be that bad... because I had you. And then I, uh... I grew up and I lost my way. And I blamed you for my failures."

Showing up for his divorce court date as his 17-year-old self, Efron reads a letter to his wife. Efron's delivery of the above words is surprisingly very moving, and the only reason I didn't get teary-eyed is because I was so mesmerized at the notion that Zac Efron can actually act. And of course, his soon-to-be ex-wife finds the letter later and discovers that there was no letter at all. It was a piece of paper with directions to the courthouse. I have to admit, I was very happy with this development. And lastly, (6) most movies, and in particular this genre, like to bash us over the head with a moral reveal. In Big, it was the idea that youth is fleeting and you should enjoy it while you can. Growing up and becoming an adult will eat your soul. (Or something like that.) In 13 Going on 30, it was the idea that being popular is not as important as being true to who you are. If you compromise yourself or your judgments, you will lose out on true happiness (with Mark Ruffalo). And while 17 Again has one of these morals, it's the best one I've seen from this genre. Now this I won't spoil because it's just too good, and because this is the only film on the list I'm actually recommending. I'd give this movie a B (with a smile).

review: coraline

Over the weekend, my friend Adam and I went to see the film Coraline, a stop-animation children's fantasy based on a book by science-fiction/fantasy author Neil Gaiman. Visually, the film is amazing -- better, I think, than either The Corpse Bride or The Nightmare Before Christmas. (I can say this because Coraline is made by the same team -- Laika -- headed by director Henry Selick. It's not a comparison of artistic genius, but more of a comment on how stop-animation has evolved and survived in this world that is so reliant on CGI effects.) In fact, the opening title sequence may be my favorite part; we see a doll being ripped apart and then sewn into the Coraline doll that follows our protagonist throughout the narrative. It's slightly creepy because we only see the machine-like hands of the sewer, but it's also kind of whimsical in the way that the doll is constructed and then sent out the window.

The basic plotline of the film is this: A young girl, Coraline (not Carolyn or Caroline!), moves into a new house with her dismissive and boring parents. They would rather write a book on gardening than pay any attention to their daughter. One night, Coraline finds a secret passage into an alternate world where her "other mother" is nurturing and kind, knows how to cook, and plants a garden in her honor. But not everything is as peachy as it seems, and, as the poster warns, be careful what you wish for.


Overall, I enjoyed the film -- at least well enough to recommend it to anyone. The highlights for me included the opening title sequence (in which see machine-like hands sew together a doll in Coraline's likeness), a song by They Might Be Giants (which can be heard in its entirety on iTunes), and Coraline's initial exploration into this alternate world. In one particularly enchanting scene in the alternate realm, Coraline attends a performance by Mrs. Spink and Forcible, the other attendees being their hundreds of dead Scottie dogs in angel costumes. This universe is very inventive, and I found myself envious of a candelabra that dispenses mango milkshakes and a garden of tickling snapdragons. And in an aerial view of the garden, we see that it too is in the likeness of Coraline, where the bridge of a pond because the bridge of Coraline's nose. (Does this repeated image of Coraline mean that this girl is narcissistic? If I were surrounded by a world that was that interested me, I would be completely creeped out.) Perhaps this ambiguous border between seduction and terror is what discomforts me about the movie. This world is supposed to be enticing, but the entire time I'm thinking Get out of there!

Two other things that bothered me: One, during the climax of the film, Coraline goes on a hunt around her "other mother's" house to find the souls of previous children (which is odd in of itself), and it becomes blatantly apparent that they had children's video games in mind. Even the animation changes; not drastically, just in the fluidity and mobility of the camera's movements. As Coraline goes on this hunt, so do we, and it's like we're playing a video game. I didn't find this very appealing because, first, I don't care for video games, and second, if media genres are going to intersect, the hybridity should be seamless. And two, the other thing that bothered me is that there was no strong resolution at the end. Spoiler alert: Her parents don't exactly treat her better. We see them in the garden offering drinks to neighbors, but do we really get a sense that they care about Coraline or will pay any attention to her in the future? I kind of felt like she was trapped in this world of nonexistent love, but that's okay because the alternative is so much worse. Umm...


But for a second opinion, here're some lines from A. O. Scott's review in The New York Times:

Its look and mood may remind adult viewers at various times of the dreamscapes of Tim Burton (with whom Mr. Selick worked on “Nightmare”), Guillermo del Toro and David Lynch. Like those filmmakers Mr. Selick is interested in childhood not as a condition of sentimentalized, passive innocence but rather as an active, seething state of receptivity in which consciousness itself is a site of wondrous, at times unbearable drama.

The governing emotion, at the beginning, is loneliness. A smart, brave girl named Coraline Jones, voiced by Dakota Fanning, has recently moved from Michigan to an apartment in a big pink Victorian house somewhere in Oregon. She is at an age when the inadequacy of her parents starts to become apparent, and Coraline’s stressed-out, self-absorbed mom and dad (Teri Hatcher and John Hodgman), who write about gardening, barely look up from their computer screens when she’s in the room. And so, like many a children’s book heroine before her, Coraline sets out to explore her curious surroundings, interweaving the odd details of everyday reality with the bright threads of imagination.

review: taken

There are two types of reviews. There are what I call "douchebag reviews" where the writers use theoretical analyses to dissect the film (more often than not in pretentious tones), and then there are "entertainment reviews." The former category is for film lovers, people who seek out profound experiences at the cinema. The latter category is for cinephiles, people who just love movies and want to see everything ever made. This review will fall into the former, but if you want a brief entertainment review, here it is: This isn't a good movie. It uses every generic formula for movie-making that you've already seen this film before, many times with many other actors. But did I enjoy myself? Sure. Would I recommend it? Sure. I mean, unless it's Paul Blart: Mall Cop (where, as one critic noted, the director knew how to "put the camera in front of stuff"), I'll probably recommend something just for the experience of it. There were enough "Oh, shit!" moments that I found myself entertained throughout.

But now for the douchebag review...

The dialogue was cringe-inducing. There were a few moments I laughed out loud. In the first fifteen minutes, we got to know everything we need to know about Bryan Mills (Liam Neeson) from the mouths of other people. Among the gems uttered, we learned Mills is good at being invisible, that he doesn't play by the rules, that he has the propensity to worry, and that he would sacrifice anything for his daughter. Gee, can we say blatant foreshadowing? And not only do all of these "flaws" in his character come into play later, they all become good traits of his character. Because he doesn't play by the rules, he saves his daughter. Because he's overly cautious and worries too much, he saves his daughter. It's as though the movie set up his masculinity as a problem -- he lost his wife, he lost his daughter! -- and then these very problems end up redeeming him in the end. This film is a male's fantasy, and it's insulting.

There is nothing "real" about this movie. Most of the online reviews I've read, all written by men, have noted Liam Neeson's age as a site of implausibility. I don't know if it's because I'm female, but I had no problem with his age. I think if you're fit and strong and active, there's nothing implausible about a man beating a bunch of people up. What I do have a problem with, however, are the abundant clichés in the film. There was nothing original about the story. The only thing that makes this movie in the least bit enjoyable is Liam Neeson and his awesome I-will-kill-you voice.

The following clichés can be found in Taken:

1. Women are weak, feeble creatures who do nothing for the plot.
2. Arabs -- in this case, Albanians -- are evil and always carry a gun.
3. The dialogue (meaning, the characters) tell you everything you need to know about someone's personality.
4. Car chase scenes involve nothing more than loud music and fast editing.
5. Russians are evil, but not as evil as Arabs.
6. The slutty girl always dies, whereas the virgin does not.
7. Being a seventeen year old girl means acting like a twelve year old girl.
8. Gorgeous women will only marry older, uglier guys -- and if they remarry, it's to older, uglier guys with money.
9. Saying that human trafficking "isn't personal, it was just a business" to the father of one of the girls is a bad idea if you want to live.
10. Torture is okay when Americans* do it.

* Of course, Liam Neeson is Irish, not American, but in the movie he plays an American, so it's okay when he does it.


My first problem is with the casting of Maggie Grace. I haven't seen her outside of Lost, so I haven't formed an opinion about her as an actress. But I do know that she's twenty-five trying to pass as a seventeen year old, and this representation of youth involves a Bedazzled denim jacket (umm, no), babydoll dresses, and running at a 55-degree angle that's reserved for toddlers just learning how to walk. It's a bizarre and inaccurate representation, and every time Grace was on the screen, I found myself laughing at the ridiculousness of her character. Furthermore, her character's best friend is the quintessential slut to her virgin goodness. Of course, the protagonist's daughter is the virgin -- because if she's sexually active, she must be up to no good -- and of course, the slutty friend dies because (spoiler alert!) the daughter has to live. (Can that really be a spoiler since you already know it has a happy ending? And you know it's a happy ending because, one, it's an American film and, two, you've already seen this movie before.)

A side note on the whole virginity thing... Kim (Maggie Grace) is kidnapped in Paris and sold into human trafficking. There is one scene where you see her practically naked during an auction, but there is absolutely zero indication that she has in any way been tainted by this experience. Her slutty friend? Yeah, she's drugged and covered in her own vomit, and she's not wearing pants. But Kim? Kim is still the sweet and innocent virgin from the beginning of the film. (And the last five minutes of the film -- which you should avoid if you go see this movie -- suggests that this whole trafficking thing was just a dream and never really happened. She's completely unaffected by it.)

This film is also pretty misogynistic (as noted by my friend "Jean Cash," nicknamed as such because her resemblance to the Man in Black). Not in the typical "women are worthless" sense, but in the overall tone of the film. None of the women do anything but cry, act bitchy and/or careless, or exist as bargaining chips (and I'm not talking about Kim). Spoiler alert: Liam Neeson's character, Bryan Mills, shoots a perfectly kind and generous woman as a bargaining chip. "You took my daughter, so I'm going to take your loved one." Even Kim's mother isn't good for anything. When she finds out her daughter's been taken, all she does is cry. Her husband is a bajillionaire, and she doesn't think to use his resources. She's leaving her daughter's future in her ex-husband's hands? Come on, now.

But the female characters are not the only ones reduced to basic stereotypes. We also have the Albanians -- a group of characters with no individual names (other than Marco), no reason or purpose for being human traffickers, and they don't have any distinguishing attributes. On the one hand, I really appreciate that Bryan Mills kills everyone in the moment. I hate it when action movies prolong the death/fight scenes -- "I have to leave quickly now, but I'll come back and kill you!" -- and in Taken, Mills meets the many circles of men dealing with trafficking ring, and he kills them off one by one. It makes logical sense that he finds a guy, gets whatever information he needs out of them, kills them, and then moves on. But on the other hand, there are so many bad guys killed that they are seen as a collective body -- a collective body of bad Arabs. And, as we all know because of Hollywood ideology, Arabs are automatically evil. (To see the first ten minutes of the fantastic documentary Reel Bad Arabs, go here to see how Hollywood vilifies a people.)

So there you have it. As an intelligent, active cinema-goer, this is a bad movie. It does everything wrong. It's amateurish both in its writing and its execution. But... I didn't regret spending $4.75 on it, and I had a good time while there. Of course, most of my enjoyment came from laughing at the movie...

review: high school musical 3, appaloosa

Admittedly, these reviews are coming a bit late because, being the pennyless sitar player that I am, I've been waiting for movies to go to the dollar theater. I find that I'm less annoyed by movies if I only have to pay a buck for them. It's like the Fast Pass at Disney. Rides are always better when you don't have to wait in line.


High School Musical 3: Not that the plot of this movie matters, High School Musical 3 follows the classless, raceless, sexuality-less troupe of well-behaved teens as they move through their senior year. The movie's bad. I mean, it's really, really bad, but in an amazing way. The plot rings completely false and is borrowed from every other teen program ever (namely a Saved by the Bell episode where Zach and Kelly break up just because it's the end of the year and it makes no sense), but the movie blatantly abuses the ridiculous rules of musicals, and somehow it works to their advantage. Because the plot doesn't matter and because all the characters are your typical ideological Disney archetypes, I'm not going to go into those boring details. Instead, I want to list the scenes that put this film on my Best-Worst Movies list.


5. Somehow, Troy (Zac Efron) is on the school's roof, and for some reason, there's a gazebo and a plethora of just-in-bloom flowers that make it an ideal setting for a duet with Gabriella (Vanessa Hudgeons). It's perfectly sunny outside, but during the middle of their duet, it starts raining. RAINING. Because what's more unpredictably romantic than dancing in the rain? You could certainly analyze this scene as the rain being a metaphor for bodily fluids (since the rain stops them from kissing, and Disney only allows for one kiss and it has to be at the end of the film), but I think it was just an excuse for getting Hudgeons and Efron wet.

4. After another sappy (and poorly written) duet in Troy's treehouse, Gabriella leaves his awkwardly blocked embrace to mock his treehouse toys. This is a beaming example of how horrible the acting and editing are. Efron has a future in acting, but Hudgeons should never be allowed to talk again.

3. Confused and angry over his breakup with Gabriella -- and the impending decision of choosing a college -- Troy goes to school (at night!) and dances in the hallways. You know this movie is awesome when the set begins to rotate and Troy dances on the ceiling. He's bruised and hurt, and I know this not because of Efron's amazing acting capabilities, but because it's lightening outside. This scene is fierce.

2. While in a salvage junkyard, Troy and his best friend Chad (Corbin Bleu) start dancing. And using tires as dancing props. It's like Jackie Chan and Bob Fosse collaborated on this gem. Not only do they dance, but they dance as if they're children who are pretending to be airplanes and ninjas and samurai. The dances are so ridiculous that you can't look away, and then Troy and Chad are turned into younger versions of themselves, your brain blows up.

1. "Now or Never." This is a music video for a song from the movie, but it's the song itself that's unbelievable. No lie; I downloaded this song and listen to it every morning. Sixteen... sixteen...

Troy Bolton: Right now I can hardly breathe.
Gabriella Montez: Oh, you can do it just know that I believe.
Troy Bolton: And thats all I really need.
Gabriella Montez: Then come on!
Troy Bolton: Make me strong! It's time to turn it up. Game on!

'Nuff said.


Appaloosa: I love Westerns. I really, honestly do, though I suppose I should say that I love the Western genre. I think it's unfortunate that Westerns hit the height of their popularity during an era of speedy production and underdeveloped technology. I love the themes of Westerns... juxtaposing the Old and New Worlds (nature vs. civilization), the code of the West (moral ambiguity and the hero), and the isolation of our loner hero. These concepts are still relevant today in our world of simulacra because we are on the brink of fully moving into the Post-Modern era. So although I love to engage with these themes, I prefer them in modern Westerns, like the remake of 3:10 to Yuma or Brokeback Mountain -- and, for what it's worth, even There Will Be Blood. Which is why it's so upsetting that Appaloosa let me down.

Two unorthodox lawmen, Virgil (Ed Harris) and Everett (Viggo Mortenson), come to Appaloosa to fix the corrupt power Randall Bragg (Jeremy Irons) and his men have over the town. (Think Shane, 2.0.) Unfortunately, this movie is less about Virgil and Everett's relationship and even less about Bragg. Instead, this movie focuses on one of the most unattractive performances from a female actress I've seen in a long time. Virgil is smitten by Mrs. French, played lazily and without any depth by Renée Zellwegger, a floating seductress who loves men in power. Instead of dealing with themes of isolation or morality, the main theme is Virgil's rocky affection for Mrs. French. She cheats on him (repeatedly), and he still stays with her anyway. Narratively, the story is fine. It's typical. The movie just didn't expound on the narrative in any engaging way. And Mortenson is thoroughly underutilized in this film.


Some things I liked: I love Ed Harris and Viggo Mortenson together. They have good chemistry, though I feel like their relationship could have been explored further. They have a backstory, but the movie doesn't go into that at all. There were no genuine struggles between them as friends or as law men, and it lacked the emotional pull that should have been there. When Mrs. French kisses Everett, what was I supposed to feel other than absolute hatred for this nondescript minx? And as far as taking-the-bad-guy-to-the-train sequence is concerned, 3:10 to Yuma does it so much better (though, to be fair, that comprises the entire plot of 3:10). And I love Jeremy Irons in almost everything I've seen him in. He, as well, was underutilized in this film. He wasn't a very scary bad guy, and he wasn't exactly on my radar as a difficult problem to solve. There were hints that he was influential and had connections, but they seemed to be convenient rather than elaborately orchestrated. When he escapes from capture, do I really care? I only saw him kill one man at the beginning of the movie, so it's not like he's a terror on the loose. In addition to these three actors (who all do well in their roles, despite lacking any development in the script), I also appreciated the look of the film. Directed by Ed Harris, the film is very beautiful. I didn't like the set very much, even if it's more realistic, because houses built on stilts just looks like a set. But the saturation of color was welcomed and the location shots of the west were beautiful.

Some things I disliked (and in some cases loathed): The pacing was way off. It felt like nothing was happening for a majority of the film, but when I reflect back on it, I can recall specific scenes that moved the narrative forward. So how did this movie move forward without telling me? It's because it focused so much on Mrs. French. Once she was introduced, she was in nearly every scene. And all of those scenes were awful. Joining the company of Ben Stiller and Adam Sandler, I'm going to file Zellwegger as someone who should never make another movie. She was part of Empire Records -- a glorious B-movie of epic nostalgia ("I don't feel that I need to explain my art to you, Warren.") -- but after that, nothing. Jerry Maguire was good, but not because of her. Seriously, rewatch it. Her performance is grating and borderline obnoxious. And her performance in Appaloosa lacks warmth, intelligence, or any remote definition of beauty that I have a hard time believing that any of these men would even care about her. Lastly, I was hoping for a moment of sacrifice or change, and I never got it. It was as if none of this ever happened. The only difference between the beginning of the movie and the end of the movie is that Bragg is no longer a threat. But these two men are still together (after a semi-comical show down where both of them are crawling on the ground after being shot), and there's no grand gesture of triumph. This film could have greatly improved from the death of Mrs. French...

review: the day the earth stood still

This is not going to be a review so much as a lesson on how to write a better movie. Though, the following comments will seem a bit obvious considering how The Day the Earth Stood Still remake completely missed the mark in its genre and its message. The movie was bad, and I blame 90% of it on the script (the other 10% on directing and editing). But I make all sorts of justifications for science-fiction, my chosen poison, and I don't think Keanu Reeves is a bad actor. Is he a good actor? No, but he fits well into the roles that he plays. And let's not forget that he was part of Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventures, one of my favorite late-80s comedies.

So instead of focusing on all of the ways this film failed, I'm going to write about how it should have been rewritten (though I don't think the original needed to be updated).


This modern take on the alien-visitor-with-a-message-of-peace story involves two simple concepts: why the earth needs protecting and why humanity deserves to be saved. This film does not answer either of these questions. Instead of explaining all of the ways humans have been disregarding or destroying the earth (I, for one, am pretty anti-plastic, considering they don't decompose and sit in landfills forever), this film focuses on CGI effects. And instead of showing us human compassion -- which is presumably something that is specific to humans (aliens never seem to understand this concept, do they?) -- this movie shows missile attacks and aggressive action without cause. Before Klaatu even comes out of his ship (I admit, a cool looking translucent sphere), someone shoots him. There's no reason for it. Someone shoots him because that's what humans do. We attack the foreign, and we destroy the unfamiliar before it can destroy us. So not only do we not get an environmental message that offers solutions to our wasteful ways, we don't really get the feeling that humans deserve to be saved. (This, of course, is a permeating theme throughout Battlestar Galactica, beginning with Adama's speech from the "Miniseries." But I digress.) Why save a species that is so intent on destruction?

In the film, compassion is shown in one scene and one scene only. And it's not a very good example of it. Helen Benson (Jennifer Connelly) is the step-mother to Jacob (Jaden Smith, who is an excellent crier but cannot deliver a line to save his life), and they have a rocky relationship because Jacob feels like his dead father left him all alone in the world. At his father's grace, Jacob asks Klaatu to bring him back from the dead, and when Klaatu says that he can't, Helen enters and hugs and comforts her son. Klaatu watches and suddenly he thinks humans can change their nature. Wait, what? Helen and Jacob may have a rocky relationship, but neither of them really change, at least not in a way that Klaatu would observe. But this was the moment where Klaatu goes, "Okay, maybe these humans aren't so bad after all." No offense to humanity, but if I were Klaatu and I turned on the television and saw all of the riots and thievery, I would think, "So in this moment of crisis, this is how you spend your last moments? Good riddance."


So here's how to fix the story, which seriously comprises 90% of the problems...

I buy Jennifer Connelly as an intelligent, so she can stay in the role as Dr. Helen Benson, but she needs to lose the sad face. Throughout the entire movie, she has this look of maternal worry, and it was really distracting. To fix this, she should be the stoic scientist, someone who cares only about facts and data, and this is why she retains a distant relationship with her son. Her son tries to reach out to her, but she just doesn't have time for feelings. On paper, this would seem to be a cliché for scientists, but the actress would have to flesh it out on screen. When Klaatu first lands in Central Park, Connelly played Benson as mesmerized by something shiny rather than inquisitive at the awesomeness of this alien object. Jodie Foster in Contact comes to mind. That has to be one of my favorite female roles; she's intelligent and logical, and yet still very feminine and caring. (Intelligent doesn't have to mean heartless. Hollywood, take note.) Also, I'm reminded of the stripper friend from Independence Day who looks upon the spaceship's light beam and says, "It's so beautiful" (right before being blown up). There needs to be that curiosity and appreciation for difference, otherwise I won't buy her as a serious scientist.

So the first thing is to make Dr. Benson more science oriented and less motherly. In emphasizing this characteristic, her reunion with her son would be that much more compelling. In the moments before the world ends, she chooses her son over science, and as Klaatu watches her do this, it is then and only then that he realizes there is more to human life than excessive selfishness. There are choices that people have to make, and even though Dr. Benson would be more inclined (or predetermined) to choose science, she chooses her son, she chooses that human connection. And this choice would involve something like going with Klaatu to his planet after the destruction of earth or being able to see something that no other human would have the opportunity to see, and she chooses to be with her son, someone she sees every day. The film would be less about the humans trying to attack Klaatu's biological robot protector GORT (which this film spent way too much time on) and more about Benson's detached and removed relationship with Jacob.

Similarly, the film would focus on Klaatu having human experiences. He meets an Asian man in McDonald's (hey, nice product placement, 20th Century Fox) who has lived on earth for seventy years and chooses to die when they do because he feels that earth is his home. Now, I don't think Klaatu should go around living the full human experience -- because, after all, his entire purpose is to eliminate the human species -- but that he comes across them unexpectedly. For example, someone gives up their seat to him on a bus or train, and he doesn't understand why someone would do this for him. Or he comes across religion, something his race doesn't have. Or he gets a cramp in his leg, and this is a type of pain he's never known before. There's something to be explored in an alien living in a human body, and the film doesn't take this any further than Klaatu drinking water for the first time and having difficulty synchronizing his eye-hand coordination.


In short, this film should have been a character study. It should have been Dr. Benson and the family/compassion of humanity on the one hand, and Klaatu and understanding how humans live on the other. (Perhaps Dr. Benson tells Klaatu a sob story and she's crying but Klaatu doesn't know what tears are, and then later he cries. Although, come to think of it, I may have seen that already done in a movie before. But something along those lines.) The movie should NOT go back and forth between what Benson is doing and what the military is doing. (And Kathy Bates as the Defense Secretary was laughable. Seriously, I laughed.) The movie should be a character study. And it should have at least explained -- in a more direct approach -- how the humans have mistreated the earth and some suggestion as to how they will change their future actions. When the movie ended, I got no resolution on the environmental front. There was no indication that humanity at large even got the message that their race was almost destroyed because they're too lazy to recycle. I'm not saying the movie should be as blatant as WALL-E, but if you're going to bring saving the earth into the mix, you need to show me that the humans will eventually save the earth on their own.

And there you have it.

review: religulous, city of ember

Let me get this out the way: Bill Maher's Religulous (a combination of "religious" and "ridiculous") preaches to the choir. The film sets out to investigate the paradoxical "absurd logic" of religious people, and Maher does this by interviewing a variety of religious authorities -- from the everyman on the street, to the actor playing Jesus at Florida's theme park Holy Land, to rabbis and that guy who thinks he's the Second Coming of Jesus. Initially, Maher asks intelligent, objective, and entirely non-offensive questions, such as "why is faith good" or "how has God spoken to you." These are good questions, but, where Religious becomes potentially off-putting, Maher tends not to accept the answers to these questions. For example, an ex-Jew for Jesus says that Jesus performed small miracles for him, and that's why he became a Christian. When asked for an example of a miracle, the man told a story about sticking his cup outside and asking for rain -- and lo and behold, it rains. Maher points out that this isn't a miracle, that sometimes it just rains -- but I can certainly understand how some religious audience members might think this is negative atheism. Is Maher trying to make these people wrong? Well, no, I don't think so. I think he's just pointing out that people believe weird things and that logic is not part of these beliefs.

Bill Maher has repeatedly expressed and emphasized that he is not anti-religion, nor is he an atheist. He is simply anti-certainty (in fact, the term he has recently used is apatheism, which I might start considering myself). The question of the existence of God (or any god) is irrelevant to morality on Earth. We can be moral without religion. Don't believe me? I don't cheat, steal, or murder. Not because it's in the bible, but because it's the law. And although Maher says outrageous things like "religion is insanity by consensus," I do agree with his other comments, such as "faith is just making a virtue out of not thinking." It would be easy to be offended by a statement like that, but that's what faith is -- it doesn't negate thinking, but it does disregard logic. Faith is not concrete; it's a belief.

But back to the movie... I think it's unfairly misrepresentative of religious people. Almost all of my friends are Christians, and they are perfectly normal (although I do have a few that try every Christmas to convert me by giving me a bible with highlighted passages). But this movie isn't about level-headed religion. It's about how religion as one's dominant ideology is often harmful to the good of humanity. For instance, Maher goes into the Creationism Museum (which is an oxy-moron, of course), where dinosaurs co-exist with humans. Is there anything wrong with Creationism? Well, not inofitself, but when it interferes with science and evidential data it becomes a problem. I really don't understand this retrogressive movement against science, how people today can deny evolution. It's mind-boggling to me.


But other than religion-as-opposition to science, Religulous explores connections between Christianity and other religions (the similarities between the Egyptian god Horus and Jesus are mind-blowing!), how this country was founded on the separation of church and state and that our founding fathers were deists (Ben Franklin once said, "Lighthouses are more helpful than religion"), and religion's part in wars. The movie ends in a montage that I think would've served better in the middle of the film, because I don't think the last thought people should leave with is that religion causes war (which may very well be the case sometimes, but it's such a nihilistic note to end on). But sometimes Religulous doesn't even need to say anything because the interviewees will do it for them. A senator from Arkansas, Mark Pryor even says, "You don't have to pass an IQ test to be in the Senate."

But there was one interview that I particularly appreciated. Bill Maher tends to rag on the idea of the Holy Trinity -- which, by the way, is not mentioned in the bible (neither is the Virgin Birth which, you know, might've been important to mention). Maher interviews an actor playing Jesus at Holy Land, where he also interviews some idiotic tourists. (I think it's rather unfortunate that Maher doesn't interview intellectual religious people. He interviews people who can't construct logical arguments.) And I thought this interview was significant because this actor analogizes the Holy Trinity to ice -- ice can be steam, a solid, or a liquid (water). One thing can be three different things while staying true to itself. Maher is actually impressed with this analogy initially, until later he reveals how silly the concept actually is. But I do think the analogy is an intelligent response.

Is this movie for everyone? Absolutely not -- especially not for people sensitive to questions about their beliefs. But I do think it's important for people to question their own beliefs; if you are right in your beliefs, you shouldn't be afraid of knowledge. Science should support your beliefs (so stop negating or disregarding science!). Taking offense to questions indicates insecurity and a lack of knowledge; taking offense to Maher's approach, however, is a bit different and I can understand how one might feel attacked. But the movie is definitely made for a specific audience... and I am a part of that target audience. I laughed. I clapped. I cried from laughing so hard. There was a comment about Native Americans being Jews, and then the film jump cuts to a scene of Mel Brooks in Blazing Saddles. I don't care who you are; that is hilarious!

I don't necessarily recommend the movie to everyone, but I loved it. A lot. For what this movie is and for what is was trying to accomplish, I give it a solid A.


City of Ember is based on the 2003 apocalyptic book of the same name by Jeanne Duprau. The book, as well as the movie, is about a self-contained, self-maintained underground city called Ember, whose sole light source is a generator that was only meant to last 200 years after the destruction of the world. It's been so long, however, that people have forgotten that a world ever existed outside of Ember, and people have stopped venturing out into the dark Unknown Regions outside the city's boundaries. The movie follows Lina Mayfleet (Saoirse Ronan of Atonement) and Doon Harrow (Harry Treadaway), two 12-year-olds bordering 16-year-old territory. (Treadaway is too old to play a character of 12, although I think the movie does not distinguish their ages for this reason.) The movie is apparently very close to the book, but, due to this close adaptation, some aspects are lost. Lina is artistic and enjoys drawing things she's never seen, like skyscrapers and blue skies, but in the movie, she is only seen once coloring the sky blue. And Doon discovers rather large animals without much of an explanation as to how they got so big.

But this movie really excels in two areas: the production design and a really well paced plot. The production design is gorgeous. It's exactly what I would imagine a 200+ year old underground city would look like. Everything -- from the tape they use to how they dress to the layout of the city -- is intricate in its detail, and the very look of the movie is infinitely fascinating. (Although I have to note that in some scenes, when the generator fails, there is still light coming from somewhere. It looks like blueish moonlight, but obviously there's no moon underground.) As for the narrative, everything is spaced out evenly. I never got bored. I never thought, "I'm sticking with this character for too long. What's next?" I never got anxious for it to end. It progressed in an ironically natural way (ironic because editing is anything but natural). The main actors were charismatic and not at all annoying -- I mean, how often are children actors annoying? More often than not. But I wanted to spend times with these characters. And it was smart that movie keeps you in the dark (pun intended!) about the myth of the city so that, as the kids discover more clues about Ember, you discover with them.

Of course -- spoiler! -- the kids find a way out of Ember. There are so many "family movies" (what an unfortunate genre) that seem to set up the idea for a theme park ride. Journey to the Center of the Earth is the most obvious example, with the mine carts on a roller coaster track. And how City of Ember ends is no exception, except this time it's a log flume rather than a roller coaster. The CGI is a bit awkward here, but it's such a short scene that that's easy to overlook. The difference is, though, I would love for this to be a ride. I can't even imagine what the production design for the waiting line would be. Wait, yes I can. It would be awesome! I enjoyed this movie a lot more than I was expecting, and although it is a family movie, it's a smart one and it's well-crafted. It's inventive and it encourages curiosity. I would love to see screen adaptations of the other books in the Ember series. I give this movie an A-.

review: hamlet 2

Hamlet 2 is about Dana Marschz (pronounced Mars-z-ch-s) who has to save the drama class from budget cuts by putting on an elaborate play to raise money. Right away, there's a flaw in this because, as everyone knows, the drama department is the first of the arts to get cut, but in the movie it's the last. So Dana, an actor-turned-drama teacher who normally adapts a successful Hollywood movie into a play (you see Erin Brokovich performed at the beginning), decides to write an original work for the end of the semester. He settles on Hamlet 2, despite everyone being dead at the end of the first one, and as the movie develops so does his motivation. He wrote Hamlet 2 as way of forgiving his father. Get it? Jesus and Hamlet are two guys who need to forgive, and Dana plays the rib-tank-and-jeans-wearing Jesus.

The beginning of the movie starts off parodying the drama class stereotype, which includes a repressive homosexual male and an obnoxious do-gooder, who are actually the only two students in the class. With the budget cuts, the Latino population from other arts programs filter into the drama class, but Dead Poet's Society this is not. This movie is not about Dana reforming these kids or having any type of profound influence on their lives. In fact, the movie parodies this too. On the second day of this integration, Dana comes in and says, "I saw a wonderful movie last night. Dangerous Minds. So now I know all about you." And he says in such an obliviously ignorant way the students can't help but laugh at him. He's a joke. Near the end, Dana even makes the revelation, "My life is a parody of a tragedy! My wife left me. The kid's not mine." Hysterical stuff.


So while the students take a backseat to Coogan, the supporting adult players also get their time to shine. Catherine Keener, who knew you were so funny? Early on, at dinner, she has a full two minutes where it's just her talking, and everything she says will rip your sides with laughter. She knows when to pause and when to go for the kill. Why hasn't she displayed this talent before? (And no, 40 Year Old VIrgin doesn't count.) Elizabeth Shue also makes a fantastic cameo,which is actually more than a cameo. She stars as herself who left the business to become a nurse, and while talking to Dana's class about acting, one student asks what she misses about acting. Her response? "Making out with people. You know, really the only bad thing about being a nurse is you don't get to make out with your patients..." And then she trails off to another place and time. She was quite hilarious, especially when she attends the play presumably high. Her childlike wonder was beautifully played.

Is the movie a work of art? Not even close. Do I recommend it? Not exactly. Were some of the jokes forced? Well, yes. But did I laugh out loud during the entire movie? Yes. I even clapped a few times. Scenes worth highlighting are Keener's dinner speech, Coogan's toy-piano impotence-song in the hospital waiting room, the entire play of Hamlet 2 (Jesus moonwalks on water!), and the moment when recovering-alcoholic Dana drinks an entire bottle of Peach Schnapps (although it might as well have been gin or whiskey). This is one of the few movies that I'm actually planning on seeing twice. Possibly more. Dana, who roller skates to work because he can't afford gas, gets stuck in a gravel parking lot and screams, "Gravel is the bane of my existence!" That alone is worth seeing again.

review: miss pettigrew lives for a day, hellboy 2

Well, it was quite an eventful weekend. On Thursday, my Netflix rental, Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, came in. On Friday, JD and I went to see Hellboy 2 (finally!). And on Saturday, Erin and I went to see Hamlet 2. For three movies that received average to above-average reviews, I was quite impressed with the lot. Hamlet 2 was the biggest surprise -- I laughed a lot harder and a lot longer than I was expecting. (That's why you should always have low expectations. No where to go but up!)


Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day:
First of all, I love just about everything Frances McDormand and Amy Adams are in. McDormand was unbelievable in Almost Famous and Adams blew me away in Junebug. I don't know of an actress other than Adams who can break my heart while she's smiling through tears. This film is a lot like Being Julia with Annette Benning, in that Amy Adams plays Delysia, an aspiring stage actress who teeters on the edge between reality and illusion. She is constantly portraying a persona of wealth and confidence to her three boyfriends -- including Lee Pace as her cabaret piano player -- and to McDormand, who is a homeless governess who cheated her way into being Delysia's social secretary. The backdrop is in the early 1940s during the WWII bombings in London. All of the actors are absolutely enchanting, and they bring a light freshness to a potentially boring script. There are three main relationships in this film, and none of them include Delysia's boyfriends. There is the relationship between Delysia and Miss Pettigrew, and then there are the relationships Delysia and Miss Pettigrew each have with themselves. Delysia must finally grow up and figure out what is more important -- a man who could give her the roles she's dreamed of, a man who can give her the social status she desires, or a man who loves her for who she really is. And Miss Pettigrew comes to understand the importance of friendships, after she's been so uninterested after her husband died in the first world war. And then there's the friendship these two women gain...

The entire film takes place over the course of twenty-four hours (possibly less). Delysia gives Miss Pettigrew a makeover, despite the fact that Miss Pettigrew really just wants a bite to eat. (She doesn't really eat anything during the entire the movie, but the thought of food is constantly on her mind and food, on multiple occasions, ends up in her line of sight. There's a whole Tantalus motif going on.) I typically despise movies that take place one night -- Before Sunset/Sunrise excluded -- because I never feel like the characters actually bonded. I never feel like they actually changed the other person's life in such a dramatic way. But with this movie, it made sense. Delysia gave Miss Pettigrew confidence (at first in her appearance, and then later in her social interactions), and Miss Pettigrew opened Delysia's eyes to how much love can actually offer her. At one point, Miss Pettrigrew tells Delysia of her husband, "He smiled every time he saw me, and we could have built a life on that." Their lives really were dramatically altered after meeting one another, and their lives were better for it.

It's a really light, wonderful movie. McDormand was enchanting, and her smallest mannerisms were hysterical. Whenever posed with a problem, she would walk away in the most comical way, reminiscent of Charlie Chaplin or Lucille Ball. And Adams has a show-stopping song towards the end of the movie that show you a longing you never want to experience. She did such a marvelous job. And while watching the movie, a brilliant idea hit me: Amy Adams should be cast as Galinda in the movie-musical adaptation of Wicked (perhaps with Emmy Rossum as Elphaba?). She would be absolutely perfect for the role. And as much as I love Kristin Chenowith (and I know she's expressed interest in reprising the role she created on Broadway), she's just too old to believably play a high schooler. And before I forget, the production design was marvelous! As much as I dislike art deco, there's an instantaneous feeling of glamor involved with it.

Overall, an 8.5/10.


Hellboy 2: The Golden Army:
Let me be clear, I love Guillermo del Toro. He's the director who defies genre, and I love him for it. He reminds me a bit of Stanley Kubrick because of this, but, although they are both very intelligent directors, del Toro tends to create accessible films. With that being said, I enjoyed Hellboy II as much as I enjoyed the original. They were both unexpectedly poignant, humorous, romantic, and adventurous at moments when you aren't expecting. This sequel still revolves around Hellboy, a red-bodied and hot-blooded demon with a fist of destruction, who is constantly struggling with the fact that he is an outcast from society. People on the streets even say, "Hey, you're ugly!" and he accepts it. And even though he has a hot temper, he loves kitties, TV, and candy, so we know he's a good guy. And this good guy is now fighting against Prince Nuada, a demon (?) in hiding who wants to rage war on mankind with an indestructible golden army of soldiers. It's your typical comic-book genre setup, but everyone really sees Hellboy for the characters. And I agree with many other bloggers out there: Ron Pearlman was born to play the title role.

I only have a few things to say about the movie, and the first is my appreciation for a Venus of Willendorf reference. I went with a fellow art history dork, and we were absolutely tickled by her appearance at an art auction. Another thing is, I'm not usually impressed with martial arts choreography or stunt coordination. It's not really my thing, and I think it's overused in American films as a way of capitalizing on the one thing most Americans appreciate about Asian films, nevermind that they have more inventive plots and groundbreaking filmic techniques. But in Hellboy, I was impressed by the fight scenes Prince Nuada (who is surprisingly very attractive, despite being a won't-stop-until-mankind-is-dead bad guy), and this was in part by del Toro's long shots that actually showed the action. (Music videos irritate me with all of their close-ups. Why even hire a choreographer if they're not going to showcase his or her work?)

But most importantly, I was really impressed by how subtle the themes were in the movie. Yes, Hellboy is an outcast, and yes, his human girlfriend Liz is his only connection to normalcy (even though she does catch on fire). But there are only a few lines that actually state this blatantly, and when it happens, it's not over the top. Earlier in the film, Liz asks Hellboy who he would choose, her or the world, and Hellboy hesitates. He loves humans. He loves the idea of being a part of the human race. At one point Liz refers to him as "the greatest man [she's] ever known," and Hellboy sighs softly, "Man..." It's touching because, especially in today's world, we take the very fact that we're human for granted. We take being part of a community for granted. We always want more, more, more, and here, Hellboy just wants to be a part of a race. And when Liz visits the visually stunning Angel of Death to save Hellboy's life, she is posed with a dilemma. The angel explains that Hellboy will cause the destruction of mankind, and he says, "So, child, make the choice. The world or him?" And without hesitation, she replies, "Him." It's sweet without being sappy, and I liken it to when Leia tells Han she loves him and he responds, "I know."

Overall, a 7/10. (One point deduction for the Seth MacFarlane-voiced Johann Kraus. So obnoxious.)


Hamlet 2:
My review will come later in the week, after I've had time to fully digest the craziness that was Hamlet 2. I still laugh in the trailers when Catherine Keener says, "Hamlet 2? Don't they all die at the end of the first one?" Steve Coogan says, "I created a thing..." "Oh, she says, "a time machine..."