My Top 5 Movies from 2015 (and Also the Worst One)

Well, the end of the year is finally upon us, and that means it's time for me to recap the best of the year so you'll have something to watch instead of Ryan Seacrest on New Years. I have carefully selected my top five favorite films of the year and ranked them according to highly subjective criteria. And to clear things up right away, Star Wars is not on this list, though it made the number six spot. It was narrowly beaten out by...

5. Spectre.

Call this a case of my inner biased James Bond fanboy wanting his own way. This film has received kind of a lot of hate due to its plotting, but one can't really evaluate a Bond based on its plot, because they all have basically the same level of believability. What it does give us is a stylish, dangerous, and appropriately woman-izing spy fantasy that reintroduces the series' most wonderful baddie. Yes, the way he is revealed bugged me, and yes, Sam Smith's "song" is worse than salt and vinegar chips on a canker. But those deficiencies can't defeat my irrational love of these movies, which is, I suppose, what it means to be a fan. I won't judge you if you won't judge me.

4. Macbeth.

This is not your Kenneth Branagh-issue Shakespeare, but it is also not as revisionist as its ultra-stylized visuals suggest. The play is plunged into a period in Scotland where pagan superstition shares the bench with Christianity and bathing is not a concept. Leads Marion Cotillard and Michael Fassbender are a grim delight, and a supporting cast featuring Professor Lupin rounds out a very introspective take on the Bard's grim play. The photography and immaculate composition often evoke a graphic novel-ish aesthetic which is occasionally a little distracting, but it also provides contrasting stimulus during soliloquies that other cinematic adaptations of Shakespeare lack. Check it out.

3. Inside Out.

As the one film on this list that I know all of you have seen, I don't know that I need to say much by way of praise. But I love it as an example of the kind of wonderful thing that can be accomplished in the world of animation, when those in charge are not busy trying to figure out ways to make half a billion dollars on the backs of one-joke side characters. Ahem... Anyway, this film was a delight, somehow maintaining its light heart through some surprisingly complex emotional material that breaks with the black-and-white happily-ever-after doctrine of any mainstream animated feature ever released. (Okay, except Toy Story 3.) And those scenes during the credits, though.

2. Slow West.

Like I have said before, Slow West is the neo-western fairy tale lovechild of Shakespeare, the Coens, and Frederico Fellini, and I loved every minute of it. It is, well, kind of slow, moving between detached scenes in a pretty observational way, but patches of brutish violence or emotional realization punctuate it throughout. Of those on this list, this is the film you probably have heard the least about, so I highly suggest going and renting it, like tonight. It is the kind of unexpected delight you only get a few of each year, and in another year would have been sitting at the top of this list. But what could possibly have topped such a wonderful little thing?

1. Mad Max: Fury Road, duh.

I want to be careful not to wax too hyperbolic here, but  Mad Max: Fury Road is as close to a perfect a movie as they come. It is, first of all, an absolute riot: an exhilarating, crazy, technically exquisite thrill ride. It also functions as the best, most concise symbol of the terror of the unbridled masculinism in our culture. It is the perfect marriage of pure cinematic showmanship and timely, uncompromising, but undidactic commentary on what we live with today. It is the result of of years of work by masters at the top of their game, visual storytelling the way it ought to be. And if you don't like it, our relationship may never recover. There, I said it.

This brings us to the real reason you're reading, to find out what I really didn't like. So here we go:

Jurassic World

My issues with this movie are many and varied, but let's start off by saying that it just wasn't good, like in any way. There is not much to be entertained by in terms of character, plot, or action. In fact, it leaves mostly a bad taste in the mouth due to its bizarre sexism and constant "hey, remember this?" moments. I say that it is worse than what you think of as other "bad" movies because it is so intent on being as good and important as its older brother, and is so inexplicably popular. Bad movies usually have the decency to at least not make money.

It is what others more clever than I have termed a "legacy-quel:" a narratively unnecessary sequel that relies more upon nostalgia than novelty in order to bring in an audience. Here we see recycled fan-favorite sets, props, and animated characters that make us think of watching Jurassic Park on VHS after school. These winky moments trick us into thinking we like the movie, when really there are no likable characters or memorable sequences, only lots of cartoon dinosaurs and product placement. Other legacy-quels of note this year include Terminator: Genisys and, yes, Star Wars. Almost all of Star Wars. But what about Mad Max, you say. It is not, since it does not pander for attention by throwing in references to Bartertown or Toecutter. It supplies new material with the tools provided by its world. A fine line, but one that Jurassic World crosses repeatedly and unenjoyably.

But with all of the cinematic good out there, we needn't bother with the rubbish. And you needn't even bother with the rantings of this writer, for if you have enjoyed any movie, that ought to be good enough, and I can and should have nothing to say against it. Just please enjoy movies next year responsibly.

Star Wars: Episode VII - The Force Awakens

There's no need to address the hype or response to this film, so let's just jump right in. Be advised that this will be a candid discussion you might not want to participate in if you haven't seen the film.

First, I say that The Force Awakens is a good movie. It is fun and exciting and pretty much what you would hope for. I think it strikes the right kind of tonal note for fans of pretty much any level of intensity, and may even encourage a different stylistic approach to large fantasy tentpoles, which I'd be just fine with.

I say that because the film's greatest strength is its wonderful design. There is just something lovely about real props and creatures and robots and stuff in a movie like this. Even if you know it's just a guy in suit or an overlarge puppet. I don't know that any one thing could have tied this movie to its ancestors better than this kind of stylistic approach. Using sub-par 21st century CG visual effects is one large reason why movies like Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull and Terminator: Genisys are no where near as cool as what came before. That, and, well, crappy storytelling. But whatever.

All of this practical design makes for an unartificially fun viewing experience, which is what a movie like this should be first and foremost. Adding to that fun is the delightful dialog by master Lawrence Kasdan. He gets playful intergender banter like no one else in the business. Where lesser writers opt for casual misogyny or unfounded competition, he goes for good-natured, witty word sparring. He is also the reason geriatric Han Solo works, which was my single greatest fear going in. So wherever this film works, thank the design team and Mr Kasdan.

And of course, Daisy Ridley. I mean seriously.

Now, although I have said it is a good movie, it is not a really good movie. One mustn't confuse exhilaration leaving the theatre for witnessing a marvel. For, as delightful as many of its elements are, the movie suffers from one kind of large problem: it's not really very complete. It functions like a really fun first act. Which, you say, it is, since it's a trilogy. But I think that it still ought to be complete in itself, with more complete character arcs and resolutions. Instead I almost get the feeling of being played, of being put off until the real movie comes out in a few years and then the world explodes out of its wonderfulness. But what else could we expect from the people who bring us a certain other "cinematic universe."

I don't want to sound like a whiner, but I really think we should at least consider the film's structural issues while heaping praise upon it. Because of how it is structured, none of the characters really have any significant development, and therefore problems kind of just solve themselves, leaving the characters essentially where they were. Take Rey. She starts off as determined and competent, and she stays that way. The one difference is that she can Force by the end, something that took Luke two masters and three movies to do but which she teaches herself in an afternoon to get out of a plot corner. The effect this change has on her as a character is not seen. It is perhaps hinted at in her journey to Luke, but something that momentous should be concluded better. Meanwhile, no other character is given any kind of resolution, either, or even time to process or emote about the death of the series' most beloved character. I guess we'll just have to wait until next time.

Of course you'll say that The Empire Strikes Back ends like that, too. Which it does. But it is the middle chapter, not the first. With it, we have already been through like five hours of story together, seen growth, setback, triumph, and failure, and know the characters well. I do not think we know any of our new characters well enough at the end of The Force Awakens or have seen them do enough to leave them as we do. It may end up being a gutsy, satisfying way of structuring the new trilogy. But until it can be enjoyed as a whole several years from now, it is an incomplete and narratively weak chunk of story.

So I say go and see it and enjoy the heck out of it, because it is an undeniably fun ride. Its enjoyability largely outweighs its dubious structure (which will be forgotten once everyone owns all three anyway) but that does keep it from being great.

Star Wars: Episode VII - The Force Awakens features Daisy Ridley, John Boyega, Oscar Isaacs, Domhnall Gleeson, and all your old favorites, and is rated PG-13 for general Star Warsing.

Written by Lawrence Kasdan, JJ Abrams, and Michael Arndt

Directed by JJ Abrams

Spectre

Movies in the James Bond genre are an interesting breed. And don't get me wrong, they are their own genre, one that has managed to exist for over 50 years now. I recently rewatched the entire collection, and something occurred to me: most of them are not all that good. Plot-wise, they are all basically the same. There are notable characters or sets or music, but they are very often essentially the same movie. But, if you are a fan there is no real problem with this. You watch them to experience your inner playboy English gentleman.

Enter Spectre. It is a movie which does little to subvert expectations or plumb new depth in the way that the series has attempted since Daniel Craig's ascension to the role. Some have argued that it is the worst of his entries for that reason, especially since it seems to claim to do otherwise. But I am not so sure. It may well turn out to be that, but I am hopeful that time will prove otherwise.

Let us now speak frankly of the plot, or at least a part of it. I am at once happy to see the return of Blofeld, and a little disappointed. I am disappointed because the filmmakers pulled a Star Trek Into Darkness on us by pretending he wasn't Blofeld until it was time for a dramatic reveal. The trouble with this gimmick is that it only works on fans of the movies, in this case, movies that are now more than 40 years old. The change of character name (as with Into Darkness) means nothing unless you are. So it is an unfortunate, self-aware fanboy concession that adds only sentimental value.

But, I am happy because it now opens up wonderful possibilities for the future. The films have lasted so long in part because of their nondependence on each other for continuity. Each is (for the most part) its own separate episode. Blofeld is far and away the most iconic and sinister Bond villain, as well as the only recurring one. I also like how personally connected to Bond he now is. Now Spectre leaves me thinking that perhaps this pattern will be broken, and that the film will be something like the first of two parts. Which makes me feel mostly okay about the relative incompleteness of plot and emotional resonance with a 160-minute film.

I say mostly because Spectre, considered on its own, is fairly mundane. The action meets the series' high standard, but the emotional side of Bond explored of late is pretty muted. The plotting (as with them all) is a little silly at times, but the concern over surveillance and its misuse by desk jockeys feels at least timely, if a little unoriginal. I also tend to hate the kind of wait-til-next-time-for-the-real-story world building so many franchises are now guilty of, and one thinks that this film is that kind of link in the chain. It is enjoyable, manages something of a light heart, and is certainly better than anything else out this week at the multiplex.

But such it is to be a fan of a film series: quick to forgive so long as there will be more to come. As long as whatever comes doesn't include Sam Smith.

Spectre features Daniel Craig, Christoph Waltz, Léa Seydoux, Naomie Harris, and Ralph Fiennes, and is rated PG-13 for general Bonding throughout.

Written by John Logan, Neal Purvis, Robert Wade, and Jez Butterworth

Directed by Sam Mendes

Octobooooo-er Special: Nosferatu

Max Schreck as the titular bloodsucker

We have now come to that most wonderful of seasons, the October season. And to celebrate, I am going to present a series concentrating on spinetingly-dingly films for your enjoyment. The first of these is one of the great achievements of the silent era, FW Murnau's Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror.

Taken together with 1920's The Cabinet of Dr Caligari, Nosferatu (1922) forms the foundation upon which all horror cinema builds. (And indeed, the two pair excellently as a double feature.) Like Dr Caligari, it comes out of the German expressionist tradition. The film retells in an unauthorized, folklorey kind of way Bram Stoker's tale of Dracula, which I hope I don't have to summarize for you. 

The film's most striking feature is its iconic imagery. You have seen the shadow of Nosferatu's taloned hand reaching for his victim; his pale, pointy face in reverse silhouette against the dark. You know what he looks like as he rises from his coffin and as he moves up the stairs. These and other images from the film have been reproduced, parodied, and referenced to one degree or another in almost any horror film you have ever seen. Much more than its cousin Dr Caligari (which sets the par for striking imagery) Nosferatu has remained an essential element of our cultural subconscious. I think this is  in part due to the fact that, although undeniably expressionist, the film's real locations (instead of cubist, abstract sets) ground it in a kind of reality that the fever dream of Dr Caligari doesn't reach for. It feels just off-center instead of nearly hallucinogenic.

The other element that takes the film a step beyond Dr Caligari and maintains its amazing influence is its pioneering achievement in editing. Some of its best moments are when it intercuts between the vampire's ship and the separated lovers he threatens. These truncated pieces balance wonderfully with the long, methodical takes that dominate whenever Nosferatu is present to create an agonizingly fatal kind of mood. He is as inevitable as the tide, an ever-present theme in this silent symphony.

Lest I inadvertently plant expectations that won't be met, I should note that in establishing the genre, the film differs quite substantially from our modern horror sensibilities. In fact, I would say that it likely won't "scare" you like you're used to. There are no "jump" moments or even attempts at irony or mystery. What you will find instead is a slow, constant, fully-realized single image, which, as a film, you have as little control over as our heroes do their fate. You and they can both only watch, and hope for a good end.

I should also note that many versions of Nosferatu can be found for free on the internets, and that probably none of them are very good. Film scans used are often incomplete or of poor quality, and the music can either have nothing to do with the film or just be really bad. I recommend finding a proper DVD release, which are usually done by some manner of film preservation society. Their scans are as good as can be found, and the music is usually at least not bad. If you prefer, though, watching it with no music at all is especially ambiential and creepy if you are alone in your room at 11 at night and it is raining. Just saying.

So I say you really should see Nosferatu. It is certainly a great way to start off your October season, and is as foundational and influential to the horror genre as anything out there.

Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror features Max Schreck, Gustov von Wangenheim, Alexander Granach, and Greta Schroeder, and is unrated, though appropriate for most audiences.

Written by Henrik Galeen

Directed by FW Murnau

Fan-made trailers, like full copies of this film found online, vary greatly in quality. I suggest watching this with the sound muted, because the music is beyond obnoxious. But it gives a glimpse of the images, as well as the color-tinted filmstock some restorations use.

The Visit

Over the river and a through the weird, to Grandmother's house we go.

Well, I'm back (not that you were upset) just in time for fall. I won't hesitate in saying that the summer cinematic season was a little less than exciting for me, but there are a few I'm looking forward to starting now. The first of these, just in time for fall, is M. Night Shyamalan's The Visit. It is his most stylistically sincere film in many moons, although how you feel about it will depend on how much strange you like in your diet.

The film is about Becca and Tyler, tweenaged siblings who go for a week's family bonding with their estranged grandparents. Weird old people problems become gradually less shrug-offable as the week wears on as Becca sifts through the footage to help bring the family back together.

First, I'll address what you've probably heard, that this film is a refreshing return to form for Shyamalan. This is mostly incorrect. True, the film provides jumps and tension, and it also showcases his humor more than any of his work since probably Signs, and is not bad. However, the director's subtler (and more defining) stylistic hallmarks are not present. There is no carefully-meditated cinematography, no spiritual undertone, no introspective current. The film feels, more than anything else, like a stretching of creative arms after increasing studio oversight and critical derision, coupled with the producing talents of the people who brought you Insidious.

So let's talk about the film we have. I said it was stylistically sincere, and that style takes the form of a documentary shot by our protagonists. It is not "found-footage," but is only just barely more cinematic. The location is beautiful and the establishing shots wonderfully composed, but much of the action is composed of blurry, jittery footage that would likely not have made it into Becca's documentary. Not that it doesn't work. But even under the guise of "documentary style," it is a form that demands constant attention to and justification of itself, which adds an unnecessary layer of distance between the audience and an otherwise tense story. It is, in the end, the film's greatest weakness.

But I'm not sure how I feel about the rest of it. I left feeling mostly unsettled, but not in the way that "disturbing images" alone make you. It was more the complete unconnectedness of the film's elements. The music is a stringy, sentimental, and oddly funny tune from an old musical. Tyler (aged 13) has not one but three freestyle whiteboy raps that were embarrassing to watch with other people. And of course, the photography swings between unsettlingly static and uncomfortably immediate.

One gets the sense that Shyamalan is winking at his audience, delighting in the almost self-consciously bizarre spectacle they have admitted themselves to. And in that sense it is one of his stronger artistic statements for a long time. But upon reflection upon the film's assembly and tone, one also gets the sense of how the strange grandparents in this tale might feel, confused, without good bearing, but intrigued. So it works. My one story qualm is fairly minor, but worth mentioning. I felt a little disappointed when the film's main thematic takeaway was a hamfisted exhortation to not hold onto anger, instead of at least acknowledging the weirdness and disconnect inherent in the millennial habit of pointing a camera at anything in order to come to some sort of catharsis, even if it might kill you. Maybe next time, though.

The Visit features Olivia DeJonge, Ed Oxenbould, Deanna Dunagen, and Peter McRobbie, and is rated PG-13 for many things grandparents don't usually do and some swearsing.

Written and directed by M. Night Shyamalan.

Slow West

There is nothing quite like the kind of unexpected delight that can happen in a movie theatre when a film takes you by surprise. That feeling of pleasured content as the lights brighten and credits roll is, due to aggressive marketing campaigns and timid storytelling, increasingly and unfortunately uncommon. But Slow West did it for me, and I think it will do it for you, too.

The film centers on a young man, Jay, (Kodi Smit-McPhee) who has traveled from Scotland to the American west in search of his love. He meets a bounty hunter named Silas (Michael Fassbender) who agrees to chaperon him, for a price.

The best I can say about it is that it feels like the neo-western fairy tale lovechild of Shakespeare, the Coens, and Frederico Fellini. It is at times inviting, quirky, sterile, metaphysical, detached, surreal, innocent, and charming. All of that isn't to say that it can simply be boiled down into some weird art movie or that it has no focused tone. Writer-director John Maclean balances all of these disparate elements with a high level of compassionate humanity that helps the story resonate, even as it jars you a little with its next sometimes strange turn.

While Fassbender, as usual, gives us another fine performance, the film really belongs to Kodi Smit-McPhee. He becomes our idealistic (if a little foolhardy) eyes in a West that is without hope or balance. He accepts everything, a kind of non-filter through which we process this new world. And it does feel new. As far as I know, it is the first western to be shot in New Zealand, and it just feels subtly, though pervasively, different from westerns shot here. In that sense it has the same foreign quality as the Italian "spaghetti" westerns, only it has traded their forbidding aridity for high-altitude aspen groves and musings about love.

So I say, go see it. It is a film with an accessibly unique voice, and a welcome change of pace if you suffer from blockbuster fatigue. 

Slow West features Kodi Smit-McPhee, Michael Fassbender, Caren Pistorius and Ben Mendelsohn, and is rated R for gun shooting and some swears. 

Written and directed by John Maclean

Ignore the Wild Wild West-like music in the trailer. Don't worry, it's not in the movie.

Tomorrowland

Sometimes it is difficult to know to what standard a movie for younger audiences should be held. And make no mistake: Tomorrowland is really a movie for younger audiences. Which I am grateful for. I'm hoping the film sparks a revival in fun live-action movies you could take your kids to without feeling like you're watching a Disney Channel sitcom. In a lot of ways, that is the film's greatest accomplishment. It could very easily have turned into one of Disney's harder-edged PG-13 blockbusters in the spirit of Pirates of the Caribbean or The Lone Ranger, but it didn't. The only trouble is that, while it stuck to its family film guns, it sometimes felt too boiled-down for its lofty premise to support.

Tomorrowland is about Casey, (Britt Robertson) a smart, idealistic girl doing what she can to combat the world's self-destructive side. After she finds a pin that shows her an amazing alternate reality, she decides that the best way to save her world is to go to the other.

I want to note that the film does have a lot of strong points. Chiefest of these is how good it looks. Cinematographer Claudio Miranda's work always looks brilliant, and here is no exception. The design of Tomorrowland itself is also just really cool. It is a fun world to explore, as it should be. The first time Casey explores it, we are treated to the coolest shot of the film: one long, wandering take as she finds her way around the city. The film really sets and maintains a high visual standard for itself.

The other really strong point is Casey herself. She is the kind of grounded, realistic, and positive female character that is usually lacking in films meant for girls to see. We are (really slowly) getting away from this, and she keeps us heading in the right direction.

Most of what doesn't work in the movie comes down to structure. It feels like 100+ minutes of exposition with a second-act climax substituting for the real one rushed through at the end. Don't get me wrong: the forever leading up to actually getting to Tomorrowland is never boring. In some respects it actually has the film's best material. And I guess, depending on how you look at the story, my outline above doesn't really work because during this time Casey is growing and overcoming challenges. But given its setup it feels kind of lopsided. 

My guess is these issues come mostly from the screenplay, specifically from Damon Lindelof's contributions. He seems to do well with big initial concepts that then lack in execution (see Prometheus, Star Trek Into Darkness, and Lost--although, to be fair, these were all co-written as well.) He also has difficulty providing exposition in any other way than by constant questions by characters, which does get super annoying here. Director and co-writer Brad Bird's other scripting work (Iron Giant, The Incredibles, and Ratatouille) tends to be better structured and have less irritating exposition tricks.

Given its issues, the film does maintain a pretty constant, optimistic tone. Some aren't really pleased with this: it feels a little didactic at times, even obnoxious depending on your politics. On the other hand, it encourages us all to be dreamers and to think that something better can happen tomorrow than happened today. Which, considering the cynical, world-wrecking state of our blockbusters, isn't necessarily a bad message to hear.

Tomorrowland features Britt Robertson, George Clooney, Raffey Cassidy and Hugh Laurie, and is rated PG for actiony stuff and some small swears.

Written by Brad Bird and Damon Lindelof

Directed by Brad Bird

Mad Max: Fury Road

Last week, I had an experience that is unfortunately all too uncommon: on coming out of Mad Max: Fury Road, I was absolutely giddy. Like, my hands were a little shaky and I had trouble focusing on things. Since then I have tried to come up with what I might say to you, how I might recommend this movie. And, wonderfully, I don't have much. Only that Mad Max: Fury Road is possibly the best action movie of the decade so far.

The story is pretty barebones. Max (Tom Hardy) is taken captive by a tribe of zealots led by Immortan Joe (Hugh Keays-Byrne). When Furiosa (Charlize Theron) decides to leave with one of his war rigs, Max, by now a human blood bag, is caught up in the chase.

The film is essentially one wonderful car chase, as one might hope from a movie titled Fury Road. And it is the most fun you'll have in a movie this year. Period. Much of this is, of course, due to the miraculous zaniness director George Miller and his team bring to the screen in their design of the world. And it is miraculous because this film feels like an absolute anomaly in our present cinematic atmosphere. 

Much has been said of the film's feminist leanings, and indeed the film profits greatly by the women it shows us. This is, sadly, quite anomalous in itself. But I won't talk about that here. For it seems to me that it is equally anomalous in its practicality, especially as a large tentpole summer feature. This film throws into stark relief how permissive we have become of computer generated cartoon effects, and how often they fall utterly short.

Yes, this film uses CG effects. But they are usually to help with scale, landscape, or to remove things like safety harnesses or tracks in the sand. The film does not rely on them as a crutch to create drama or energy where none is elsewhere present, as is too often the case. Miller understands that if someone is swinging on a 25-foot pole attached to a car going 80 miles-per-hour, the most exciting way to show that is to actually show it. For a medium as intentionally alienating as film, increasing the alienation with unreal artificial effects rarely does any favors. Indeed, it often does the opposite of what it was meant to do. As audiences, we can very often tell when something is "real" and when it isn't. The Hulk fighting Iron Man loses vital energy, no matter the frenetic action onscreen, simply because it is a cartoon that is not real and there is one more layer of disbelief to suspend. Mad Max feels as real and immediate as its predecessors of 30 years ago, which is one of its greatest achievements in this age of increasingly artificial filmmaking.

So if you haven't, go see it already. Really. You will not find another movie experience like this for a long, long time.

Mad Max: Fury Road features Tom Hardy, Charlize Theron, Hugh Keays-Byrne, and Nick Hoult, and is rated R for surprisingly blood-free fighting with cars. 

Written by George Miller, Brendan McCarthy, and Nick Lathouris

Directed by George Miller

Incidentally, this film has had some of the best trailers of recent memory. Here's the first one that sold me like a year ago.

Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome

With Mad Max: Fury Road finally out today (as soon as I'm done writing this I'm off to go see it) I wanted to complete my retrospective with a look at the until-now final installment in the series: Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome. While still fun, this film lacks the same precise focus as the other two and suffers a little on the side of plotting. But I will say that if you have been afraid to get into these movies, this one is probably the most accessible (or at least, least edgy) while still delivering plenty of George Miller lunacy to keep you around. 

Max turns up in a place called Bartertown in order to reclaim his stolen camel rig. To do so, he strikes a deal with Auntie Entity (Tina Turner) to overthrow the town's energy baron Master Blaster. He also eventually meets up with some Lord of the Flies-style lost children.

I said the film lacked the same kind of focus the other two have, and that comes from the side plot involving the children. The film really doesn't need it. While Max is in Bartertown the movie clips along nicely, giving us a glimpse at the attempt at recivilization. There are the same freakshow side characters as well as the marginally-exploitative duo of Master Blaster. Bruce Spence's pilot even returns, though probably not as the same character (kind of like Lee Van Cleef's character(s) in For a Few Dollars More and The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.) I think if the movie stayed in Bartertown the whole time it would have been stronger.

But it doesn't. Max winds up halfway through the movie in the midst of a society of lost children who think he will lead them back to the world. This side plot isn't a bad story in itself; it is just so unrelated to the main plot that it really detracts from where the movie is going. If I had to include it in the movie, I would have put it first, then gone on the trip to Bartertown. As it stands, when Max and some of the children end up returning to Bartertown, the tone has lightened so much that there is no real threat there anymore. If he meets the children before going to Bartertown, then the stakes are raised for him as a hero and there is at least a sense of menace for us as an audience.

By the end, though, the movie has all of its strings picked up again. There is a brilliant chase through the desert with the same level of ridiculous stuntwork we've come to expect. And it ends harmoniously with the other two films. Mad Max was always the man in the desert looking for purpose, and I guess that is why we like these movies. They capture the absurdity of our lives in an oblique enough way to not be confrontational, but they resonate because we have all been wanderers in the desert looking for purpose at one point or another.

Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome features Mel Gibson, Tina Turner, Bruce Spence, Angelo Rossitto and Helen Buday, and is rated PG-13 for violent stuff.

Written by Terry Hayes and George Miller

Directed by George Miller and George Ogilvie

Maggie

Well, it's only May, and I finally have been to a movie in a theater! Believe me, it was far more enjoyable than squinting at my computer like has been necessary due to some international wanderings. And to get back into the swing of things, I thought I would go out to the Tower in Salt Lake and take a look at Maggie, Arnold Schwarzenegger's new zombie movie.

You read that right. Arnold Schwarzenegger stars in (and produced) an indie zombie movie. And the thing is, while it is not perfect, it has a strong spirit and might even make you cry a little.

The story is that Maggie (Abigail Breslin) is infected with the virus that slowly turns people into zombies, and her father (Arnold) decides to keep her at home instead of taking her to the mandatory quarantine area. And that's it. He doesn't storm any hospitals demanding medicine or have a semiautomatic last stand or go postal on a zombie hoard or anything. He isn't even ex-military. What the film is is a slow burning meditation on death and loss and love.

Haters say that the film suffers because "nothing happens." And if you are looking for plot twists or action this is not the place to find it. The film instead chooses to simply ask a question and let the audience simmer on their answer 90 minutes. It is not so much a narrative plot-driven film as it is a narrative emotional portrait. And mostly, it works.

Much of why it works is the visual control the film demonstrates. Whether you dig digital or not, it sure makes it easy to make pretty pictures to look at, even if they are as starkly color-free as those here. At times they create a more impressionistic feel, one that is distinctly not as scared of zombies as it is of Maggie's impending, unavoidable fate. It's all pretty absorbing.

And I think the visual elements end up doing what Arnold can't quite, which is give voice to a full emotional situation. Much of this is intentional: the script seems purposefully pared down (sometimes to the point of creating less-than-good dialog) and he just isn't given things to do. Again, some say this just makes it boring and that as a consequence we miss out seeing him do some actual acting. I'm not sure I feel that way. His presence is constant, if a little uncomfortably subdued, and his haggard face and greying beard shot in close up as they often are often give off the kind of stoic sadness that is at the heart of the film.

Even though there are more than a few external flaws, at its heart Maggie is a really keen examination of death, or more accurately dying, and coping with terrible things beyond one's control. You can also read some commentary on AIDS or at the very least stigmatization of people being treated for longterm illness if you like. The zombie movie has turned a corner here and is more plot device than plot itself.

So I say go to the Tower and see it. (It is technically also on Amazon, but why would you do that to yourself?) At the very least you'll get a zombie movie with a flushed out emotional examination, which isn't something you can get everyday these days.

Maggie features Arnold Scharzenegger, Abigail Breslin and Joely Richardson and is rated PG-13 for having themes and some gross looking stuff. 

Written by John Scott 3

Directed by Henry Hobson

Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior

Happy Saturday, everybody! With less than a week to go until Fury Road hits, I am continuing on with my Mad Max retrospective with a look at 1981's sequel, Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior. Buckle up, because the crazy really gets turned on high in this one.

After the events of Mad Max, Max is aimlessly roaming the desert, looking for fuel for his car. He meets up with a gyro pilot (Bruce Spence) who tells him of a fortified refinery still producing gasoline, but that is under siege by a band of crazies led by Lord Humungus. If you aren't sold now, I guess you never will be.

There could hardly be a greater difference between the first and second installments of a film series. Where Mad Max had a fair level of emotional grounding driving it on, Road Warrior feels like some kind of waking hallucination. The gyro pilot was weaponized snakes as booby traps and dresses in bright yellow long johns. One of the residents of the refinery is a feral kid who wields a metal boomerang. And Lord Humungus wears a hockey mask and a leather diaper with suspenders.

Director George Miller doubles down on the spectacular stunts and crashes introduced in the first film while scaling back to almost zero any humanity that might have remained. The road sequences are really pretty awesome, all the more so because of the obvious lack of artificial effects and the terrible lack of covering clothes many of the crazies have as they jump from car to car.

All of which is, of course, what makes the film such a bizarre delight. Although we are given something of  a backstory in the form of stock footage montage, there is still no real explanation for the behavior of all these riveted-leather crazies. They just are. And in a way, that's all that can really be said about this movie without straining yourself. It just exists. We could say that the film functions as a metaphor and catharsis for the grief Max feels from earlier, or that we are all just as crazy in our own way as either the dedicated refiners looking for a better life or the maniacs trying to get their gas, but statements like that just fall apart. 

And so, you will either love it or not care at all. The only people reading this are the ones who care, and as such this is probably a futile exercise, but I am going to write anyway since it is rainy outside and yardwork is impossible. But if it is new to you, I really think you should give it a try. There are lots worse things you could watch this week.

Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior features Mel Gibson, Bruce Spence, Michael Preston and Kjell Nilsson, and is rated R for the same thing as the first one, only more so.

Written by Terry Hayes, Brian Hannant and George Miller

Directed by George Miller

Here's the trailer, this time without awful American dubbing.

Mad Max

As you may or may not be aware, George Miller's insanityfest Mad Max: Fury Road is due out here in a couple of weeks. To help you get adequately excited for it (like you need help if you've seen a trailer) I've decided to take a look back at the series leading up to the new film's release.

The little movie that started it all is 1979's Mad Max, staring a very young Mel Gibson. He plays the titular Max, a police officer in a not very distant future where nearly all order has collapsed and crazy road gangs roam the Australian desert. He is moved to vengeance when a gang led by Toecutter (seriously) brutally attacks his partner.

Let me be clear from the get go: Mad Max is not a great movie in terms of story, acting, or emotional resonance. It is, however, as gleeful a post-apocalyptic car chase revenge movie as you could ask for (barring, of course, the next two installments) with some really daring camerawork and awesome crashes. It looks like it was shot for as much money as it took to buy and modify the cars and bikes used. It is low and in-your-face and as utterly unapologetic in its lack of exposition and explanation as it is in its absolute revelry in insanity. It has some really awesome chase sequences throughout, and truly impressive stuntwork considering they are not only jumping onto, say, moving trucks, but doing so like sunbaked lunatics. 

This, of course, is what draws you to watch it: there is nothing quite like Mad Max. He is a genre unto himself. Where else can you find such madness for its own sake? In this world there is no answer, no getting better. Everybody in it is as adjusted to it as people working in a boring office for 20 years are to their environment. Violent crashes often elicit no more grief than would, say, running out of toner. Miller creates one of the few post-apocalyptic environments that doesn't feel temporary or foreign; it just looks like rural Australia aged a few years and everyone in charge went on permanent holiday.

For all the crazy going on, Max's relationship with his wife (Joanne Samuel) and son feels super real. Indeed, it functions as the one tether binding him and us to rationality. Even though there are a few kind of tacky "aw" moments between them, Gibson and Samuel make it feel genuine. It provides something a jolt of reality and is the one shred of the spirit of human endurance that Miller allows into his film.

Although in many ways Miller is just getting his wheels going, Mad Max is still a solid distillation of what will become one of the craziest film series ever. It was a huge anomaly for 1979, and while others tried to do it again, it would only really be done by Miller when he pulled out the next chapter in 1981's Road Warrior.

Mad Max features Mel Gibson, Joanne Samuel, Hugh Keays-Byrne and Tim Burns, and is rated R for crazy people killing people with motorcycles, etc, and some swears.

Written by James McCausland and George Miller

Directed by George Miller

Here's a trailer for the American release with kinda bad American-accent dubbing. I would find an Australian version if I were you.

4 Reasons Why 'The Village' Is My Favorite Shyamalan Movie

This week my home viewing has been concentrated on the work of M. Night Shyamalan, whose first four major movies (The Sixth Sense, Unbreakable, Signs, and The Village) were some of the first reasons why I began really loving movies in the first place. To be honest, I find it difficult to defend his latter work, and for many people this begins with The Village–for them a convoluted period monster flic that slowly bleeds out what little believability it begins with until it limps, dying and confused, into its closing credits. But I am here today to proclaim that not only is it my favorite of Shyamalan's films, but it might be his best work altogether. 

Reason #1: Dat Music, Tho

The films mentioned above all have superior music gifted to us by James Newton Howard. But the jewel in the collection is the beautifully melancholic suite he composed for violinist Hilary Hahn on The Village. Each note is full of sorrow and hope and loss, and the score is one of the greatest meditations on those themes in music. As a soundtrack it is risky, because it runs the possibility of overrunning the screen image it is meant to support, but it never overplays its hand or becomes pedantic. Indeed the music is the perfect accompaniment to the photography, and the mood which it carefully creates and maintains. Speaking of which... 

Reason #2: Roger

I know, praising the work of master cinematographer Roger Deakins is like saying bacon is tasty, but that doesn't mean it can't be done genuinely. Of Shyamalan's films this is by far the best looking (although Eduardo Serra does some cool stuff in Unbreakable.) I mean, tell me that just the still frame of that chair on the porch doesn't make you want to cry. Tell me (if you've seen the movie, of course) that it doesn't infinitesimally increase your understanding of and sympathy for the characters. Tell me his use of color (while often brought to our attention by the dialog) never feels immaturely attention seeking in itself. Indeed, it is the images Deakins captures, together with Howard's music, that floats the picture when the rest of it is shaky. This brings me to...

Reason #3: The Reason Most People Don't Like It

*This section gets spoilery.* While it is a solid aesthetic achievement, what really gets me (in a good way) about this film is how poorly its internal logic works out. And this is why most people don't like it. "Gee," they say, "it sure seems flimsy that they could live indefinitely in a wildlife refuge and no one would know." "Wouldn't Ivy immediately figure out that it was Noah and not a creature that she killed?" "Why do the elders speak in the weird 1890's speak even when they are alone?" "Couldn't they have brought modern medical supplies with them? No one born there would know the difference. Actually, why did they pretend to be homesteaders in the first place?" And so on.

The point is, I think that this flimsy logic is the point. Misreading it (and therefore being disappointed with the movie) comes out of misunderstanding what the movie is about. It is a love story above everything else. It is also an exploration of fear and guilt, and how those intersect with love. And to me, the fact that a story that they invented to preserve love from the corrosion of fear and guilt makes no sense at all, but that they desperately cling to it anyway, only adds to the poignancy of the whole thing. It is a kind of tragedy of whose sibling I cannot come up with another example. Brendan Gleeson's character says of Ivy, after she has gone, to let her run toward hope. The beauty of the place is that she is free to do it, and if it is worthy, she will be successful. The tragedy is that the place is not worthy, but she will come back anyway and think that it is.

So I take for subtlety what others take for poor plotting. The film manages to tell a very sobering and melancholy tale without ever being despairing. It preaches earnestly and sincerely about love, its powers and wonders. And it turns around and mourns over the false hopes that love can inspire. I cannot think of another movie that makes me feel the way that it does. In doing so it reaches a tonal ambiguity that isn't found in the rest of Shyamalan's work. In that regard it is his most artistically satisfying piece for me, and the one that I can come back to most often. Finally...

Reason #4: Just Because

I know that the film is not without its faults. The dialect is sometimes clunky and distracting and the editing near the end cannot decide whether it is brilliant or just confusing. And I have tried to elucidate real reasons why I love this movie. But I think it comes down to the fact that I love it, just because I love it. Maybe it's because it came at just the right moment in my life: earlier and I would have ignored it, later and I would have scorned it. Maybe it's because it was the first movie that I ever sat through the credits of, thinking that I didn't know what I was feeling. Maybe it's because everyone has to have a terrible movie that they love, and this is mine. I don't know. But I hope you have at least one that you love and you cannot explain why, even when IMDb tells you that it is worse than that last Pirates of the Caribbean movie. Seriously. Look it up.

And here's a selection from the score, in case you didn't believe me earlier.

How the West Was Won, Once Upon a Time

Well, loyal readers, I'm back after something of a hiatus. However, I'm back in something of a different context, being in what might be something of a cinematic sequester for a few months, for timely theatrical viewing, at any rate. But for these next couple of months I am going to indulge in some more studied and intentional home viewing, and all seven of you get to be on the receiving end of that.

First up will be a discussion of the two great mythology-beatifying westerns: How the West Was Won, and Once Upon a Time in the West. Both films are stunningly beautiful examples of the totally disparate schools that produced them and obvious high-water marks in the genre. In comparing the two, I want to look at individual merit as well as overall impact on the genre, especially since we live in a largely post-"western" world. First up will be the first of the films to be released, 1963's How the West Was Won.

The film is almost equal parts hubristic passion project and insane National Parks PR campaign, and indeed, the film is almost as large as its subject matter: the West. ALL OF IT. From early expansion in Ohio through the gold rush, Civil War, Indian conflicts and railroad encroachment up to glorious Boomer-era capitalist triumph. It boasts an impressive cast featuring anyone who had ever been in a western, and was co-directed by 3 giants of the genre. It was shot and originally presented using the new panoramic "Cinerama" technology, which used three cameras and three projectors launching three synchronized images onto a huge concave screen for a more enveloping experience. It was a mammoth picture.

And, looking back at it with a few days' insulation, it is the picture's mammoth-ness that most sticks with this writer more than anything else. The photography is a little overwhelming. Of course it is beautiful (as evidenced above) but it is not a film that can really be transferred for home viewing. Because of the original panoramic nature of the projection, when this is seen on a flat screen it is a little dizzying. Sometimes there are two points of focus on the horizon, and almost always more than the human eye normally takes in. After a while one wishes (for the only time ever) for some kind of reduction in presentation ratio.

As a landmark in the western canon, the film functions as more of a toast and tribute than anything else. It celebrates the triumph of good old wholesome American-ness, in an era when such was being questioned and criticized more than ever. And, really, what else could it have been? The western up to that point was never anything less than that, from Stagecoach to High Noon to The Searchers. The film is the culminating statement in the decades-long treatise chronicling the subjugation of all nature and people by the righteous white man. And few films make that statement less ambiguously than How the West Was Won.

Contrast that with Sergio Leone's 1968 masterpiece, Once Upon a Time in the West. (Yes, it's even better, maybe, than The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. Maybe.) It is an operatic fairy tale, incorporating Wagnerian leitmotifs perfectly with Leone's quintessential grit. It is a film of stark beauty and deep melancholy: a eulogy where How the West Was Won was a celebration.

The image that ties the two films together is the subduing of landscape by the railroad. This was the only "spaghetti" western to shoot outside of Europe, and there is some spectacular photography of Monument Valley. Here, the railroad brings corruption, greed, and an end to what innocence the West had notwithstanding its inherent violence. It brings new life as well, embodied by the film's heroine Jill, but she is hardly the kind of Eve found in How the West Was Won. In that film, the railroad was only ever a good thing, bringing together all good and hardy people for the last great colonization of the last frontier. That film ends with a showcase of the railroad's modern technological descendants; Once Upon a Time closes with the departure of the last man of his kind as the train pulls into the station, no longer welcome in his only environment.

But the film, notwithstanding its melancholy and occasional mourning, is not cynical. It canonizes rugged individualism of a different kind than its more patriotic cousin. That film is clean and bloodless in its conflict; this uses grit and dust and blood as its medium to paint a final portrait of the kind of American that no longer is.

So I say that Once Upon a Time in the West is probably the better film, although they are both worthy of viewing. But its artistry is more lasting and resonant, and its impact more appropriate given the landscape of our American west today.

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Here's the main theme from Ennio Morricone's overwhelming score for Once Upon a Time in the West. I put it easily in the top 10 film scores of all time. In case you don't believe how seriously beautiful of a movie this is.