It could be argued that The Karate Kid (1984) is a classic. Even if you 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 and the movie became a smash hit. 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 after they meet Master Li (Rongguang Yu), a master bully who is Cheng's teacher. 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, which Jaden Smith and Jackie Chan make believable. 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.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Random Ramblings: Alone in the Dark
(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 probably 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 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.
A friend of mine recently made the comment that he would have probably 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 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.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit
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, ahem, 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.
While the town locals add color to the story, especially Lady Tottington and Victor, 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.
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, ahem, 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.
While the town locals add color to the story, especially Lady Tottington and Victor, 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.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Bridge to Terabithia
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 deeply I was drawn in 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.
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 deeply I was drawn in 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.
Friday, January 16, 2009
King Kong
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's 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 doesn't 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, as they discuss “Fay” appearing in an RKO picture for “Cooper.”)
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.
First of all, it's 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 doesn't 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, as they discuss “Fay” appearing in an RKO picture for “Cooper.”)
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.
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