It could be argued that The Karate Kid (1984) is a classic. Even if they haven’t seen it, everybody 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. Li 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 story. 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 to observe that 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 brings action and humor together in a way adds 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 someone like Mr. Han who could step in to help and teach.
In their “lessons” together, Dre hardly feels like he could be learning kung fu. I especially like 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 to 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 able to follow the characters as they progress through the competition. Even when you know how events will unfold, the sequence 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 couldn’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 classic story.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Up
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 revisit 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. In the Pixar canon, it instantly became my favorite, even though all of the Pixar movies are wonderful. 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 true 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 discover 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 Docter 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, superheroes, 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 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 Docter, 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.” I couldn't have said it better.
Up (2009) is that kind of movie. In the Pixar canon, it instantly became my favorite, even though all of the Pixar movies are wonderful. 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 true 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 discover 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 Docter 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, superheroes, 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 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 Docter, 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.” I couldn't have said it better.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Random Ramblings: Thinking vs Entertainment
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 little or no emotional truth.
That is not an exhaustive definition, but maybe you understand what I mean. And 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.
It all depends, though, 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. 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 the evidence that may 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 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. 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.
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 little or no emotional truth.
That is not an exhaustive definition, but maybe you understand what I mean. And 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.
It all depends, though, 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. 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 the evidence that may 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 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. 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.
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