Cineplexus

From PopSent…"Full House Genetics"

I just wrote a pretty ridiculous meditation on Full House for my pop culture and general-purpose blog, Popular Sentiment. To tempt you to read it, I will mention that it includes this picture:

 
 

Two Movies About The Futility of Reason

A Serious Man, ★★★★½

Where the Wild Things Are,★★★★

Sometimes you can like, even love, a film with your gut but the reasons why remain illusive. A Serious Man and Where the Wild Things Are have this quality in common. Both films explore the psyche of their main characters, visually and through mysterious but fascinating dialogue. Sure, those main characters are pretty different – in the former, a middle aged Jewish man in the 1960s and, in the latter, a modern 8ish-year-old – but the two filmic methods seem strangely similar.  Do the movies share any other traits? It seems unlikely, but I'm going to look. Like these movies, I'm diving into the realm of the impossible.

A Serious Man sets it's own (rather Orthodox) stage in a rather unorthodox manner. We're deep within an ancient Jewish legend, in which a supposedly dead man comes to the door of a couple he knows (or should I say "knew?". The woman of the house stabs him right in the chest, so sure is she that he is a ghost or evil spirit. The husband is aghast, as the man appears to bleed to death. But is he a ghost or not? The story doesn't say. That's not the point. Frustrating, right?

That's the world of A Serious Man and its lead, Larry Gopnik (Michael Stuhlbarg, who is amazing here). In the middle of a great number of crises ― marital, career, fatherly, neighborly ― Larry is continuously advised to seek comfort in his Jewish faith. The harder he tries, the more he learns that his Jewish tradition is more about pondering crises than solving them...just like in the legend that starts the film (which, by the way, is never referenced again).

This masterpiece of contemplation was written and directed by the Coen brothers, and is probably their most thoughtful film. It also holds the title of Most Jewish Movie I've Ever Seen. Despite its frequent, VERY Black humor, it is a rather challenging film to watch if you're expecting a conventional problem-solution-new problem-ultimate solution story arc. That it has none is the whole point of the film. Can you deal with that?

OMG! Hey! That last paragraph (minus the Jewish part and the Coen brothers part) could be repurposed for a review of Where the Wild Things Are! Another similarity. I knew we could do it. 

Spike jonze adapted the famous Maurice Sendak book only with the author's seal of approval, and this was no small feat when you consider that sendak's original was a 48-page picture book. This left Jonze with countless opportunities to embellish on the details of hero Max, his life, and his experiences with the Wild Things, and Jonze took every one of them. Few of the movie's events are familiar to us from the famous children's book, but the film manages to retain the book's mood nonetheless. This can be largely attributed to the fabulous performance by unknown (Max Records) who was picked from outside The Biz for his spirit and character. Also unchanged is the core event of the story: Max, after acting out at home and being scolded, escapes to a (fantasy) land where he keeps wild things from killing him by saying he's a king who can magically solve all their problems.

Hmm…an unrealistic desire to solve problems? Escape from personal crisis? There may be more similarities between these two movies than I ever imagined. 

One gets the feeling that some hours of serious thought will unravel WIld Things' web of symbols and metaphors, but it's a nut I've yet to crack. Like Serious Man, this film's rich detail and mysterious twists add to its allure. Even so, a lack of answers could demonstrate the purity life's mysteries, but it can also demonstrates lazy editing. Much of Wild Things perfectly captures the ethereal childhood melancholy few movies can approximate, but every so often the drama feels like nonsense. I can't tell if that's part of some master plan on Jonze's part or of it's...well...a mistake. Do Jonze or (co-writer) Dave Eggers (or anyone that works for them) make mistakes? Now there's a mystery to ponder.

I really liked both of these films, but ultimately feel that A Serious Man is a superior film, if only because it's easier to explain why I like it: great writing, great acting, a clear message in spite of its theme of fogginess. Wild Things had all of these but the last. Of course, my rating, unlike this review, is not a comparison of the two movies, and both films are very, very worth seeing. Just another thing they've got in common.

Up ★★★★½

Raised, as so many of us were, on a rich movie diet of Disney's classic animated films, I am just now realizing how intensely frightening most of them tended to be at points. Sometimes, as with Aladdin, The Little Mermaid, or The Lion King, the terror comes somewhere in the middle.  Then there's that select handful of films where the creepiness shows up right away – think of that eerie opening to Beauty and the Beast, or the sad horror of Finding Nemo and, of course Bambi.

I'm waxing philosophical about these super-dramatic moments less because of my own reaction to Up than that of the little boy who sat behind me in the theater. I'd been warned that the beginning of the film was very sad – boy was it – but the child behind me was definitely scared. About 10 minutes into the film, he whimpered in discomfort, reflecting the heartwrenching nature of what was unfolding onscreen in a way that only an innocent could – palpably feeling the unpleasantness without really understanding it. His mother, a wise filmgoer no doubt, informed him that the film hadn't really started yet. She was pretty much right.

The vast majority of Up is more delightful than heartwrenching (though there's some of that, and some more scary, along the way), but those first few sad,painful minutes were absolutely necessary to set up the motivation for the characters throughout. Such a decision – to maintain the integrity of the story even if it's difficult for much of the audience – not only pays off bigtime in Up, but it also reminds us of what these films can be when they're done with care and class. There may be an extra dimension involved, but Disney and Pixar have restored the dark, complex splendor of those animated classics we loved as children, and appreciate as adults.

Thanks, guys.

WALL•E ★★★★★

Just so we're clear: Robots are totally awesome. What other creation, or fantasy creation, can remind us simultaneously of the '50s, the '80s, and the distant future? In the past, I've been dubious of Pixar's ability to entertain me with cute-ified fishies or rats, and time and again the results have been spectacular. I went to the theater expecting a great time from WALL•E. What I got was way, way more exciting.

To a child, WALL•E is a lovable robot with in a fascinating and slightly familiar universe. But for ME to say that this is a movie about cute robots...it's like saying that Animal Farm is book about a kooky pig. There are many things that surprise and amaze in WALL•E.  The realer-than-reality animation or the emotional reactions evoked in scenes with no real dialogue are enough to make this a standout, even by Pixar's high standards.  But what most  sets this film apart, not just as a cartoon, but as modern cinema, is it's eerie and frighteningly believable vision of the future.

You'll have to see the film to truly understand what I mean. If you've already seen it, and you didn't catch the jaw-dropping cities of garbage or the all-too-familiar society of information-obsessed lazy fatties, maybe you should check again. Truly, this is a work of genius.

The Chronicles of The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe ★★★★ Prince Caspian ★★★½

In what could only be called an act of madness, I decided this Sunday that I would spend the hours after work watching, for the first time, 2005's The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, to be followed immediately (it was about 30 minutes later) by its sequel, Prince Caspian, now in theaters. While such an exercise can hardly be recommended to the faint-of-heart, it certainly awarded me with a clear lens through which to compare the films.

I initally avoided The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, dubious of a CGI-tastic brutalization of one of the world's greatest children's novels. While the drawn-out introduction left me frustrated (as in "please, for God's sake, take me to Narnia already!), once the wardrobe doors were flung open, the film delivered a mix of fantasy, horror, violence, and yes, even some Christian symbolism, that was frankly rather breathtaking. I was pleased and, frankly, surprised by how satisfying it all proved to be.

Now, I have an inborn aversion to realistically-animated talking animals. Please do not show me a winking tabby cat or a commercial starring a chrous of singing, dancing puppies (I'm talking to you, Frontline!) But I must say, even this element of the Wardrobe was executed with a precision that kept it from grating too much. With few exceptions, digital effects were focused on the many dangerous or powerful subjects the film tackles, rather than working to evoke a sugar-coated dimension of dewy-eyed rodents.

Which brings us to my trip to the theater.

Far from drawing out our quest to re-enter Narnia, Prince Caspian launches us straight into an unfamiliar, human-filled Narnia that left the people behind me wondering if they were in the right theater. They were. It's 1300 years later, and Narnia has been taken over by a group of apparently Spanish humans called Telmarines. Their prince, Caspian X, must flee his kingdom before he's killed by a power-hungry uncle. Of course, he flees right into the forests of Narnia, where he meets a cool badger, some super-sweet dwarves, and, much to my chagrin, this freaking mouse that think's he's soooo hilarious. Even the voice of Eddie Izzard, whom I dearly love, cannot save this character, whose strange behavior and incongruous animation put him up there with Jar-Jar Binks on the list of CGI annoyances.

When this mouse, whose name is apparently Reepicheep, leaves the screen, the movie progresses admirably, with Caspian unknowingly summoning the ancient kings and queens of Narnia – our stars, Lucy, Edmond, Susan, and Peter. (Incidentally, the magic of Narnia seems to have transformed Peter into a super-hunk . Chill out – it's okay for me to say that, because the actor who plays him is 21. Seriously, though, it was distracting. Sweet Jesus.) The remaining mystical inhabitants of Narnia, led by these five nobles, must fight the Telmarines for their freedom. There are good-and-evil struggles reminiscent of the dark side, and clever, violent battle scenes that make you wonder if this is really a kids' movie. And then, in comes Reepicheep and his ilk, completely undermining all the coolness the film has amassed. What we're left with is two movies: the mature, exciting movie that shows through in the majority of scenes, and the goofy, pandering kiddie flick that should have been left on the cutting room floor.

The verdict? Both films are interesting and packed with moments their cast and crew can be very proud of. Neither film is perfect, but I would like to officially put to rest all of this "better than the original" talk that's surrounding Prince Caspian. At best, the film is an exciting appendage to the first Chronicles of Narnia movie. The indulgent desire to provide a little "something for everyone" frequently derailed the story's progression and ultimately distracted from the astonishing effects and fascinating darkness that gilds many of Caspian's scenes. We'll get to return to Narnia on The Voyage of the Dawn Treader in 2010; hopefully they'll leave the goofy characters at the pier.

AS SEEN ON DVD! Shrek The Third ★★

I got Shrekked out long ago. I have only myself to blame; after my first screening of Shrek, I was so pleasantly surprised that I saw it again...twice. And like the second half of an egg salad sandwich, the once enjoyable experience turned kind of gross and mushy.

At this point, there is very little in the Shrek universe that doesn't strike me as hackneyed, grasping for laughs by reycling old material. Shrek 2 and Shrek 3 had tons of super special fairy-tale-on-it's-ear type jokes, and a reasonable dose of excitement and sweetness, but it's difficult to get worked up about a film whose characters stare you in the face everytime you turn on the tv, go shopping, or - God forbid - enter a McDonald's.

Sorry, kids.

The Golden Compass ★★★

Allow me to introduce you to The Golden Compass, a film which straddles the fine line between ridiculous and brilliant. For me the scales were tipped decidedly toward ridiculous when the closing titles began and a slow, meandering ballad about the main character faded in: "Lyra, Lyra...her soul walks beside her, an army stands behind her...Lyra, Lyra." The song, entitled "Lyra" and sung by Kate Bush, is a well-meaning ode to the importance of the story's main character, but its bewildering execution leaves you wanting to laugh (or, in my case, actually laughing). The same could be said about the film that it follows.

The movie adaptation, particularly of a fantasy novel, is a strange beast, and I think it's fair to say that after over 100 years, Hollywood is still trying to figure out how to treat it right. Perhaps even trickier is the fantasy series (such as Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials series), in which the livelihood of future films and the potential for major box office dollars rest upon the palatability of the crucial first film. It should come as no big surprise that more popular series are among the genre's most notable successes. The ongoing Harry Potter franchise or The Lord of the Rings trilogy, for example, were able to leave fans of the original material generally excited and itching for more, and neither spent much time or energy explaining how their worlds were different from our own. The Golden Compass is the first installment of a potential His Dark Materials trilogy, and if the series is going to live through its completion, movie number one would have done well to explain a little less and show a little more.

While I haven't read The Golden Compass (or any of the His Dark Materials books) myself, the world depicted in the movie is clearly the invention of a brilliant mind. Furthermore, the actors in the film were hardly objectionable - Daniel Craig is stately, Nicole Kidman is vicious, Sam Elliot is droll, and star Dakota Blue Richards seems just the right blend of precious and precocious. The visual effects were varied and truly stunning, defining entire scenes and characters such as the terrifying "ice bears" and the "demons" that walk beside each human. Some adaptations with so much going for them are counted as gems, even if fans of the original books are disappointed by liberties taken and scenes omitted. But one needn't be a literary scholar or rabid Philip Pullman fan to be irked by the plotline of this particular novel-to-screen transition.

The world of The Golden Compass is complex, and the film takes every opportunity to remind us of it. New races of people appear around every corner, and each time we're reminded which race they belong to. Are they Gyptians? Are they Witches? Who is that guy again? Why are children's demon's different from adults' ? What's going to happen next? Issues that the books' author likely devoted chapters to get addressed via hastily inserted lines of dialogue. Like a buoy thrown in to make sure we're up to speed (rather then leave us to fend for ourselves), this hand-holding bothers me a little more each time I think about it.

Ultimately, The Golden Compass leaves one feeling exhilarated and confused, entertained and patronized. During a thrilling ice bear fight, the witty banter exchanged by the bears is eye-rollingly trite. Just as protagonist Lyra is learning to decode the secrets of the titular Golden Compass, Eva Green comes flying in on a broomstick. It's enough to make a film critic want to tear her hair out at the prospect of what could have been if only a bit more care had been taken in the cutting room and a little more trust had been granted us by the script. See the film yourself, and maybe the scales will tip differently for you. Plus, you'll get to hear that hilarious song...Lyyyyra....Lyyra...