Thursday, May 9, 2013

Star Trek Into Darkness: Review



“Star Trek” has always been a franchise caught between its two selves: its pulpy, space adventure self and its more philosophical, idealistic self.  J.J. Abrams’ previous Star Trek film leaned a little too heavily toward the former for my taste while mostly ignoring the latter.  Even though he had delivered a fun space opera, I was worried that Abrams and his writers just didn’t get “Star Trek”: it’s not just about spaceships and technology; it’s about family, morality, scientific ideas, and an optimistic vision of humanity’s future.

But with Star Trek Into Darkness, Abrams and his team have achieved a near perfect blend of the two sides of “Star Trek,” delivering an absolutely exhilarating entertainment that raises the bar for every upcoming summer spectacle and pulses with the ideas and values that define the very best of this franchise.

At the center of Into Darkness is a fascinating debate about the moral core of society.  After an action-packed (and slightly confusing) opening, the picture finds Starfleet under attack from a terrorist (Benedict Cumberbatch of BBC’s Sherlock) who has fled to a Klingon planet (yes, that means we get to see Klingons this time).  Trying to recapture the fugitive means risking war with the Klingons, so the head of Starfleet (Peter Weller) orders Captain Kirk to kill Cumberbatch from outside Klingon space using specially designed long-range torpedoes.

The parallel with America, Pakistan, Osama bin Laden, and drone warfare is not particularly subtle (the “Star Trek” franchise has never been very subtle about its allegories), but it works because it forces the characters to confront their ideas about Starfleet.  Spock questions the moral basis of their orders, reminding Kirk that the fugitive is being condemned without a trial.  Scotty objects to the mysterious technology of the special torpedoes on the ship and asks Kirk if Starfleet has just become an intergalactic military.  The movie asks all the “Star Trek” fans in the audience to question this, too.  Is this really what Starfleet is all about?  Is revenge really worthy of a civilized society?

While Into Darkness brings in the philosophical components that were missing from the previous Star Trek, it maintains that film’s propulsive storytelling energy.  It also finds a fascinating villain in Cumberbatch, one who poses a strong physical, intellectual and moral challenge to the crew of the Enterprise.  The intellectual challenge proves especially compelling, particularly in a standoff between two starships that becomes a battle of wits and wills rather than just a fight with laser beams.

Director Abrams has dialed back some of the visual excesses that plagued the previous film (yes, there are fewer lens flares), though he still has a strange penchant for canted angles and camera moves that constantly tilt and whirl at breakneck speeds.  What keeps the visual style from being too distracting (as I thought it was in the previous Star Trek) is the fact that Abrams does have a fantastic sense of pace and narrative momentum.  I sometimes found the visual style distracting in the first twenty or so minutes, but after that I was honestly too wrapped up in the proceedings onscreen to care too much about the visual style.

Star Trek Into Darkness really is one of those experiences where I forgot that I was in a movie theater and found myself completely involved in what was happening on the screen.  Part of this has to do with the way that Abrams and co. keep the tension and level of threat constantly building throughout the picture.  While the story takes a number of turns that I would rather not mention here, they always increase the sense of danger and never undermine it.  But the biggest strength of the movie is the way that it constantly pushes the characters to their limits.  Almost every character confronts enormous responsibilities: Trek fans should smile at Sulu admitting that he’s getting used to the Captain’s chair after Kirk leaves him in command multiple times, and there’s a particularly great moment when Uhura has to use her linguistic skills to negotiate with a group of Klingons.  It’s rare to see a film that is committed to turning its own characters into better people, and the Enterprise crew that emerges at the end of this film is much stronger and more mature than they were at the beginning.

I’m still astonished at how this picture manages to be a gripping summer spectacle that still embraces the sometimes corny and naïve essence of “Star Trek.”  We’ve had several films over the past few years that have confronted our post-9/11 concerns about fear, loss, justice and vengeance: Zero Dark Thirty, Munich and The Dark Knight are among the most memorable.  But to confront deeply troubling modern concerns in an exciting summer entertainment, one that truly questions the moral foundations of civilized society, but also truly believes that humanity is good and that it can and will achieve great things, well there’s several ways to describe that.  It’s bold.  It’s corny.  It’s hopelessly naïve.  But there’s another way to describe it: it’s Star Trek.

4 stars (out of 4)

Thursday, April 18, 2013

The Side Effects Dilemma


So, I've been wrastling with whether or not to post a link to this review for a little while.  You see, I wrote this review a while back, but I hesitated to link it here because I didn't quite approve of one of the edits.  But I decided to go ahead and put it here.  If you care to take a look, please come back here where I will explain my discomfort with it:

http://thebeaveronline.co.uk/2013/03/06/side-effects/

Alright, so that part where it says, "Jude Law, whose serviceable performance is undermined by the ineffective writing."  I didn't write that part.  Now, this is not just some writer's ego going: "You changed the sacred words that I wrote, arghle-blargle-blargle!"  I actually completed understand why the edit was made.  Originally, I just added a parenthetical after the observation about Jude Law: "(this is a criticism of the writing not the performance)."  I guess that is rather vague.  I said that I wasn't criticizing the performance, but I didn't really say anything about it.  I will submit that I had already delivered my criticism of the writing by saying that it was conventional.  But again, I understand that the parenthetical left something to be desired.

My problem is that I actually don't agree with what was added.  I thought Jude Law's performance was better than "serviceable" (and doesn't that word just sound condescending?) and that the writing was actually effective at creating a good thriller (I believe I made that observation about the film as a whole several times in the review).  I'm not quite sure what "ineffective writing" even means.

Anyway, it's better to explain my qualms with it rather than pretending the review doesn't exist just because of one phrase.  This is likely to be my last review for The Beaver, since I'm not sure if they're publishing any more issues for the rest of the school year, and after this I'll no longer be at LSE.  But it's been very fun.

Friday, April 5, 2013

"The Wonderment of Life's Experience"



I wish I could have met him.

It must seem strange to say this, but it’s true: Roger Ebert was part of my life.  I never met him.  I only had one small moment of contact with him on the Internet.  But when I heard yesterday that he had died, it really felt like I had lost an important person from my life.  But in another way, this doesn’t seem strange at all.  Certainly movies are among the most important things for me.  They are not just a hobby, not just something to pass the time.  They are an important part of my life.  And for as long as I can remember, the Movies have been inseparable from the name Roger Ebert.

My dad raised me on movies.  Everyone was raised on movies, of course, but my dad taught me about movies.  I know that when I was a kid I watched Disney movies and Thomas the Tank Engine, but I also know that wasn’t all I watched.  Simply put: the first movie I can remember watching was The Bridge on the River Kwai.  Not exactly something most little kids watch.  My dad was ok with me watching new movies, but he wanted to make sure that I knew the classics.  He introduced me to John Ford with The Searchers and My Darling Clementine, to Kurosawa with Seven Samurai and Yojimbo.  I learned that movies had directors, not just stars.  I learned that black-and-white movies aren’t boring, and I was always confused whenever other kids didn’t want to watch a black-and-white movie.  This was my education in cinema.  And throughout this education, there was the name Roger Ebert.

I don’t remember my dad ever explaining to me who Roger Ebert was (though I do remember him having to explain to me why a movie couldn’t get more than Two Thumbs Up; shut up, I was little).  I saw his books lying around the house.  I saw his name on the VHS boxes and ads in the paper next to that famous, immortal expression of praise.  Roger Ebert was always part of the conversation whenever we would talk about movies.  Whenever we would watch an old movie, there was a good chance that we were watching something from his Great Movies list (though not always; one summer we did an Anthony Mann festival and I was disappointed to see that there were no Mann pictures in the Great Movies, not even Winchester ’73 or The Man From Laramie).  If we were watching a movie made since 1967, I would immediately search for Ebert’s review after seeing it.  Whenever there was a new movie coming out that I wanted to see, I would always ask my dad what Ebert gave it, and then when I started using the computer on my own, his website was the first one I would check for a new review; I can still remember how happy I was when my dad told me that Ebert had given The Return of the King 3 ½ stars.  It didn’t matter what other critics said.  All that mattered was that Roger Ebert liked it.

The archive of reviews on RogerEbert.com was a treasure trove.  I spent hours reading and rereading his past reviews to the point where it became a running joke in my family: “What’s Nick doing?”  “Probably reading Roger Ebert.”  Clearly it wasn’t just about discovering what movies he recommended.  There really was no logical reason for me to reread his review of (say) Local Hero five thousand times.  I had already seen it, I already knew it was a wonderful movie, and I already knew he thought it was a wonderful movie.  But I just had so much fun reading his reviews that I didn’t want to stop.

It was from my dad and Roger Ebert that I learned how to think about movies.  The Internet is already filling up with wonderful tributes from film critics writing that they wouldn’t be where they are without Roger.  My claim is much smaller, but no less true: I probably wouldn’t be writing this blog or have even written four reviews for a student newspaper without him.

But losing him means even more than losing a favorite critic and a mentor.  You see, something happens when you read someone’s work constantly for years.  In RogerEbert.com editor Jim Emerson’s wonderful tribute, he writes about communicating with Roger and reading his work every day for the last ten years.  I cannot claim the same kind of connection.  The only actual moment of contact that I had with him was on his blog.  He had written a post centered on the French word frisson.  He was contemplating the idea that we’re too obsessed with moments of intense excitement.  At the time, I was reading Charles Dickens’ Bleak House, a book that even my A.P. English Literature teacher thought was boring.  I had been reading it for months, and I still had a while to go.  But I loved the book.  Just like my dad instilled a love of movies in me, my mom had instilled a love of Charles Dickens.  I was reading slowly because I didn’t want it to end.  Knowing Roger’s love of Dickens, I posted a rambling comment about much I was enjoying the book despite the lack of frisson.  And he posted a response: “One of his greatest.  A world to enter.  And when he sometimes lets lose for two or three paragraphs of, essentially, prose poems.”  I was so happy when I saw this.  I still have the screengrab from the website.  It was probably something he wrote in only a few seconds, but it meant so much to me: I had just had a conversation about literature, about Charles Dickens with Roger Ebert!


I can’t claim a close connection to Roger Ebert, but I can’t deny that I really felt like I knew him.  I’m sure part of this has to do with how he completely opened himself up through his blog and autobiography: it was wonderful to realize that I could go to his website and find that he had written beautiful words about literally anything.  But I think this feeling that I knew him also has to do with the fact that I started reading his work when I was a child, and that I can’t remember the first time that I heard his name.  There’s something about things that you discover before you can even create memories.  There doesn’t appear to be a record of them in the brain, but they work their way in there to the point where you just feel like they’ll always be there.

It’s really not fair, isn’t it?  Just the day before he had posted something on his blog updating his health status.  He was going to be cutting back on his reviews, but he was starting a new website, a Kickstarter to bring his show back on the air, and possibly an app having something to do with movies and video games.  And he was going to keep writing about the movies he wanted to see: “On good days, I may wax ecstatic about a movie so good it transports me beyond my illness.”  Roger Ebert was always the best at that kind of thing, at describing the wonderful, glorious experience of seeing a great movie, the “out-of-body experience” as he called it in his review of the original Star Wars.  After months when it wasn’t really clear how he was doing, this blog post was reassuring.  And then…

It’s hard for me to think about what it’s going to be like without him.  I’ve been checking his website every day out of habit for years.  Three times today my fingers began typing the URL almost on their own before I remembered.  I’m no longer the kid who would only check one film critic when a new movie came out, but Roger never ceased to be my first stop.

And according to Jim Emerson, Roger will still be my first stop one more time.  His last review has yet to be published.  It’s a review of Terrence Malick’s To the Wonder.  I usually never read his reviews as soon as they were published because I wanted to see the movie first.  But since I already saw the movie when it came out in the UK, I can read the review as soon as it’s published.  Apparently, he liked it a lot, which I did too, though I also agree with his brief email assessment of it that Emerson quotes: “Such a strange movie.”

About Malick’s absolutely transcendent The Tree of Life, Roger wrote: “Some few films evoke the wonderment of life's experience, and those I consider a form of prayer. Not prayer "to" anyone or anything, but prayer "about" everyone and everything. I believe prayer that makes requests is pointless. What will be, will be. But I value the kind of prayer when you stand at the edge of the sea, or beneath a tree, or smell a flower, or love someone, or do a good thing. Those prayers validate existence and snatch it away from meaningless routine.”  I felt the same way about The Tree of Life and To the Wonder, though I could never hope to express those feelings in such words.  I’m sure Roger Ebert found beautiful things in To the Wonder as well as beautiful words to express them.

I can’t wait to read his review.

Saturday, February 23, 2013

A Celebration of Cinema for the Year 2012




I really was planning on doing the list earlier this year.  Most, if not all critics make their lists of the best films of the year in December before the year even ends.  Those of us without access to screenings weeks before release dates often have to wait until January to see some of the films that critics consider to be the very best.  But it just so happened that none of the films that I saw after deadline (so to speak) ended up on my Top Ten list, so really, I could have posted this during December, too.  But here I am again, just like last year, posting my list of the best films of 2012 on the same weekend as the Oscars.  Like I wrote last year, the timing actually makes sense.  As the Academy celebrates the year in film, we’re going to do our own celebration here at Esoteric.  The following is a list of what I think is worth celebrating in the cinema of 2012.


The best picture that I saw this year was Rian Johnson’s Looper: an exhilarating and emotionally powerful science-fiction film about time travel.  A scene midway through the picture provides its central image: two men are sitting at a diner, a young man (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) and an older man (Bruce Willis).  They are, in fact, the same man.  Willis is from 30 years in the future and has been sent back in time to be killed by his younger self: Gordon-Levitt.  Here we have those questions that we think about all the time: what would you say to the person you were years ago or the person you will become?  Are you a completely different person?  What has happened in 30 years to turn that young man into that old man?

Of course, Looper is not only about existential questions.  It’s an exciting sci-fi crime thriller.  In the future, when the mob wants to murder someone, they send that person back in time to be killed and disposed of by an assassin like Gordon-Levitt.  Eventually, these assassins have to kill their own future selves, guaranteeing that there will be no loose ends.  When Gordon-Levitt fails to kill his future self, he becomes the target of his fellow assassins.  The first half of the movie is a pulse-pounding action picture with strong characterization, visual ingenuity, and such memorable sci-fi images as a man from the future watching parts of his body disappear as his past self is being tortured.

But the heart of the film comes in the second half when Gordon-Levitt hides out from the mob on a farm where a woman (Emily Blunt) lives with her son.  And while the excitement never drops, Looper becomes a more intimate character piece in its second half as the assassin discovers the true reason why his future self traveled back in time and the disturbing secret of the farmer’s son.  Writer-director Johnson displays remarkable storytelling dexterity as he shifts audience sympathy between the two versions of the same man: between Gordon-Levitt, who begins the story as a not entirely sympathetic murderer, and Willis, who is revealed to have heartbreaking and dark motivations for his journey through time. 

The issue that always lurks at the heart of Looper is the question of how a person becomes the person he or she will be in ten, thirty or fifty years.  Will that be the same person?  Has that future been predetermined?  In its second half, Looper hones in on the most significant symbol of this question: raising a child.  The picture is filled with parental figures: a crime boss who guides a boy into a life of crime; a woman who heals a broken, middle-aged killer; and a mother who believes that with her love she can make her troubled son into a good man despite all evidence to the contrary.  It all leads up to a shattering, genius conclusion that solidifies Looper’s place as a masterpiece of science-fiction.


The first sound heard in Moonrise Kingdom is a thunderclap, and indeed a cloud of melancholy hangs over Wes Anderson’s tale of young love in an island town during the 1960s.  When two twelve-year-olds run away from their homes, the entire island becomes involved in the search for them, and all the while, a storm is preparing to strike.  As hilarious as the picture is, the characters are all so deeply sad and melancholy.  Even the children have a certain sadness just like the adults.  The young lovers are seizing their chance for a romantic adventure out of the young adult books that the girl reads constantly.  But the end of childhood is approaching in the form of a storm that threatens to wipe out the carefree kingdom that they have created for themselves.  Anderson brings to the picture his inimitable visual style, his witty dialogue, and his love for the beauty in things that are destined to fade.


Near the beginning of the dreamlike Turkish police procedural Once Upon a Time in Anatolia, a police officer tells a doctor that he could tell the story of their long night together as if it was a fairy tale, and that perfectly describes the style of Nuri Bilge Ceylan’s film: the story of the hunt for a dead body in the Anatolian steppes.  Two men have already confessed to a murder, but they cannot remember where they have buried the body.  So begins a long night as the prisoners, several police officers, a prosecutor, and a doctor drive through the landscape searching for the corpse.  They appear to be journeying through a dream or a fairy tale with ghostly images of headlights floating through hills of waving grass, statues of monsters hidden beside the road, an anecdote about a woman predicting the exact day of her death, and a girl who walks through a village carrying a light in the dark like an angel.  But the fairy tale ends when the sun rises and the body is found.  And the story shifts from the dreamlike landscape to a cold, hard city.  There are no angels here, just the wife and son of a murdered man.  Now, the mysterious story of the woman who predicted her death has an explanation.  And a doctor discovers that some truths are too terrible to be told.  The dream is over.  The only thing left is an autopsy.


Steven Spielberg’s Lincoln is far from just being a history lesson: it is a dynamic, thoroughly engrossing picture about the exciting, messy process of democracy.  Daniel Day-Lewis commands the screen as the 16th President trying to get the 13th Amendment passed through the House of Representatives.  His portrayal is incredibly human, bringing us the image of an often quiet, very eccentric man who could still use the power of his voice to sway others.  Tony Kushner’s script is fascinating and accomplishes the seemingly impossible task of turning the legislative process into an exciting entertainment.  Spielberg and his gifted cinematographer Janusz Kaminski make the picture a wonderful visual experience with depths of light and shadow filling the film’s many interiors.  And Day-Lewis’ performance is not the only great one in the film: Sally Field brings powerful resonance to her portrayal of Mary Todd Lincoln, and Tommy Lee Jones has fury and thunder as abolitionist Thaddeus Stevens.  Lincoln is not a rosy-hued look at the passage of the 13th Amendment.  It acknowledges that this came about through shady backroom deals and compromises.  But in Stevens, the film finds a powerful moral center: after Stevens compromises his values on the floor of the House, one of his fellow abolitionists asks him with disgust if he would be willing to say anything.  Stevens responds that yes, in fact, he would be willing to do and say anything to end the evil of slavery.  This picture is Hollywood entertainment at its finest.


The Dark Knight Rises, the towering conclusion to Christopher Nolan’s Batman trilogy, is one of the great screen epics.  The film centers on a former superhero who is old, broken and past his prime.  It confronts him with a villain who is physically stronger and possesses a strong sense of his own moral righteousness.  The battle between these two characters takes place in a nightmare extension of our own reality in which the wealthy aristocracy is cold and oblivious to the people below them and the mob that replaces them is actually no better, in which the proliferation of nuclear technology comes back to threaten the American Empire, and in which the practice of invaders claiming to be liberators, so familiar after the Iraq War, is instead used against an American city.  In that vein, it is fitting that the picture would be about people whose sins come back to haunt them: about the child of a former enemy who returns to fulfill her father’s goals, and about two people who thought they had buried a city’s evil only to find that it has literally been building up underground.  While it doesn’t challenge the conventions of the superhero film like its predecessor, The Dark Knight Rises does create an incredible emotional power.  Part of this is due to the performances.  Christian Bale continues his portrayal of Bruce Wayne, not only as a superhero but as a man trying to bury his past; Michael Caine brings extraordinary emotion as he tries to talk Bruce out of his self-destructive behavior.  And Anne Hathaway steals the show as the Cat to Christian Bale’s Bat.  Nolan mounts an impressive spectacle that manages to give weight to both the grand and the intimate.  Nowhere is this more apparent than the sequence when a child sings the National Anthem at a football game as a masked villain lays out the final pieces of his plan and walks down a hallway to his destiny.


Martin McDonagh’s Seven Psychopaths is a wonderful, explosive mix of violence, pitch-black humor and surprisingly thoughtfulness, the story of two dog-nappers who must flee a mobster when they kidnap his dog, while their friend (Colin Farrell) struggles with a screenplay idea.  Sam Rockwell gives a wild, outlandish performance as a man obsessed with the excitement of movie violence, a performance only matched by the quiet soulfulness of Christopher Walken’s work as Rockwell’s partner, a man with his own history of violence.  The picture is funny, sickening and exhilarating, not at all surprising from the writer/director of In Bruges.  What is surprising is the thoughtful way McDonagh weaves America’s history of violence into the proceedings, particularly the violence of racism in the 20th Century and the atrocities of the Vietnam War.  Farrell’s screenplay idea includes an unfinished scene involving a Vietnamese man preparing to commit an act of revenge for the atrocities at My Lai, a scene that Farrell can only see ending in violence.  So he doesn’t want to finish it.  The solution that Walken provides for this scene is one of the most thought-provoking and moving moments in any film this year.


Michael Haneke’s Amour is a love story about death.  More specifically, it is about inevitable death, death that you can see coming for a long time but have no power to stop.  It is a love story about an old man whose wife has a stroke.  Director Haneke simply watches the husband care for his wife as she slowly slips toward death.  He must feed her, wash her, even help her to use the toilet.  Eventually there comes the moment when her words stop making sense, and he realizes that he will never actually have another conversation with his wife.  They used to talk about music, poetry and art, but even though she is still alive, they will never do that again.  The next step is inevitable.  There is no hope, no last minute cure.  The picture is almost unbearably painful at times, but what keeps it together is the simple fact that this is a film about true love.  The kind of love that is simply flowers and candy would not last this long.  The love onscreen in Amour is true love.  It’s not pretty, and no one writes poetry about it.  No one, that is, except Michael Haneke.


The Cabin in the Woods is a picture charged with excitement and originality.  It appears to be a horror film about a group of college students being chased by monsters through the woods.  At least, it appears so from the trailer.  In fact, the first scene of the film is straight out of an office comedy.  But the office is no ordinary office.  It is the control center for a real-life horror film.  The script from Joss Whedon and director Drew Goddard dances back and forth between comedy and horror as the office workers in the control center monitor the actions of the college co-eds who have stumbled into their trap and take bets on how they will be killed.  But the picture doesn’t just stop at that twist.  As the film progresses, more secrets are revealed, and more and more hell breaks loose.  The film works as a fascinating deconstruction of the horror genre, but it works even better as a wildly original entertainment.


One of the reasons why I go to the movies is to see pictures like Safety Not Guaranteed: a film so completely unexpected, so funny, and so full of humanity that I forget that I’m sitting in a movie theater while I’m watching it.  The picture finds a young magazine intern (Aubrey Plaza) assigned to investigate an incredibly eccentric man (Mark Duplass) who claims to have invented time travel.  She convinces the man that she wants to time travel with him, and as he tells her his paranoid stories, involves her in crimes, and gives her his training lessons for the journey she’s sure is impossible, she falls in love with him.  The movie enfolds so naturally and effortlessly that we hold our breath, hoping that this experience isn’t too good to be real.  Even though it loses a bit of its magic in the third act, the picture still ends up being an absolutely wonderful experience.


As the first part of a trilogy, The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey is not a complete narrative, but it is a complete emotional experience, a grand and glorious adventure.  Martin Freeman gives a wonderful performance as Bilbo Baggins, the home-loving hobbit who is convinced to join in an adventure with a wizard and thirteen dwarves, an adventure that will have important consequences leading to the story we know as The Lord of the Rings.  Director Peter Jackson does not disappoint in delivering spectacular action sequences: standouts include an encounter with three trolls, a rollercoaster battle with goblins, and a cliff-hanging climax in a mountain forest.  But the most memorable moments are quiet dialogue scenes.  The lengthy opening party scene at Bilbo’s home in the Shire is reminiscent of the wedding scenes in The Godfather and The Deer Hunter in how it establishes the many characters we will follow on the journey: it features two particularly wonderful dialogue sequences in which Gandalf the wizard tries to coax Bilbo to go on the adventure and a cautious dwarf attempts to talk his leader out of the quest.  One of my favorite moments comes later in the picture as one of Bilbo’s companions realizes that he has never known what it is like to have a home.  But the most memorable scene in the entire film is the confrontation between Bilbo and Gollum beneath the Misty Mountains.  Here is where Bilbo finds a very special gold ring and makes a crucial decision to spare a life.  In returning to Middle-Earth, Peter Jackson has created another stunning adventure.

A list of ten films is certainly not enough for a celebration of film, so here is a list of the other pictures that I enjoyed in 2012 (in alphabetical order):


Argo: Ben Affleck’s 1970’s-style thriller about the attempt to rescue six Americans from Iran after the 1979 revolution using a cover story from Hollywood.  The opening sequence depicting the storming of the American Embassy in Tehran is masterful cinema.  A summer entertainment for adults.

The Avengers: Joss Whedon’s exhilarating comic book epic was one of the finest mainstream entertainments in years.

Beasts of the Southern Wild: A dreamlike examination of nature and destruction from a child’s point of view.  Young Quvenzhané Wallis has a commanding screen presence.

Bernie: Richard Linklater’s biting dark comedy starring Jack Black as a beloved man in a Texas town who almost gets away with the murder of a widely-hated old woman.

Brave: Pixar’s visually wonderful film about an independent-minded Scottish princess and her mother.

Django Unchained: Quentin Tarantino’s violent, funny and disturbing slavery-western-exploitation picture.  Jamie Foxx creates a classic Western hero and Christoph Waltz brings great emotional resonance to the film.

Flight: Denzel Washington is fantastic in the role of an alcoholic pilot who comes under scrutiny after he pulls off a miraculous landing of a broken airliner.  Director Robert Zemeckis returns to live action with an intimate character study that also happens to contain an airplane crash that is one of the most terrifying sequences in recent film history.

The Grey: A harrowing film about survival in a land of ice and wolves with a fantastic lead performance by Liam Neeson and surprisingly thoughtful dialogue about life and death.

The Hunger Games: The exhilarating adaptation of Suzanne Collins’ novel about a futuristic dystopia where teenagers fight to the death on national television.    

Killing Them Softly: A fascinating crime picture about a stickup that sends shockwaves through a community of New Orleans criminals.  Brad Pitt, James Gandolfini and Richard Jenkins give great performances as people who have spent far too many years in their lives of crime, and the robbery scene is a masterpiece of suspense.

The Master: Paul Thomas Anderson’s ambitious and elusive film about a cult leader and the disturbed war veteran who encounters him.  I must admit that I still don’t understand this picture, but I also have to admit that I have never seen anything quite like it.

Prometheus: A thought-provoking and visually astonishing science-fiction/horror film from Ridley Scott about a group of scientists searching a distant planet for the creators of humanity.

Red Hook Summer: Spike Lee’s messy, exhilarating return to Brooklyn with an astonishing performance by Clarke Peters as a preacher with a secret.

Silver Linings Playbook: David O. Russell’s romantic comedy about a man just released from a mental institute and a woman with her own emotional problems.  Jennifer Lawrence gives an exciting, high-wire performance.

Zero Dark Thirty: A thrilling and horrifying account of the hunt for Osama bin Laden.  Jessica Chastain is terrific as the woman who doggedly pursued him, representing an entire country that destroyed its soul in a decade-long pursuit of vengeance.


Since I did not have a chance to see everything I would have liked to see this year, here is a list of all the films that I wanted to see but missed: Anna Karenina, Cloud Atlas, The Deep Blue Sea, Haywire, Holy Motors, The Impossible, The Imposter, The Kid With a Bike, Rust and Bone, Side by Side, This is Not a Film, The Turin Horse.

And here we are again, at the end of a year in cinema and the start of a brand new one…

Saturday, February 16, 2013

The UnMasterful "Hitchcock"


The new film Hitchcock has just opened in the UK, leading to a new milestone: my first negative review, which can be found at the LSE Beaver.

http://issuu.com/readbeaveronline/docs/785/18

Thursday, January 24, 2013

Actual Movie Reviews


I normally don't consider most of the posts on this blog to be actual movie reviews.  The purpose of a review is to give the reader a sense of what the experience of a movie is like so that the reader can decide whether or not to see the picture in question.  These posts are more like rambling, nerdy essays where I obsess over one or more particular details or themes of a movie, and they rarely make any sense if you haven't seen it.

But now I've finally written some movie reviews!  Here are links to two reviews that I've written for The Beaver, the student newspaper of the London School of Economics.

The first is a review of a re-release of Lawrence of Arabia from last November:
http://issuu.com/readbeaveronline/docs/778/15

The second is a more recent review of The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, essentially a shorter and probably better version of the post about it that I wrote on this blog.
http://issuu.com/readbeaveronline/docs/782/21