Go Go Godzilla!

The summer season is full upon us, and that means movies where stuff gets destroyed and superheroes and so on. While this writer isn't planning on ceasing his embargo of superhero movies (I am currently writing a discourse thereon that will be available soon) I do enjoy a good monster romp now and then (check out Pacific Rim from last summer.) Of course this week we all saw the other Pacific menace, Godzilla, as brought to us by Gareth Edwards. While I did have some qualms with some elements that we'll get into later, I found the movie to be largely a breath of fresh air in a genre dominated by adolescent mediocrity.

Godzilla is the story of (spoiler alert) a giant monster that causes havoc for humans. The humans involved, played by Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Elizabeth Olsen, and others, are caught in the crossfire as the military tries to subdue the prehistoric beast.

The film's greatest strength, by far, is the artistic quality Edwards and his team bring to the story. The film is often artwork first, then action movie, a work of a cool kind of terrifying beauty. One of the advantages of a largely CG environment is perfect control over shot composition, and the shots in the movie, be they full-on destruction or a only fleeting glimpse of Zilla's razor back, are handsomely done. In a film where we know exactly what will happen from the outset, the shots are also how Edwards creates suspense throughout. He teases (some say too much) the monster, only giving a peak here and there for most of the movie, and much of the destruction is seen after the fact. I say this works for a property so ubiquitous, as it gives you something to keep watching for. Along with the visual elements, the score and sound design are hugely effective as well. These combined elements do much to distinguish this movie from others of its kind by the likes of Roland Emmerich and Michael Bay.

However, much of what didn't work in the movie forces to be associated with its lesser-quality action movie brothers anyway. Thid comes down to characterization specifically, and writing generally. None of the characters are any kind of flushed out, which is frustrating given the film's Oscar- and Emmy-winning cast. More offensive, though, is how the film's female characters are used. They are all essentially there to be a motivation for the men (who have important things to do!), usually because of some combination of grief and guilt. Obviously not shocking considering its genre, but it felt different here again because of the talent of the cast and the outrageous extreme to which the ruse is taken. Even Olsen, the closest thing to a female protagonist in the film, only has a 15 minutes of screen time, and much of that is filled with screaming and not knowing what to do. But the sin, I am careful to note, lies in the material and not the performances. What little the actors are given they generally make good use of, but it is often very little they are given indeed.

An interesting historical read of the film I was thinking about involves our post-imperial unease with the atomic bombs used on Japan in WWII. The original 1954 film is largely a Japanese reaction to the terror caused by the weapons, of the indiscriminate annihilation of entire cities; but our American versions have never really addressed that. This one does, if marginally, by claiming that Godzilla was awakened by American nuclear tests. The subsequent fallout is ascribed by some as nature correcting itself, and the conflict (ironic, slightly) of whether to use nuclear weapons to destroy the creature is a prominent one.

Overall, I say that the movie is generally impressive, especially visually and and technically. Ultimately, the film forces us to realize that we have no control over nature, that while she might let us live as we will, she is still in charge and is something of which to be in awe. Edwards' vision supports this, even if whenever a human is involved the vision gets a little hazy.

Godzilla features Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Elizabeth Olsen, Ken Watanabe, Bryan Cranston, Sally Hawkins, Juilette Binoche, and David Strathairn, and is rated PG-13 for the wanton destruction of landmark American architecture.  

Writer: Max Borenstein

Director: Gareth Edwards

Behold, the trailer featuring Bryan Cranston, easily the most interesting character in the movie:

Also, a trailer for the 1954 original by Ishirô Honda, apparently more terrifying than the collected works of Jules Verne:

The Grand Budapest Hotel

I don't suppose there is much use in telling you otherwise, but there are other movies out this weekend than Spider-man's Adventures with Angry Electricity Man (in which, as per policy, I shan't be indulging). Well, truthfully, there isn't much. Transcendence is all right, but its occasional beauty doesn't make up for its general lack of salt. No, one must delve a little deeper if he is to find solace and escape at the hands of the cinematic minister. Such solace is found, and relished, in Wes Anderson's The Grand Budapest Hotel.

This little film has actually been out for a month or so, but the powers that be have declined its making even a weekend stop in Cedar City, so I had to go to it in Salt Lake. Perhaps you have already seen it. If not, it tells the story of Gustave (Ralph Fiennes), a legendary concierge in an eastern European hotel, and his adventures with his valet Zero (Tony Revolori). It is a film of easy and winning charm, delightful like a colorfully wrapped box of chocolates.

The film begins properly in the mid-sixties. The hotel, though still grand, is aging and has had some unfortunate orange and green plastic makeovers. Soon, though, we are whisked back to the thirties and it is restored to its full, lustrous charm. I say this to illustrate one of the film's defining characteristics: it is permeated by a joyful yet wistful nostalgia. You say: but all Wes Anderson films are like that, that's kind of his thing. True, but this one is different. Gustave embodies truly an age gone by, something that has been gone too long for even the parents of those writing about it to remember. But it is still there, just beneath the surface.

But I am waxing metaphysical. The film itself is a joy to see unfold. There are intricate models and sets and costumes, and each inch of screen is filled perfectly. The story is an amalgamation of romance and intrigue and adventure wrapped in a script as endlessly entertaining as its cornucopia of characters. It is one of those movies that feels much shorter than it is, that casts a pleasurable spell of forgetfulness and livens a rainy Saturday afternoon. I suppose it has that most in common with its adventure movie brethren of the Golden Age: the possibility of temporary escape into another, better-decorated world. Only now, it is we who are envious of they.

The Grand Budapest Hotel features Ralph Fiennes, Tony Revolori, Adrien Brody, Jeff Goldblum, Saoirse Ronan, Jude Law, F. Murray Abraham, Willem Defoe, Edward Norton, Bill Murray, Tilda Swinton and several dozen other delightful actors, and is rated R for some pretty hilarious swears and some naughtiness.

Writers: Wes Anderson & Hugo Guinness

Director: Wes Anderson

Noah

NOTE: MILD SPOILERAGE IN PARAGRAPH 5, IF YOU WORRY ABOUT THAT.

Noah came out yesterday, and it is a notable break in the typical cinematic dry spell of spring. It is also one of the more controversial movies to come out for a while, with many people claiming that it is disrespectful, if not sacrilegious. I will say that while it certainly isn't the Noah movie you would have made yourself, it is not the flat Roland Emmerich-style disaster flic or ground-up or cynical deconstruction you thought it might be, either.

The story is what is in the Bible: Noah (Russell Crowe) is told by the Creator (as God is called in the movie) to build an ark for his family and all the animals in advent of the destruction of the world. Non-believers led by Tubal-cain (Ray Winstone) find out and aren't happy, and there is the ensuing drowning-related drama one would expect.

A chief point of controversy is that the film was co-written, co-produced, and directed by Darren Aronofsky, an atheist who makes (putting it mildly) pretty weird stuff. His approach here seems to be the same approach any of us might take when looking at Hercules or Gilgamesh: that of somebody else's foundational myth. He delves into extra-canonical legends and fabricates stuff to fill out the brief Biblical account. And, generally, his telling works, so long as you aren't expecting authoritative doctrinal exposition. I think the same rule applies here as it does to any adaptation: IT WILL BE DIFFERENT. 

That said, it is no soulless action movie. There are certainly sequences of rain-soaked, Peter Jackson-esque heroics, but much more of the film is a study of faith versus reality. It somehow takes the complicated role of both criticizing faith and being in awe of it. The scenes detailing miracles or the creation are actually pretty awe-inspiring, and can probably fit within your own theological framework. On the other hand, it doesn't ignore the fact that Noah, because of his faith, will effectively kill lots of people by not letting them on the ark with him. It also takes into account the times when God seems silent and one is left alone to choose.

Actually, I think Mr Aronofsky is here criticizing religious fanaticism rather than faith generally. Every time faith is shown by a character it is an inspiring moment, even in its mythological terms. The rub comes when the line between obedience and zealotry becomes vague. The non-believers have their own bloodthirsty, cultish beliefs which, as juxtaposed with Noah's decisions, make his righteousness seem almost as barbaric. It is here that a subplot is introduced involving Noah's belief that there is to be no more mankind after his family's eventual death, that the Creator is purging all humanity and only needed Noah to save the animals. This leads him to want to kill his gestating grandchild, which is understandably disliked by his family. I suspect that this, more than anything else, is where most of the controversy actually stems. And, I'm not sure it really even fits in the story Mr Aronofsky is telling. It seems pretty forced, something to give us drama after the waters recede and all the baddies have drowned, and it kind of derails the last third of the movie. Make of it what you will.

Technically speaking, the film is pretty good. The color palette feels somehow pre-historic: it gives the impression that it takes place on an Earth we don't have access to anymore, something still freshly post-Eden. The script is often the weak element in any given scene: the ideas it contains and meditates on are cool, but the dialogue is rarely more than functional. One final note: there is a continuous shot of the creation of the world as told by Noah, following the formation of the universe through the the appearance of man that, is super awesome. If you don't want to see the movie, wait for this clip to be online and find it just for its own sake.

Overall, I think much of the brew-ha-ha isn't entirely warranted. For all its departures, the film does tell the complete story of Noah. On the other hand, it is in the departures that contemporary concerns like environmentalism and religion are considered. So I say, check it out if you can separate it from Sunday school, but if you like your Noah the way you know him, it won't be a major loss.

Noah features Russell Crowe, Jennifer Connelly, Emma Watson, Ray Winstone, and Anthony Hopkins, and is rated PG-13 for violent stuff.

Writers: Darren Aronofsky & Ari Handel
Director: Darren Aronofsky

Special #10: Gone With the Wind

It's been a while since I've run an Oscar feature (I know you've missed them), and since the ceremony is this week I thought we'd have a go with 1939's seminal Gone With the Wind. This might actually be interesting for some of you because many of you have seen this, or have at least heard of it. As for me, it is certainly a spectacle, but I'm not totally sure how I feel about it.

The movie is the adaptation of Margaret Mitchell's novel about the fall of the south in the Civil War. It is a passionate romance of characters and place, and the adaptation has become one of the icons of American cinema.

And, truly, every inch of it is iconic. The photography is lush and evocative of the much-romanced south we all think of. Its scope is monumental (the movie comes in at just under 4 hours), a dramatic megalith on the scale of Wagner. It is worth the watch if only to witness the perfection of craft in such a young industry. But then, there is also the rest of it about which I am conflicted.

Most of that "rest of it" is the protagonist, Scarlett O'Hara, embodied by Vivien Leigh. The first time I watched the movie several years ago, I HATED it because of one or the both of them. Leigh has always bothered me as an actress (see: A Streetcar Named Desire), but her character in the movie is just as irritating. Of course, that is her arc, falling from spoiled plantation queen to fending for her very existence as the Northern imperialists rape the land she grew up on. Upon second viewing I have become more sympathetic, but only some. The movie is made watchable because of Clark Gable's potrayal of Rhett Butler, Scarlett's lover. By the end I felt to cheer as he finally tells her what I have been wishing to tell her the entire movie.

Is such an irritating character and her portrayal worth so much of your life in exchange for unfiltered cinematic beauty? This is one of the deeper questions pursuers of art must face. Why do you like watching movies? Is it for their aesthetic quality, for stories that resonate with you or challenge you, or some combination of these or other factors? Does a broken and frustrating character make a "bad" movie? I don't know, but this is why we watch anyway.

There are lots of ill feelings on my part, but overall I still think this is one of the more important films of our history. Together with The Wizard of Oz, also from the same year, color film signaled an important, if slow, industry shift. It is one of the rare films that becomes immortal on its own. Many require several adaptations or sequels, but Gone With the Wind sits in a very privileged class. It is appropriately ubiquitous, even if it remains divisive. I recommend it both as an historical artifact and as a worthy film.

Gone With the Wind features Vivien Leigh, Clark Gable, Olivia de Havilland, Leslie Howard, and Hattie McDaniel, and is not rated.

Writer: Sydney Howard

Director: Victor Fleming

Also, if you don't feel like four hours, here's the condensed version from Carol Burnett:

The Lego Movie

Well do I remember my days as a carefree lad, playing with my beloved Lego sets. My brother and I would devote hours on end to carefully creating worlds for our tiny Lego figurines to inhabit. We would follow meticulous instructions in order to build the models just right, and a lost piece was something truly lamentable.

Some friends also enjoyed Legos, but they combined all of their sets into one massive pile and drew thence to construct their own crude creations. This was something I never understood, because THAT IS HOW YOU LOSE PIECES. This denominational difference often caused strife when these friends would come over to play.

By now hopefully you've seen The Lego Movie but if you haven't, this conflict provides the central conceit of the movie: what happens when a maniacal overlord is seeking to destroy your world by ensuring that every block remains precisely in place? The Lego Movie is just as much fun as it should be, subversively reveling in everything that made playing with Legos great in the first place.

To be clear, it is not the giant multi-franchise commercial it easily could have been. Here, Lego is the medium, not the product. The animation resembles the stop-motion movies grown up nerds like me might make, but the scale is impossible and enviable for the amateur. Here, Batman, Gandalf, and NBA All-Stars mingle freely (and hilariously). It is an immensely enjoyable adventure.

I said that Lego was the medium, and I would like to explain that. So often, nostalgic properties are turned into movies for only vaguely artistic reasons. Think of disasters like Battleship or successful travesties like Transformers. The only reason for their existence is to mine happy memories for money. Even the upcoming Mr Peabody & Sherman looks more like a cheap base hit than anything else. The Lego Movie felt different because it is at once respectful and cheekily self-aware. On the one hand, it manages to remain true to everybody's own Lego memories and adventures, and on the other it knows that it is a commercial endeavor, and takes delight in not taking that fact very seriously.

The movie is truly funny, and makes brilliant use of established and contemporary pop culture references. My one quibble with that is that it won't become a "classic": much of its humor is too closely grounded in the present for kids a few years from now to really get. Not that it's important, because the best kid's movies are adult-savvy as well.

So I say that The Lego Movie is enormously fun and more than worth braving the crowds of 10-year-olds to see. I would even claim that your love would probably rather watch it than Endless Love or Winter's Tale this weekend, but maybe that's just me.

The Lego Movie features Chris Pratt, Elizabeth Banks, Will Arnett, Morgan Freeman, Will Ferrell, and all kinds of other hilarious people, and is rated PG mostly for an instance of non-graphic Lego nudity.

Writers: Dan Hageman, Kevin Hageman, Phil Lord, Christopher Miller

Directors: Phil Lord & Christopher Miller