Falling Awake

The Polar Express (2004)

2011-12-22T14:39:00.000-08:00

The Polar Express (2004) was groundbreaking when it was released. It was the first motion picture to use motion-capture for all the lead performances. Motion-capture had been used previously to create characters such as Gollum in the Lord of the Rings trilogy, but it had never been used on as large a scale as in The Polar Express. Director Robert Zemeckis set quite a challenge for himself, and I think it worked.

All the characters were portrayed by adults in motion-capture suits, including the child characters. Tom Hanks effectively played five different parts, all of them interacting on screen. (I hate that many websites claim he plays six parts, counting Scrooge, which is a puppet obviously being operated by the Hobo.) Most people probably don't realize that the main character, only referred to in the credits as Hero Boy, is also Hanks. The fact that an actor like Tom Hanks could play a young boy would open the door to endless possibilities for movie actors.

Based on the book by Chris Van Allsburg (who also executive produced), the story is aided greatly by the visually inventive Zemeckis. His style lends itself very well to a story that is not excessively heavy with dialogue. The film has a distinct look, almost like...well, like a book brought to life.

The story begins with Hero Boy (voice by Daryl Sabara), who's beginning to have doubts about Santa Claus and Christmas. He's awakened in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve by the sound of a train in front of his house. This is the Polar Express, which the Conductor (Tom Hanks) claims will take Hero Boy to the North Pole, where he can meet Santa and have his doubts laid to rest.

On the train, Hero Boy meets other children on the same journey, including Hero Girl (Nona Gaye), who is full of Christmas spirit and truly believes. There is also Lonely Boy (Peter Scolari; voice by Jimmy Bennett) and Know-It-All (Eddie Deezen). (Know-It-All is, for me, the only character that breaks the illusion of the rest of the story because it's painfully obvious that we're hearing the voice of an adult actor.) Also on the train is the Hobo (played by Tom Hanks), who might be more, or less, than he seems.

Christmas was borne out of Christian beliefs and traditions, yet The Polar Express is not overtly spiritual and doesn't seem to have some hidden Christian agenda. This makes one of the central themes of the movie even more interesting. The story is about faith.

Hero Boy's conversations with the Conductor and the Hobo are centered on faith, on whether or not "seeing is believing." The Hobo is able to sense his doubts but doesn't say anything reassuring. The Conductor, on the other hand, is able to say things that are pointed and direct (and not always subtle) and designed to encourage Hero Boy to make a decision. In the world of this movie, it doesn't pay to sit on the fence. It's implied that Christmas can only be fully enjoyed by those who believe. Children are usually eager to believe; it's only when we enter into adulthood that we grow cynical. Hero Boy has reached that age when we naturally begin to question things. His journey on the Polar Express represents a personal crossroads.

The film contains several great sequences, including one showing the train on ice. In another we follow a golden ticket as it is blown from the train and somehow finds its way back. There is a real sense of danger and excitement as the Hobo and Hero Boy ski atop the train. Many small touches add to the overall effect, including a snowman's arm waving in the breeze.

When the train reaches the North Pole, it's a different place than we've ever seen before in a Christmas movie. This North Pole isn't a quaint little village where toys are crafted by hand. The place is packed with industrial factories where Christmas presents are produced on a massive scale. Everything leads to a rally in the center of the city, and we see thousands of elves awaiting the appearance of Santa. (Of course, it would take thousands of elves to create presents for children all over the world.)

There is a moment, late in the film, when something happens for Hero Boy. It's that moment in the story I live for, the reason I watch The Polar Express every year. The lessons learned by the children have nothing to do with material gifts, but gifts of spirit, friendship, and love.

In his review of the movie, Roger Ebert wrote: "It has a haunting, magical quality because it has imagined its world freshly and played true to it, sidestepping all the tiresome Christmas cliches that children have inflicted on them this time of year." There are a lot of things in The Polar Express that can be enjoyed on the surface. There are also many things worth pondering, if we look a little deeper. The same is true of Christmas.

Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (2003)

2011-10-19T11:14:00.000-07:00

I wish I’d seen Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (2003) in the theater. Something about the TV ads just didn’t pique my interest. When I finally watched it on DVD, I knew it was a great film and, in one respect, that I had missed the boat (pun intended). There are scenes in this movie that were made to be seen on a large screen. You could almost drown in the imagery.

So, since I live in despair for not having seen it on the big screen, why do I love it so much? Because it’s not about the imagery, and it’s not about the action, even though there is plenty. It’s about people of good character. That sounds boring, I know, but it held my interest for the entire film. Working from the novels by Patrick O’Brian, director Peter Weir has created a film that hinges more on the personalities of its main characters and less on their battles at sea.

The film begins with the story already in progress, with England’s HMS Surprise in pursuit of the French war vessel Acheron. The Acheron appears in a fog bank and attacks in a scene both exciting and frightening. Weir and his team give us an unflinching view of men and ships battling each other on the open sea. It’s incredible anyone survives these encounters.

Russell Crowe stars as Captain Jack Aubrey, a good man and leader, and a brilliant sea captain. His sense of strategy and clever use of his ship result in several small victories throughout the film. He feels empathy for his men, but understands his position well enough to keep a certain distance from them; close enough to earn their respect without losing his authority. His best friend is the ship’s surgeon, Dr. Stephen Maturin (Paul Bettany). Maturin’s interest in biology and science make him seem unsuited for life on a ship, but their travels probably take him to places he would not otherwise get to visit. More than anyone, Maturin is the voice of Aubrey’s conscience; the two friends create a nice balance. They do share an interest in music, and will spend an evening playing together, with the captain on violin and the doctor on cello. (Unusual for what was originally marketed as an “action film.”)

Crowe and Bettany’s work here is not in your face. It’s subtler than we anticipate, especially in the way their characters relate to Lord Blakeney (Max Pirkis), a teenaged officer of the crew. Roger Ebert wrote, “With Maturin he shares a passion for biology, and begins a journal filled with sketches of birds and beetles they encounter. Under Aubrey he learns to lead men, to think clearly in battle.” I enjoy watching him learn from his mentors, taking their best qualities as a guide to adulthood.

Most of the film takes place on the Surprise, giving the audience a first-hand view of the cramped, claustrophobic life it must have been. At one point the men give in to superstition and suspect one of the officers of being a Jonah, or bad luck. This section of the movie is almost the scariest. How would you feel if your fellow crew members blamed you for their bad luck, and there was no place to get away from them? The crew regularly feels closed in, with no chance for real privacy.

Another subplot takes Aubrey and his men to the Galapagos Islands, where Darwin would eventually make his discoveries. It provides a nice interlude between the scenes of tension and battle. Without spoiling the story, Aubrey’s decision to stop at the Galapagos provides a point of interest in his personality. He knows when to be tough on his men, is focused on his mission, and shows himself to be a born sea captain. But he also knows when to lean back and regain perspective, and values the men around him.

The friendship between Aubrey and Maturin is the real heart of the film. The battle scenes are thrilling, though. We in the audience are able to stay grounded because we understand the strategy behind what is happening and don’t get lost in the noise and confusion (except when the filmmakers intend for that to happen). Once the ships have moved close enough together to stop using cannons, the crew boards the other ship and they hack at each other with swords. These scenes face the reality of fighting in close quarters.

I’m not sure that I’ve made it sound as exhilarating as it feels. I was in the grip of the story from the very beginning, and came to know the characters as they did their best to do their duty and survive. I observed what a hard life it must have been. And I gained great insight into a strong and fascinating friendship between two men. I was never, in any way, bored. In the end, as I’d hoped, it felt as though I’d been taken on a great adventure.

The Social Network (2010)

2011-10-09T17:26:00.000-07:00

There are times when I’ve found myself obsessed with The Social Network (2010). I’ve watched it countless times, I’ve watched the “making of” documentary numerous times, and I’ve listened to both commentary tracks twice. Director David Fincher has taken Aaron Sorkin’s script, which could almost be described as two hours of people talking, and made it fascinating. For all the talking, this movie is not boring in any way.

It grabs our attention even as we’re still watching the Columbia Pictures logo, and the dialogue begins. It’s fast and intense, and we have to focus immediately or risk spending the entire movie a few steps behind what’s happening. This is not always true; there are segments where the dialogue is more about rhythm than content. When characters begin outlining in detail how they program websites, only a select few in the audience are going to know, or care, what they’re talking about.

The story opens with Mark Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg) having a drink with Erica Albright (Rooney Mara), who—in this film anyway—might be responsible for getting the Facebook ball rolling. Mark is shown to be extremely intelligent, a bit arrogant about that, and, therefore, socially handicapped. He’s brilliant on the level of computer programming, but doesn’t quite know how to relate to another human being, much less talk to a girl over drinks. What happens in the opening scene sets in motion a series of events that will eventually bring about the creation of Facebook.

So. Let’s get a few things out of the way. The Social Network is not about Facebook. It’s about the people who created it and how that came about. This is not a film about computer programming, but about personalities and how they can either click or clash. It’s about social networking in the real world and not so much about the internet. It’s not about the instruments, but the players.

Also, The Social Network is “based on a true story.” That’s what they all say. People complained that the filmmakers had access to the real Mark Zuckerberg but didn’t take advantage of it. Well, of course not. The screenplay is based on a book called “The Accidental Billionaires” by Ben Mezrich. They weren’t making a documentary. The goal was to tell a story and do it in an entertaining way. Have some things been changed? Of course; it’s a movie. Viewers who expect to find factual storytelling in a movie that’s “based on a true story” are fooling themselves.

Okay, back to the film. The first fifteen minutes are the setup, introducing us to most of the characters and establishing the tone and momentum of the entire story. Then the real structure of the film reveals itself as we cut between two depositions and events leading up to Facebook.

After Erica rejects Mark, he creates a site designed to let guys compare the portraits of college girls to decide who’s hotter. The site is so popular the “traffic” shuts down the server at Harvard. Zuckerberg gets in trouble with the administrative board, but attracts the attention of twins Cameron and Tyler Winklevoss (both played by Armie Hammer). They, with their friend Divya Narendra (Max Minghella), offer Mark the chance to build a social networking site that would be unique to Harvard.

Simultaneously, Mark has discussed the same concept with his friend Eduardo Saverin (Andrew Garfield), who will, as CFO, help fund the idea. Eduardo sets up meetings with possible investors to raise money to build what was then called The Facebook. Mark’s roommates are recruited as programmers. The site is an instant hit on campus, but the Winklevoss twins are convinced that Zuckerberg has stolen their idea.

Mark is soon driven to expand the site, but Eduardo’s methods of money-raising are slow and not very successful. And in walks Sean Parker (Justin Timberlake). Fresh from the Napster hoopla, Parker pretty much grabs Mark by the ears and pumps up the momentum. He has problems, which we eventually get to glimpse, but he’s able to set up meetings and attract investors along the West Coast. His efforts far surpass those of Eduardo.

I mentioned two depositions. One is for a lawsuit involving Mark versus the Winklevoss twins and Divya Narendra for “stealing” their idea. The other is for a lawsuit between Mark and Eduardo. As a possible manipulation set up by Sean Parker, Eduardo signs papers that essentially write him out of the company. “You’re gonna blame me because you were the business head of the company, and you made a bad business deal with your own company?” Mark asks. Sean Parker may appear in the movie to be slightly shady, but he’s clearly smart enough and savvy enough to help get Facebook off the ground. Eduardo, whether it’s wrong or right, can’t compete and gets left behind.

One brilliant sequence shows the Winklevoss twins competing with their rowing team at the Henley Royal Regatta. It’s photographed in a slightly different manner than the rest of the film, and is also different because of its lack of dialogue. The music during this scene is a new version of Edvard Grieg’s “In the Hall of the Mountain King” by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross. (Incidentally, Reznor and Ross won the Academy Award for Best Original Score for their work on The Social Network.) There’s something thrilling about how this scene is put together. What does it have to do with the rest of the story? First, it shows the Winklevoss twins barely finishing in second place, which is a metaphor for their dealings with Mark Zuckerberg. Second, it takes us away from all the geekiness and computer speak and gives the audience somewhat of a short break.

The surprise performance in the movie is by Justin Timberlake. It’s ironic, really, having a Grammy-award winning singer play the man who invented Napster and tried to rip off the music industry. But Timberlake is very good here; he’s got the intelligence and charisma to seduce Mark and bring Facebook into The Big Time. Andrew Garfield, by contrast, makes Eduardo sympathetic as Mark’s only friend, but it takes him a long time to even comprehend what has happened.

At the center of it all is an unflinching performance by Jesse Eisenberg as Mark Zuckerberg. He’s mentioned in interviews that there were certain things about the real Zuckerberg he tried to bring to the role, but is he playing the real Zuckerberg? No, he’s playing a character, and he does it wonderfully. He’s able to let the audience see his mind working faster than anybody else’s, completely focused on his goal, even to the point of losing his friends.

The Social Network, thanks to its directing and writing and acting, is quite a ride, never slowing down enough for us to catch our breath. By the end, we’ve seen relationships shatter, but we can’t stop watching because it’s presented in such a fascinating way. One character in the film describes Facebook as “freakishly addictive.” It is, and this movie has had almost the same effect on me. But I did walk away from the theater convinced that the important thing to do was not spend more time on Facebook, but to spend time strengthening my connections with other people in the real world.

(Please note: This is not a family-friendly film; it is very PG-13.)

The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)

2011-09-30T20:30:00.000-07:00

The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Just by listening to people pronounce the title will tell you if they're fans of the Victor Hugo story or of a certain football team. The Walt Disney version, released in 1996, was unique because it was re-imagined as a musical, with a rich score by Alan Menken and wonderful lyrics by Stephen Schwartz.

Menken, who wrote the scores for The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast and Aladdin, had recently collaborated on Pocahontas with Schwartz, who would go on to write Wicked. These are two of the best writers in musical theater for the last twenty-five years. Their work in Hunchback sets a high standard.

You wouldn’t think that a deformed hunchback could gain your affection, but Quasimodo (voice by Tom Hulce) is a winner from the very beginning. His looks and body language invite pity, but he wins us over with personality and heart. It’s a wonder that Quasimodo is so nice and innocent, having been raised, hidden from view, by the corrupt Judge Frollo (voice by Tony Jay). Quasi, as he’s called in the film, is forever banned from venturing outside the walls of Notre Dame. Frollo has tried to raise him in fear of the outside world, but Quasimodo’s curiosity has only grown through a life spent as an observer.

Among those to be observed is Esmeralda (voice by Demi Moore), a beautiful gypsy. She attracts the attention of all three male leads in the story: Quasimodo, Frollo, and Phoebus (voice by Kevin Kline), the captain of the guard who is ordered by Frollo to hunt down and exterminate the gypsies.

What’s interesting about this is the “love triangle” formed by Quasimodo, Esmeralda, and Phoebus. Quasi is clearly meant to be the hero of the story, but we like Phoebus a lot, too. We can tell from his entrance that he’s a good man and soldier, but begins to have second thoughts about his recent assignment, especially when he becomes attracted to Esmeralda. So we have two characters that we like, both in love with the girl. Which one will she choose? Someone’s heart is inevitably going to be broken. How often does that happen in a Disney movie?

It’s easy to see why the men are so enchanted by Esmeralda. She’s beautiful, smart, kind, and tough. And watch out for her goat. In one inspiring scene, she sings “God Help the Outcasts,” which is surprisingly spiritual in nature. The lyrics in some of the songs are more thoughtful that we expect, and more honest. (As a neat bit of trivia, even the Latin sung by a chorus as part of the score was adapted by Stephen Schwartz to reflect what we are seeing.) Because of the discrimination she has faced all of her life, Esmeralda is able to connect with Quasimodo and help him see that he is facing the same thing. She helps Phoebus to see the gypsies as people and set aside any racism.

Frollo is an entirely different matter. He is evil in the guise of good, acting as a righteous judge of the people and even, in the song “Hellfire,” trying to invoke divine powers to help him destroy Esmeralda and her kind if she will not choose to be with him. He is corrupt to the core. The lies he tells Quasimodo about the outside world are twisted and subtle, able to inspire guilt and confusion. His lust for Esmeralda is disturbing. Frollo is extremely effective because he’s one of the most realistic villains to ever appear in a Disney film.

This story has deep meaning, and stirs issues that parents could use as teaching opportunities for their children. I think it’s probably one of the most underrated of the Disney films because people didn’t expect it to cut so deep. As much as I love and admire the other movies in the Disney canon, I find it hard to identify with mermaids, transformed beasts, African lions, and half-humans/half-gods like Hercules. (Maybe I’m over-simplifying, but I’m trying to make a point.) I found it all too easy to identify with characters that are discriminated against because of physical appearance, race, religion, social status, or any other difference. For me, this story is endlessly compelling.

There are three more characters I’ve neglected to mention. These are the gargoyles that keep Quasi company in the upper towers of the cathedral. Victor (voice by Charles Kimbrough), Hugo (voice by Jason Alexander), and Laverne (voice by Mary Wickes) are unique to this version of the story. They act as a sort of cheerleading group for Quasi, helping him gain strength and confidence, and bring plenty of comic relief to their scenes. (Laverne gets what is probably the biggest laugh in the movie with a reference to The Wizard of Oz.)

The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996) was a pre-cursor to much of the computer-generated special effects we enjoy today. The CGI-enhanced crowd scenes were among the first of their kind. The camera was able to move in ways that were impossible in live-action films at the time, especially in the “Sanctuary” scene near the end. Nowadays the camera can go wherever a filmmaker can imagine, but no matter how good the special effects, in the back of our minds we still know that it’s a special effect.

I feel like maybe I’ve made it sound dark and depressing, and it is one of the darker Disney films. But it has a sweep and excitement and intensity to it, with scenes of adventure balanced by scenes about human nature. It was directed by Gary Trousdale and Kirk Wise, who also directed the equally wonderful Beauty and the Beast.

The movie is narrated by the gypsy Clopin (voice by Paul Kandel), who sings “The Bells of Notre Dame” at the beginning and the end. By the end of the story the words of his song take on new meaning. And the song we hear during the end credits, “Someday,” is not about romantic love, but about hope for a better world.

I love this movie.

Monster House (2006)

2011-09-04T21:21:00.000-07:00

Most of us have seen movies with monsters in the basement, but how would you like to see one where the house is the monster? What if the executive producers were Robert Zemeckis and Steven Spielberg? What if it was shot using motion-capture? And the voice talent included Steve Buscemi, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Kevin James, Nick Cannon, Jason Lee, Fred Willard, Jon Heder, Catherine O’Hara and Kathleen Turner? Yes, please!

I’m a sucker for movies with friendship at the center, and Monster House (2006) falls in that category. DJ and Chowder share one of the more realistic movie friendships I can recall. They act like a pair of real boys. While DJ (voice by Mitchel Musso) attempts to convince the adults around him that he is “practically a grownup,” Chowder (voice by Sam Lerner), with his little red cape, seems determined to bask in the glow of childhood forever. Their friendship gets temporarily strained when they both crush on the same girl, but they’re able to move beyond such distractions.

The adult figures featured in the story are all seen from the perspective of the boys, generally as unreasonable and lacking in understanding. DJ says that monster houses are “too much for the adult mind to comprehend,” which seems true when the boys’ warnings of danger are largely ignored. His parents (voices by Fred Willard and Catherine O’Hara), who conveniently leave for a couple of days, seem a bit flighty and unconcerned. Even DJ’s babysitter Zee (voice by Maggie Gyllenhaal) is focused only on her own wants and her creepy boyfriend Bones (voice by Jason Lee).

As the movie opens, DJ is spying on his neighbor across the street, Mr. Nebbercracker (voice by Steve Buscemi). Nebbercracker is a piece of work, instantly enraged when any child sets foot on his lawn. DJ and Chowder have a close encounter with the old crank, but he appears to have a heart attack and collapses on poor DJ. As an ambulance drives away from the scene, the two boys assume that Nebbercracker has died.

Through events I won’t describe, DJ and Chowder come to the conclusion that Mr. Nebbercracker’s house is possessed by none other than Mr. Nebbercracker’s spirit. They barely succeed in rescuing Jenny (voice by Spencer Locke) from being eaten by the house as she sells Halloween candy door to door. Since adversity seems to breed camaraderie, Jenny teams up with the boys to find a way to bring down the house (no pun intended).

After the kids call the cops (voices by Kevin James and Nick Cannon) and are met with major skepticism, they decide to go to an “expert”: Skull (voice by Jon Heder), the pizza delivery nerd who’s hooked on an arcade game. With his counsel they decide to infiltrate the house and strike at its “source of life,” which they figure is the furnace. The way they plan to do this has to be seen to be believed.

Much of the enjoyment of Monster House comes from a lot of clever little surprises and moments of humor. For me to describe any more of the story would spoil the fun, but I can describe the experience and characters.

Steve Buscemi is wonderful as Mr. Nebbercracker. His character reveals unexpected layers when we learn the reasons behind his behavior. His is probably the most well-rounded performance in the movie. Maggie Gyllenhaal has fun with Zee, the babysitter with sass, and Jason Lee’s work as her boyfriend Bones is completely different from his work as Syndrome in Pixar’s The Incredibles. Some of the biggest laughs come from Kevin James and Nick Cannon, the dynamic duo of policemen. They never quite realize what they’re up against.

What’s really at the heart of the story is the friendship between the three kids, who at all times act like kids. They are never, at any point in the story, too clever. They figure things out gradually. Part of the humor of their first attack on the house is the way the plan sounds like something a group of kids would concoct. And the way they stick together, then fight and bicker, and then get over it, is just the way real kids behave.

Like The Polar Express, this film looks animated but actually uses motion-capture. This brings a lot of realism to the performances. Gil Kenan’s direction and Ed Verreaux’s production design give the movie a fresh look we haven’t quite seen before. The design of the house in particular is very effective, especially near the end when we see what it can really do. And the music by Douglas Pipes is at times appropriately scary (but not too scary), and at other times lends the story the right amount of adventure.

The animated look of the movie makes a lot of people think it’s just a show made for kids, but adults who enjoyed Halloween when they were young probably get a bigger kick out of it. In fact, watching Monster House has become a Halloween tradition in my family.

The Karate Kid (2010)

2011-07-31T14:25:00.000-07:00

It could be argued that The Karate Kid (1984) is a classic. Even if they haven’t seen it, everyone is familiar with some of the lines or character names. Pat Morita’s portrayal of Mr. Miyagi is embedded in the public consciousness. Everybody knows about “wax on, wax off.” The number of American children learning karate increased dramatically after the movie’s release. The underdog story was given a fresh treatment by writer Robert Mark Kamen. Three sequels followed, but none of them could live up to the original.

As it happens, I like the 2010 version even better. I have to admit I had my doubts when I first heard about it. The thought of Jackie Chan and Will Smith’s son remaking The Karate Kid didn’t sound promising, but I was more than pleasantly surprised. Instead of a boy and his mother moving from New Jersey to Southern California, we see a boy and his mother (played by Taraji P. Henson) moving from Detroit to China. Talk about adding a whole new dynamic to the fish out of water element of the story.

Dre Parker (Jaden Smith) can’t speak Chinese, and he’s smaller than the boys that pick on him. He quickly makes friends with Meiying (Wenwen Han), a virtuoso violinist, but his efforts are hampered by her disapproving parents and the bullying of Cheng (Zhenwei Wang). The only person who reaches out to help him is the maintenance man, Mr. Han (Jackie Chan).

After Mr. Han rescues Dre from a gang of bullies, Dre convinces Mr. Han to teach him kung fu. Mr. Han has no choice but to teach Dre to defend himself, especially after they meet Master Li (Rongguang Yu), the teacher of Cheng and a master bully. He doesn’t teach kung fu as it is defined by Mr. Han, but teaches pain and fear. He and Mr. Han reach an agreement that Dre will compete against the other boys in a tournament, in the hope that Dre will earn their respect and be left alone.

Students of the original film will recognize many lines of dialogue. The story is somehow made fresh again by the actors, and especially by the exotic locations that lend a whole new atmosphere to a familiar storyline. Scenes that appear familiar are given a twist to show that this is no mere retread. This version can stand on its own.

In the original, Mr. Miyagi saves Daniel from Johnny and his gang with a show of karate that is almost laughable today. I don’t say this to diminish the original, but movies have changed a lot in 25 years. When Mr. Han rescues Dre, there is a level of skill not present in the original. Combining the direction of Harald Zwart, Jackie Chan’s abilities, and the music of James Horner, this scene brought action and humor together in a way that I felt brought a new level of excitement to the movie. It’s thrilling to watch.

The scenes involving bullying are well done. We are constantly finding out what a widespread problem bullying is in our schools nowadays. The first time Dre and Cheng face off, Dre strikes Cheng in the face and knocks him down, but Cheng immediately, and impressively, springs to his feet. This is a kid not to be messed with. But Dre is not able to talk to his mother about his problems. I found this to be realistic. It’s not always easy for kids to talk to their parents about such things. If only every bullied kid had a Mr. Han who could step in to help and teach.

In their “lessons” together, Dre hardly feels he could be learning kung fu. I especially liked the scene where he realizes what he’s been learning all along (“Everything is kung fu.”) The timing in this scene, the music, the acting, everything comes together for powerful effect. Jackie Chan plays Mr. Han differently from his “usual” roles: He’s older, quieter, and wiser. Not to be forgotten, Jaden Smith does a wonderful job as Dre, inheriting his father’s ability to win our sympathy with humor and likeability as he makes a convincing transition throughout the movie.

The real heart of the movie is the friendship between Dre and Mr. Han. The likelihood of these two characters becoming close is very slim, but Jaden Smith and Jackie Chan make it seem plausible. Mr. Han has to teach Dre manners and respect before they can really make progress in their lessons, and he does it in small, well-observed ways. In a key scene between the two friends, Dre finds out about Mr. Han’s painful past, but uses what he has learned to show his teacher great respect and offer him strength.

As in the original, the final scenes feature a tournament with not unpredictable results. Dre has to face off against many of his opponents from school, and the audience is somehow able to follow the characters as they progress through the competition. Even when you know how events will unfold, the scene is handled well and creates the necessary amount of suspense and tension.

To be fair, would I like this version so much if the original didn’t exist? Impossible to say. I don’t intend for this essay to only draw comparisons. I thoroughly enjoyed this take on the story. But this version wouldn’t exist without the original, and it’s fun to see that it still works. Stories of underdogs and unlikely friends are always enjoyable when they’re told correctly, and The Karate Kid (2010) is a great retelling of a good story.

Up (2009)

2011-07-13T21:13:00.000-07:00

Sometimes when I go to a movie, I can tell as I’m watching it that it will be a part of me for the rest of my life. Sometimes my emotional response is so complete and unmistakable that I know I will be able to re-visit it multiple times and get the same thrill. Sometimes the emotional truth blindsides me and there’s no question in my mind that I’m watching a great film.

Up (2009) is that kind of movie, a great story, well told. In the Pixar canon, it instantly became my favorite, even though all of the Pixar movies are wonderful. None of their films are even mediocre. But seeing Up for the first time, I knew I was watching something special.

How many movies can you think of with an old man as the main character? There are some, but not many. How many can you think of with a kid who acts like a kid, and isn’t blessed with movie wisdom that marvels adults? How many movies feature a dog that acts like a real dog? Ever seen a house float away as it’s carried by balloons?

There are many things that make Up a unique experience (all the Pixar films are like this, to some extent). One element that can’t be rivaled is near the beginning, showing the complete marriage of Carl and Ellie. An entire shared life is compacted into a powerful sequence with absolutely no dialogue. And, fittingly, it’s hard to find words to describe its beauty. We don’t just watch it, we experience it.

Not many movies show such a complete history of one life, and by the time we see Carl (voice by Ed Asner) living alone, we wonder how much more story his life could hold. Plenty, that’s how much. He meets Russell (voice by Jordan Nagai), an eager little Wilderness Explorer, and through events I won’t describe, they end up traveling together in Carl’s house to find Paradise Falls in South America. The scene where Carl’s house lifts off is enchanting and romantic.

Carl is cranky, old, and wants to be left alone. Russell, who isn’t “too smart,” as many movie children are, is a good foil for Carl. Carl represents a father figure to the boy, who is the son that Carl never had. Their interactions for the first half of the movie provide a lot of humor that’s funny because it’s so familiar and real to life.

When they reach South America, they encounter Dug (voice by co-writer Bob Peterson), who is the most realistic dog I’ve ever seen in a movie. Most movie animals can do all kinds of tricks and solve all kinds of problems. Not Dug. He’s as easily distracted and eager to please as any real dog. And full of unconditional love, as only a dog can be. Dug is able to speak through a special collar made for him by his owner, Charles Muntz (voice by Christopher Plummer). Muntz, who was the childhood hero of Carl, has been living near Paradise Falls for years in search of an exotic bird, and the repair of his reputation. He has many dogs, all of them outfitted with collars that allow them to speak. He is very shrewd, but Carl and Russell discovery that he’s been away from civilization a bit too long.

One interesting factor in the story is Carl’s attachment to his house, which in his mind represents Ellie. The house is almost another character in the movie. Much of the effect is achieved through Michael Giacchino’s Oscar-winning score. Ellie’s Theme, introduced when Carl and Ellie meet as children, is used throughout the movie to represent the memory of Ellie and her spirit of adventure. But Giacchino is able to let the theme evolve into different forms, sometimes heroic, sometimes nostalgic and bittersweet, and finally as an emblem of love and friendship. The images in the film, combined with the power of the music, are able to make me cry with sadness, and then cry again with happiness. Not many films can do both.

I’ve glossed over much of the story, but the joy of adventure is in the experience and can’t be fully appreciated in the mere telling. It’s pleasantly surprising to find a story that focuses on two old men and a kid. We live in a society that is obsessed with youth, but director Pete Doctor and his team take a good look at life in its later stages. What a rare thing to find in an animated family film.

Up won the Oscar for Best Animated Feature of 2009, and was the 10th film released by Pixar. The Pixar films have shown us worlds through the eyes of toys, bugs, monsters, fish, cars, super heroes, rats, robots, and now through the eyes of an old man. How would it be to look back on a life rich with happy memories? Living a full life is the real adventure.

So I have a few words to share about the last shot. (I’m assuming that anyone who is reading this has seen the film.) I’m talking about the shot of Carl’s house resting on Paradise Falls. In the commentary track with Pete Doctor, Bob Peterson says, “I don’t even read it as literal. I just read it as: he completed what he needed to do. In reaching out to Russell, he did get the house to the Falls.” Well put.

Up is also a great title, because that is where my heart went as I was watching it.

Random Ramblings: Thinking vs Entertainment

2011-07-10T18:09:00.000-07:00

Almost every discussion I have with someone about movies reveals that such things are purely subjective. What is entertaining to one person may be boring to another; what is horrifying to me might make another person laugh. But there are probably a few general rules of good taste with which most people agree. For the purposes of this essay I will break the subjects down to "movies that merely entertain" and "movies that make us think."

What do I mean by “movies that merely entertain”? Movies that have little depth, are not challenging, do not contain original ideas, have predictable plots, recycle plots and characters from earlier movies but with a "modern twist" (not necessarily a re-make), have wall-to-wall action with no purpose to it, confuse the viewer, bore the serious moviegoer, and/or contain no emotional truth.

That is not an exhaustive definition, but maybe you understand what I mean. But there are always exceptions to the rule. Just because a movie is "deep" doesn't mean it's not entertaining. To a certain degree, all movies should, first and foremost, be entertaining. Otherwise, why watch them at all? Truly exceptional movies go beyond the entertainment level and engage our thoughts and feelings.

...Depending on who you are and what your tastes are. Some people don't want to watch movies with any depth, don't want anything required in the way of a thought process, but want to simply sit and watch. Is this wrong? Of course not. There is no right and wrong. Are there better experiences to be had? Certainly, but only for those who yearn for more.

Now, what do I mean by “movies that make us think”? Let’s briefly discuss a few.

Gabriele Muccino’s Seven Pounds stars Will Smith, which is probably why many people went to see it, but it surprises us with characters that make their own choices and aren’t slaves to a plot. What really surprises us is the final act of one of the characters, something the movie was leading up to all along. It is a powerful story, but we, as the audience, are left to decide how we feel about what has happened.

The first time I saw Seven Pounds I didn’t want to talk to anyone about it for a few hours. The issues it raised needed to settle in my mind before I was comfortable discussing them. Are the final actions in the movie noble or misguided? Could a sane and rational person make the same decisions, or were they the result of circumstance pushing a mind over the edge? What makes this intriguing, for me, is that the movie raises these issues so gently through the simple act of presentation. No comment or discussion. That is left for the viewer.

Let’s move on to Clint Eastwood’s Hereafter. Matt Damon plays a psychic who might really be able to communicate with the dead, Cecile de France plays a journalist who survives a near-death experience, and Frankie and George McLaren play twins who are very close until one dies in an accident. All these stories connect at the end, but we’re left to decide a few things. Is Matt Damon’s character really psychic? The movie is careful not to convince us that he’s not, but it could also be argued that the evidence doesn’t prove that he is. He doesn’t tell people anything they couldn’t have created in their own minds, and there’s the possibility that he is more telepathic than psychic. Mr. Eastwood and his screenwriter, Peter Morgan, leave the possibilities open.

Christopher Nolan’s Inception is the latest and greatest example of a movie that entertains and makes you think. You have to; so many things are happening on so many different levels (literally), that you have to be completely mentally engaged to understand what is happening. Nolan reportedly worked on the story for ten years before making it into a movie, and it shows. There’s a complexity to it that is rare and exciting. But it all boils down to a brilliant last shot that some people will find extremely frustrating, but I found to be thrilling. Was it all in the mind of Leonardo DiCaprio’s character, or did it really happen? You have no choice but to decide for yourself. (Of course, I do have an opinion about this and what I think is evidence to support my decision, but that is for another essay.)

Probably one of the most misunderstood “thinking” movies to come out recently is Alex Proyas’s Knowing. I love this movie. Nicolas Cage plays a man who comes upon a page of numbers that seem to predict the time and place of many disasters, leading up to the end of the world. His character is a college professor whose discussions of these matters with a colleague seem to be completely rooted in reality. The story raises many issues about predictions and patterns, but the characters actually discuss the issues! That in itself is impressive. In other “end-of-the-world” movies, the characters hardly discuss the implications of what is happening and are reduced to shouting their dialogue over special effects.

The real problem people seem to have with Knowing is entirely different. There are characters, credited as the Strangers, whose function is generally misinterpreted. The story even dares to involve religious implications and possibilities, but director Alex Proyas purposefully walks the line between religion and science. I don’t want to give anything away, and will probably write about this in a future essay, but the ending is careful not to lean one way or the other. I like that. I like the ambiguity. I also enjoyed listening to the director’s commentary where he discussed it in more detail. So we are left with another “open” ending, where the audience has to decide what really took place.

Could this type of story be abused? Definitely. In the movies I’ve mentioned, I think the stories are well told. In other movies, you may feel like the director is jerking your chain. Much of the effect depends on the viewer. Roger Ebert wrote in his review of Letters to Juliet, “…our response to every film depends on the person we bring to it. Pauline Kael said she went to a movie, the movie happened, and she wrote about what changed within her after she saw it. This is quite valid. Sometimes, however, we go to a movie, and our lives have happened, and we write about what hasn’t changed.”

These are movies I love, but not everyone will feel the same. That’s OK. There are all kinds of movies for all kinds of audiences. Even though I want to use my brain during a movie, I still want to have fun. Sherlock Holmes is a great example of this. And sometimes I want to see a “dumb” comedy like RV. So sue me, I’m human. But I think we can get caught in a steady diet of “fast food” films, when there are many out there that can challenge, inspire and uplift. Finding the right balance is up to you.

Random Ramblings: Alone in the Dark

2010-04-18T22:05:00.000-07:00

(The movie essays will continue, but for now it seems appropriate to cover more abstract subjects.)

A friend of mine recently made the comment that he would have probable enjoyed a movie more if he had seen it with me. That got me to thinking: Does our experience of watching a movie change depending on who is watching with us? What if we watch alone? Does watching a movie with another person make a difference? I think it depends on the moviegoer.

I usually go to movies alone. Some people have tried to convince me that this is socially unacceptable, but I think viewing movies can be an intensely personal experience. (Same goes for other forms of art.) If the movie I'm watching is a good one, it seems to make less of a difference whether or not someone is with me. I'll find myself pulled into the story, emotionally involved, and the world around me no longer holds my attention. The only thing that can break my concentration is the rudeness of other people in the theater, but that's an entirely different subject.

If the movie I'm watching is bad, the experience is completely different―I want someone to be there with me so we can both make "clever" comments about what we're watching. This can make watching a bad movie a little more bearable because you can still have a bit of fun. But if the movie is bad and you're alone, the suffering is yours to bear and can't be alleviated with playful banter. Should you walk out? I never have. Not only do I want to know the complete story, but I also hold on to the hope that the film will get better and somehow redeem itself.

Something I've learned to do while watching movies is to laugh freely when I find something funny, whether or not I'm alone. But if I'm with someone and don't find the film amusing, I won't laugh just for the sake of it, no matter how much the other person is enjoying the show. "To thine own self be true..."

There have been a couple of times when I got the feeling that I was laughing harder than anyone else in the room. It didn't cause me to feel self-conscious, but to feel that it was too bad nobody was enjoying what they were watching as much as I was. Different kinds of stories reach people on different levels, I guess.

Having someone with me during a good movie would enhance the experience, I think, in only one way: after the movie, I would have someone with which to discuss what we just watched. Sometimes that makes the memory of the movie even more stimulating, especially if you're able to talk to someone who is an observant moviegoer.

Talking about movies we like is easy, and so is talking about movies we don't, but what's harder is breaking down the "why." This is where conversations can deepen and a person's true thoughts and feelings can be revealed. When a person says they don’t like a particular film, usually they haven’t thought it through enough to know why. It’s just a gut feeling for most people. But having to actually explain your reasons for disliking something forces you to focus your thoughts. The process can help clarify what it is you enjoy, and steer you away from what you won’t.

One of the unique qualities of a movie (or a play/musical, or a concert) is the chance to have a "collective" experience. Not every single person in the audience will react the same way, but there is a power in shared experiences. It can give very different people common ground on which they can connect. These shared experiences can spark conversations between unlikely friends, and reveal how people think, what their tastes are, and where they stand on any given social issue.

So, as a moviegoer, does having a viewing companion make the experience better? Maybe.

Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit (2005)

2009-06-26T08:19:00.001-07:00

There is a part of me that yearns for silliness, and the adventures of Wallace and Gromit fulfill those yearnings. After three short films they are now in their first full-length feature, and I couldn’t be happier with the results. Two of the previous shorts were reminiscent of the work of Alfred Hitchcock, but Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit (2005) embraces the classic horror film genre and throws in a large dose of British humor.

In this movie the world of Wallace and Gromit is expanded, there are many more characters, and the scope of their adventure is on a slightly grander scale. This time they form the Anti-Pesto team, saving the eccentric locals from a rabbit infestation which threatens their gardens on the very eve of the upcoming vegetable competition. Anti-Pesto’s humane solution to the problem (which includes using a “Bun-Vac” to suck the little blighters right out of the ground) suits Lady Tottington (voice by Helena Bonham Carter), who oversees the annual competition. She and Wallace (voice by Peter Sallis) begin an amusing flirtation which angers her jealous suitor, Victor Quartermaine (voice by Ralph Fiennes).

But soon the town vegetables are under attack from a “were-rabbit,” and there is talk of canceling the vegetable competition. It falls to Wallace and Gromit to capture the beast, which turns out to be a more complicated task than they anticipate. Their efforts are not aided by the interference of Victor Quartermaine, who would rather kill a rabbit rather than merely capture it. At first he seems to be just a twit with a toupee and a gun, but later becomes more desperate in his attempts to stop Anti-Pesto and get his hands on Lady Tottington’s estate.

And that’s enough of the plot. Anyone familiar with classic horror films will be able to see what’s coming, but what makes the movie fun is having the genre filtered through the minds of creator Nick Park and his co-director, Steve Box. There are so many fun little moments and throwaway gags, but I must resist resorting to list-making. People who are familiar with the short films of Wallace and Gromit will get the in-jokes, but the film can be enjoyed by those who are just discovering these characters.

The town locals add color to the story, especially Lady Tottington and Victor, but what really matters is the unique friendship between Wallace and Gromit. Wallace is a rather brilliant inventor, but his inventions have a way of causing unexpected trouble. Usually it is Gromit who comes to the rescue. I love that Gromit doesn’t speak. Of course he doesn’t; he’s a dog. I once threw away a book about screenwriting when it declared that complexity of character can only be created with dialogue. I disagree, and present Gromit as Exhibit A. Besides, Wallace talks enough for both of them. I’m sure Gromit would agree.

The entire story is told with tongue firmly in cheek. I think this film would fall into the category of “British eccentricity,” but that doesn’t keep it from being accessible. I don’t imagine that the style of humor in this movie will be to everyone’s liking, but I remember laughing pretty hard when I saw it in the theater. (Interestingly, this was the second stop-motion animation film release in two weeks, following Tim Burton's Corpse Bride, which is also enchanting, but in an entirely different way.) I have so many favorite moments, but what it boils down to is this: I enjoyed every moment. It’s a bloody good show.

Bridge to Terabithia (2007)

2009-01-25T14:09:00.000-08:00

I never read Bridge to Terabithia when I was in school. I don’t know why; the book was first published in 1977, the year I was born, and has been read in classrooms ever since. My sister read it and later told the story to me (I remember thinking what a strange word “Terabithia” seemed to be). By the time the movie came along I had forgotten all but the general outlines of the story. After watching the movie I quickly read the book and was pleased to find that everything worth loving in the book is in the movie, and that a few things have been developed and strengthened.

Bridge to Terabithia (2007) tells the story of Jess Aarons (Josh Hutcherson). A talented artist, and a bit of an outsider, Jess comes from a good family that has fallen on hard times when money is tight and everybody feels the strain. He’s bullied at school and doesn’t seem to have any friends. His little sister May Belle (Bailee Madison) tags along and looks up to him, but seems to mostly get on his nerves. He also has a crush on his music teacher, Miss Edmunds (Zooey Deschanel).

When Jess’s new neighbor Leslie Burke (AnnaSophia Robb) joins his class, they tentatively strike up a friendship. Leslie has a unique style of dress and a sunny disposition, and immediately becomes somewhat of an outcast. But Jess and Leslie’s friendship exists outside the realms of what the other kids at school think. As their friendship deepens, Leslie is able to unlock Jess’s imagination. As they play in the woods near their homes, they create the imaginary kingdom of Terabithia, where Jess and Leslie are the rulers and defenders, and where they can get away from everyday worries.

At this point I must mention that the marketing campaign for Bridge to Terabithia was horribly misleading. The scenes where Jess and Leslie are in Terabithia are seen with great detail to illustrate the power of their combined imaginations. Unfortunately, these were the scenes the movie ads focused on, making it look like some kind of low-rent fantasy film. People complained that the movie doesn’t have enough fantasy in it, that it didn’t meet their expectations, not realizing that, since they were grossly misinformed, their expectations were unrealistic. This is a movie about real life, and about true friendship.

Leslie is the friend that Jess needs, and Jess turns out to be the friend that Leslie needs, too. When Jess sees the way Leslie interacts with her parents, they seem to have a connection that Jess doesn’t have with his own family, but we’re also able to see that Jess has things in his life that Leslie doesn’t have. Josh Hutcherson and AnnaSophia Robb are entirely convincing as the two unlikely friends. Josh Hutcherson is likable and easily gains our sympathy, and AnnaSophia Robb has one of the brightest smiles you’ll ever see.

I have never related to a movie character the way I have with Jess Aarons. It really takes me back to how it felt to be that age, the desire to become an artist, the bullying at school, the dependence on imaginary worlds. Certain moments in this movie reminded me so strongly of my own life that I couldn’t believe how fully drawn in I was by the characters and the story.

The movie gets so many details right: the way we can love our family members and be annoyed with them at the same time; the way some kids pick on others for seemingly no reason; the way kids view adults; the way your imagination becomes an all-important way to escape when things are hard at school and at home.

I love how the music by Aaron Zigman reflects the adventurous feeling that Jess and Leslie share when they’re together. I like how, after they have fun in Terabithia, the movie cuts to the very ordinary-looking Aarons home. I like that Miss Edmunds, Jess’s first crush, is the one that takes him to a museum for the first time and encourages him as an artist. And I admire the handling of a prank that Jess and Leslie play on the bully Janice Avery (Lauren Clinton) after she goes too far. The results are unexpected and serious, but in ways we don’t anticipate.

One of the best things about the movie is how the characters are given full dimensions. People have more depth to their personalities than we can see at first, which Jess comes to realize. Even his teacher, “Monster Mouth” Myers (Jen Wolfe), is revealed to have human feelings. Through much of the film, Jess’s dad (Robert Patrick) is hard on his son, but when times are tough, that’s how kids sometimes see their parents. We eventually get to see just how much Jess’s dad really cares and understands.

I tend to get defensive when I discuss Bridge to Terabithia. Part of the reason why is due to the poor marketing, but another part of it is due to the feeling that people misunderstand the purpose of the story. I think it shows how things really are in our lives, the good and the bad. I think the ultimate point of the story is to show us how to cope, how to rise above, and how to draw strength from friendship and family. Just like in real life.

King Kong (2005)

2009-01-16T09:14:00.000-08:00

If anybody knows how to film an epic, it’s Peter Jackson. He first proved himself with the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and then turned to re-making the favorite film of his childhood. King Kong (2005) is a grand adventure, taking all the possibilities of the original and bringing them to fruition.

First of all, it is a three-hour movie. I have no problem with that. There are a couple of sequences that go on just a tad too long, but I enjoyed being wrapped within the story. To paraphrase what Roger Ebert wrote about The Best of Youth (which is six hours long!), “when you hear that it is [three] hours long, reflect that it is therefore [three] hours deep.”

Jackson wisely does not even show us the giant ape for the first hour. Instead, the various stories of the human characters are well-established. By the time Kong does arrive on screen, the story is able to devote full attention to his relationship with Ann Darrow (Naomi Watts) without getting bogged down with the task of developing the other characters.

The first hour of the film lays the groundwork as the story begins in Depression-era New York City, circa 1933. Among those we meet are: Ann Darrow, a vaudeville performer who has just lost her job; Carl Denham (Jack Black), a desperate movie director who casts Ann as the new female lead in his movie, even though the studio executives have just pulled the plug; Jack Driscoll (Adrien Brody), the playwright who is writing Denham’s movie; and Captain Englehorn (Thomas Kretschmann), on whose ship the characters are traveling to the mythic Skull Island.

This Skull Island is some place. Our heroes first encounter a disturbingly bizarre native tribe, and then have to fight off all kinds of creatures: dinosaurs, giant insects (lots of ‘em), man-eating slugs, giant bat-like creatures, and Kong himself. At one point, the men are caught in a dinosaur stampede and the digital effects aren’t quite as convincing as they could be. To quote Roger Ebert again: “But special effects do not need to be convincing if they are effective, and Jackson trades a little realism for a lot of impact and momentum.”

Kong himself is the best special effect, given life through the motion-capture work of the amazing Andy Serkis. All of his skill is brought home in the key scene of the movie, when Ann uses her instincts as a performer and somehow entertains the giant ape. One last quote from Ebert: “The scene is crucial because it removes the element of creepiness in the gorilla/girl relationship in the two earlier Kongs (1933 and 1976), creating a wordless bond that allows her to trust him. …The movie more or less faithfully follows the outlines of the original film, but this fundamental adjustment in the relationship between the beauty and the beast gives it heart, a quality the earlier film was lacking. Yes, Kong in 1933 cares for his captive, but she doesn’t care so much for him. Kong was always misunderstood, but in the 2005 film there is someone who knows it.”

At this point in the film, Kong becomes Ann’s personal protector. They even share a beautiful sunset in a scene that makes subtle use of James Newton Howard’s gentle music. The character of Ann was primarily a screamer, but now she is given more depth than Fay Wray was ever allowed in the original film. Many of Naomi Watts’s scenes with Kong have very little dialogue and involve quiet looks of curiosity and understanding.

I have hardly mentioned the other performances. Jack Black makes a good Carl Denham. In the original movie the character was sort of based on Cecil B. de Mille, but now seems a bit more like Orson Welles. But this is not a comedy role, and Black is effective in the moments when his assistant, Preston (Colin Hanks), begins to see just how deep Denham’s obsession really goes. Adrien Brody is wonderful as the writer falling in love with Ann, who will have to survive Skull Island if he wants to write comedies. The supporting performances by Thomas Kretschmann, Kyle Chandler, Jamie Bell and Evan Parke are equally effective.

Fans of the original film will be able to recognize plenty of lines of dialogue that are spoken in this version, albeit a little more convincingly. There are necessary changes, but Jackson is faithful and pays homage to the original, sometimes in ways that are not so obvious. Even the credits at the end of the movie resemble the credits of the 1933 version. (Here’s some hardcore trivia: There’s an in-joke reference to the original movie in some dialogue between Carl Denham and Preston early in the movie.)

Is there anybody left that doesn’t know how King Kong ends? The third act of the story takes place back in New York City, where Kong and Ann eventually find themselves atop the Empire State building. But before that there is a beautiful scene between them that takes places on a frozen pond in Central Park. I remember tears came to my eyes when I watched this scene for the first time in the theater. Knowing how people in the story react to Kong’s presence, and knowing how the story ends, seemed to lend the scene a certain sadness.

I have always had a hard time describing why I love this movie so much. It’s a strange story, really. Who could identify with a giant ape and the woman he protects? Maybe I want to identify with two characters that find a mutual understanding and trust that almost no one around them can see. Maybe there is a little anger at the way men try to destroy or control what they don’t understand. The way Ann can look into Kong’s eyes and find beauty in his soul seems to resonate within me.

I think Peter Jackson has created a great modern epic, a true journey of adventure and discovery that looks a little deeper than we expect. Strange that such a large movie is really about discoveries of the heart.

Awakenings (1990)

2008-11-03T09:09:00.000-08:00

Penny Marshall’s Awakenings (1990) is a movie that is hard to describe. This is partly because it is based on the real life of Oliver Sacks, the neurologist who wrote a book about his experiences in a chronic hospital in the Bronx. The movie focuses on events that took place in the summer of 1969, when a new doctor (named Dr. Sayer in the film) joins the hospital staff. Dr. Sayer, played by Robin Williams in one of his best performances, is quiet, introverted, and shies away from physical contact. He spent the five previous years working with earthworms, and is sorely lacking in clinical experience.

Dr. Sayer eventually becomes interested in the case of a man named Leonard and about a dozen other patients who all seem to be trapped by the same disease. It turns out that they are all victims of the “sleeping sickness” epidemic of the 1920s, which has left them immobile and unable to speak. In the film’s prologue we see Leonard as a boy when he encounters the first symptoms of his strange condition. He is played as an adult by Robert De Niro in a masterful performance as a man who has been trapped in his own body for thirty years.

The state of these silent patients appears hopeless until Dr. Sayer discovers that many of them will catch a ball that is tossed to them. It leads him to theorize about a body’s simultaneous motor impulses canceling each other out, and spurs him on to find ways to break the deadlock. He is helped in his efforts by the gentle nurse Eleanor (Julie Kavner), who befriends Dr. Sayer and has faith in him even when he is doubted by his skeptical colleagues.

Leonard becomes the focus of Dr. Sayer’s efforts after he receives written consent from Leonard’s mother (Ruth Nelson), who has spent her entire life taking care of her son. Earlier in the film an aged doctor (Max Von Sydow) who has studied the cases of patients like Leonard states that “the virus did not spare their higher faculties,” because “the alternative is unthinkable.” We discover that he is wrong when Leonard uses a Ouija board to communicate with Dr. Sayer, referencing a poem by Rainer Maria Rilke that effectively describes Leonard’s current condition.

After a new wonder-drug called L-Dopa becomes available Dr. Sayer is able to prescribe it to Leonard, who eventually “awakens.” One of my favorite scenes in the movie is when a restored Leonard greets his mother. Randy Newman’s music gives us one of the best so-happy-I-could-cry moments I have ever seen. But observe Dr. Sayer in the background, the sole witness of this joyous reunion. As described by Roger Ebert, the movie has “sequences of enormous joy and heartbreak,” and how Dr. Sayer responds to them reveals the heart of his character, which is always at the center of the film.

It is at this point in the film that my role as an observer ends and my emotions take over. I feel empathy for Leonard, I identify with Dr. Sayer, and I begin to experience the same emotional highs and lows that they do. Penny Marshall’s direction of the film doesn’t call attention to itself, but quietly pulls the viewer in, absorbing us with its story.

After the success with Leonard, the other patients are put on the new drug which “brings them back.” Many of them have been “on hold” for years. It is hard to view this movie without thinking of the implications of what Leonard and the other patients have gone through. Think of all the mundane things we take for granted, all the “human connections” we fail to appreciate, all the experiences we have every day that Leonard and his fellow patients are cruelly denied through no fault of their own. One patient, played by George Martin (the actor, not the music producer), reacts in a way I think most of us probably would. “I feel old, and I feel swindled,” he tells one of the hospital workers. (Close observers will note the touching way his story develops.)

Leonard, on the other hand, is eager to embrace his re-introduction to life. It becomes clear to him that people need to be reminded what life is about, that we take too much for granted, that we have forgotten how good life can be. This happens around the time he meets Paula (Penelope Ann Miller), a young woman who comes to the hospital to visit her father. For the first time in Leonard’s life, love and attraction begin to take effect.

The Oscar-nominated screenplay is by Steven Zaillian, who wrote the screenplay for Schindler’s List, and also wrote and directed Searching for Bobby Fischer and A Civil Action, all of which are based on true stories. They are all stories about human nature that do not fit any standard Hollywood formulas and cannot be easily described.

The film follows the realities of life right up to the end, which is to say there is no tidy little happy ending. It is introspective, inviting us to reflect upon our own lives. We are also left to admire the work of De Niro and Williams, and to remember the characters we have grown to love and care for. Characters that remind us what “life” is all about.

Introduction

2008-10-29T09:00:00.000-07:00

I started to write a few essays on movies two years ago. I had hoped to gather them together as some sort of “movie journal,” and even wrote an introduction as a way to gather and focus my thoughts on the subject. It seems appropriate to share that introduction here.

October 2, 2006

The first movie I ever went to was Star Wars. I was only a month-old baby in my mother’s arms, but I can still say I was physically there, even if I don’t remember. My earliest memories of movie-watching are of the Star Wars films. They had such a profound influence on my life. Not only did they begin my love for movies, but the music of John Williams almost single-handedly gave me the desire to become a composer.

I love movies, pure and simple. I’ve always been fascinated with them, watching one as often as possible. As far as I can tell, film is the only art form that includes all the arts, in some form or another. (Think about it.) For this very reason, movies are my favorite form of storytelling.

The movies that made my list of “favorites” are ones that moved me in some way. I’ve lived with some of these films my whole life, while some are fairly recent additions to the list. The one thing they all have in common is the way they swept me up into the story and made me forget that I was watching a movie. The events in the story were happening to me, my emotions were engaged, and my intelligence wasn’t being insulted.

These are the movies I love to talk about.

The following essays are an attempt to do just that. They are a record of why I love these movies, how they made me feel the first time I watched them, and why I will watch them again. That first impression goes a long way. I liked all these movies the first time I saw them. But many of them have become—for me—much deeper, more moving, more thought-provoking, more powerful than they were upon my first viewing.

I could never hope to convince another person to love movies the way I do. But I can try to explain why they have an effect on me, and what it is that I like so much about them. These essays are not necessarily an argument for these movies as they are my personal observations of them, and an accounting of my reaction to them. Some of the best conversations I’ve had with friends have been when a movie inspired within them the same thoughts and emotions that I had experienced. Watching movies has taught me so much about human nature. But it’s taught me even more about myself, my tastes and desires, my likes and dislikes, and my dreams.

And so it begins...

2008-10-25T17:11:00.000-07:00

This blog is the result of a growing curiosity to see what would happen if I became a little more vocal, so to speak, about “the arts”: music, movies, books, theater, photography, etc. Friends had previously encouraged me to write movie reviews for the local paper, but I just didn’t see it happening. On a blog, though, I could write about not only current movies, but also old favorites. Writing about other arts subjects just seemed like the next logical step.

So we’ll start with movies. I made a list of favorites (which is extremely difficult to do with any subject) and I’ll just work my way down the list, and we’ll see what other subjects come up in between.

But let me be clear: Everything posted on this blog will be subjective, but comments, contributions and differing opinions are welcome. When I say that something is “one of my favorites,” it does not translate to mean “I’m right and you’re wrong.” I will try to present my thoughts in such a way that it means “I enjoyed this, and these are the reasons why.”

At this point it seems to appropriate to include a quote by Francois de La Rochefoucauld (don’t worry, I can’t pronounce it either): “We rarely think people have good sense unless they agree with us.” I am as guilty as anybody. But I truly believe that everyone is entitled to their opinions.

As for the blog title, I got the phrase from “Easier to Be,” one of my favorite songs by Lifehouse. It just felt right.