What does it mean to be a genius? Is this label solely applicable to the Einsteins and Hawkings of the world; celebrated minds with international renown. Or could those without global appreciation still fall under the category? Why are the chefs of Big Joe’s Downtown Barbecue less of a genius than those who study quantum physics? They are just as, if not more talented in their craft than any person with a PhD next to their name. And which of us is qualified to determine exactly who is a genius and who isn’t? Is my opinion on genius somehow any more valid than yours? Perhaps all it takes to be a genius is to find a group of people who accept you, and your mind, for what it is; your friends, family.
These are the ideas that director Lenny Abrahamson explores in his new film Frank. Simultaneously a harsh indictment of the current state of the music industry and a ponderous thesis on the nature of genius (if such a title is even important), Frank has a lot on its mind. Oftentimes, when I speak in front of groups, the ideas that are so clearly formed in my head come out slightly discoherent and difficult to understand. I often ask myself “How do you express such intricate ideas in a limited period of time?” I feel like the same applies to Frank on many occasions. Its big ideas fail to consistently manifest themselves into a cohesive motion picture. Some sections feel disjointed, and character interactions oftentimes fail to establish the relationships that become so crucial to the narrative. Abrahamson clumsily utilizes voice-over narration to set-up the story, and it often comes off as false. The movie is much better when it shows you its ideas rather than when it tries to tell you them.
With that being said, I will stay say that the movie is still largely a success. You walk out of the theater feeling moved by the experience; maybe the route it takes isn’t the best, but the film definitely reaches a satisfying destination. Michael Fassbender gives a great performance as Frank; a character that could have ended up being very one-note turns into someone quite dynamic. Sure, he’s often very funny (his character wears a giant paper-mache mask at all times, what can you expect?) but there’s a level of pain beneath it all. What is going on beneath that giant mask of his? Without spoiling anything, the answer to this question (or maybe lack thereof) works on every level. The rest of the performances work as well: MaggieGyllenhaal tries a bit too hard as Frank’s second-in-command, but her character comes as convincing nonetheless. The other side members of the band are all played well, with Scoot McNairy making great use of his relatively few minutes on screen. It’s actually the lead performance by Domhnall Gleeson that leaves the most to be desired; the movie plunges into some dark territory, but he fails to bring the proper gravitas to the proceedings. He more or less acts throughout the entire movie as if its an off-kilter comedy, and while it is that, it is also so much more. It’s unfortunate that he fails to take advantage of this depth.
The movie is about the journey of Frank’s band, and as such the soundtrack is quite good. Whether or not you think Frank is a genius by the end of the movie, you’ll at least appreciate his music. There’s a standout song that Frank improvises about a “lone, standing tuft” on a rug that will have the entire theater smiling. Like I said, there’s also some commentary about the current music industry’s emphasis on popularity and “likability” (the script has a lot of fun with that word), and while it’s on-point with its judgement, it really is just a side-note that accentuates the story’s headier themes. And that’s really the main reason I like this movie so much; it has a lot to say, but it doesn’t take itself too seriously. If the movie ever begins to feel too dour, it will promptly remind you that, hey, this weird Frank guy is wearing a giant paper-mache mask. What the hell is wrong with him? Is there anything wrong with him at all? Is he crazy or a genius? Both? The answers to these questions are entirely subjective, and I highly recommend that you go and see this movie to figure out what your stance is.
I give Frank an . . . .
That means go see it right now!
So have you seen Frank? Do you agree with my assessment? Let me know below!
In other news, college is going well-enough, but it’s definitely keeping me busy. I don’t know how much content I’ll be able to put out there from here on out, but I will stay consistent with my reviews for the AFI Challenge. Thanks for your understanding!
Hey guys, sorry I haven’t posted anything recently. I’m moving into college this week, so I’ve been quite busy saying goodbye to friends and getting ready to move out. Because of how jam-packed my schedule has been, I’m going to take a week off from the AFI Challenge. That means my review of Blade Runner will be moved from this coming Monday to the following Monday. As detailed on the About page for the AFI Challenge, I had a total of four weeks I could skip throughout the entire challenge. Now that number is reduced to three! Anyway, I currently have a review in the works for the movie Frank and another post I expect to put out in the next couple days. Sorry for the lack of content over this week, I promise there’s more coming!
Here’s my third entry in the AFI Challenge (see its About page) and we’re finally reaching some uncharted ground. While I had varying degrees of familiarity with the previous films on this list, I didn’t have any clue what this movie was about, and knew even less regarding why it was given a spot on the list. I did some light research before watching it and wasn’t particularly thrilled by what I discovered: it was a musical (not my favorite movie style) chronicling the life story of Broadway legend George M. Cohan (whom I knew little about) that was supposed to be one of the most shamelessly patriotic movies ever made (the very thought of which made me grimace). At #98 on the list is Yankee Doodle Dandy.
To address my primary concern going in: yes, this movie is very patriotic and doesn’t think twice when it comes to showboating “American excellence.” How receptive you are to this attitude will depend entirely on your personal beliefs. Some find unbridled patriotism to be one of America’s greatest qualities, while others think that it’s more than little bit annoying. Being perfectly honest, I fall into the latter category; I love the United States, but I often find the deification of American culture to be quite irritating. That being said, there was not a single point in this movie where I was bothered by its unapologetic display of patriotism. Above all else, this movie’s aims to paint a nuanced and loving portrait of the “man who owned Broadway,” George M. Cohan. His unbridled love for the United States was one of his most enduring characteristics, and it would be a crime to portray him any differently.
Once the movie ended, I immediately did some brief reading on the life of Cohan as to have a frame to center my thoughts on the film within. As with any Hollywood biopic, his life story was romanticized, purified, and all around doctored to fit that era’s general mold of what a film-biography looked like. Yet, even with the alterations, the movie succeeds in bringing its central character to life in a way few other biopics can make claim to. While the minute details may have changed, you can still feel Cohan’s soul echo throughout the picture’s entirety.
These sorts of movies live and die off their lead performances, and James Cagney’s portrayal of Cohan is far and away the best part of the film. It’s quite simply one of the better screen-performances of the past 75 years. Cagney doesn’t just play Cohan, but becomes him, inhabits his persona in a way that very few actors are capable of. For the most part, he’s cocky, self-assured, and doesn’t concern himself with the opinions of those who doubt him. He knows that he’s the very best in the business, and he’ll make sure to prove you wrong if you dare to disagree. To be frank, he’s a bit of an asshole. But fitting right into Cohan’s reputation, Cagney somehow manages to charm the audience into liking him. Early on in the film when a financier refuses to fund Cohan’s plays, you’re not hoping that he take their advice and change his work, but instead are rooting for him when he barges out of their office in a huff.
James Cagney as George M. Cohan
The film opens with an older Cohan’s presence being summoned by none other than Franklin D. Roosevelt, then president of the United States. Cohan assumes the worst, considering that he’s currently playing a comedic version of FDR in a new musical. However, when he enters the Oval Office, he finds the president to be quite welcoming towards him (side note: the movie smartly shoots Roosevelt solely from the back, as to never see his face. Apparently, it was the first time a living president was ever portrayed on screen. It’s tastefully done, and makes his inclusion less distracting). Cohan, being himself, begins to tell the president his entire life story after being prompted by a simple question. And with that, we are whisked backwards in time, to decades earlier on the fourth of July, where little George M. Cohan is just being born. Patriotic indeed.
As we soon learn, the theater was in Cohan’s blood from the beginning. Both of his parents were performers, and once Cohan and his little sister Josie reach their teenage years, the entire family begins to tour the east coast as “The Four Cohans.” From his very first lead performance at thirteen, it’s clear that little Georgie Cohan always has been the best at what he does, and never has had any reservations about letting other people know it. Although its humorous to watch a young Cohan’s cockiness sabotage many of his family’s attempts at reaching prominence, these scenes also set up how important family is in Cohan’s life. His relationship with his father in particular is impressively done, as Cagney and Walter Huston (Cohan Sr.) have perfect chemistry. In fact, it’s his father that imbues him with the love for America that becomes so important to his life.
Walter Huston as George’s father, Jerry Cohan. Clearly patriotism runs in the family.
Although Cagney plays Cohan at his most boisterous for the majority of the film (which is not a bad thing), his performance is truly memorable for the brief snippets where we see Cohan’s innermost vulnerabilities. These moments don’t pop up often, but are all the more moving due to their sparse nature. Watching the pain subtly ripple through his face as he says goodbye to his dying father is a sad, yet remarkable thing. You can see he’s trying to maintain his composure, but can’t help letting some of his sadness leak through. It’s rather powerful when he eventually bursts into tears. Even in lighter moments, such as when an Army officer tells him he’s too old to serve in World War I, the viewer can see that there’s a real human being beneath all the energy and glitz of showbiz.
But that doesn’t mean the glitz of showbiz is a bad thing in this movie; quite the contrary! The film’s musical numbers are some of its most impressive scenes. Due to the manner in which they’re shot, it feels like you’re actually watching a Broadway musical. They’re all impressively choreographed and set to Cohan’s catchiest musical numbers (I found myself humming “Yankee Doodle Boy” well into the next day after watching). It’s in these songs that the movie’s patriotic vibes really come alive. Cohan made his music to uplift the American people, and its clear he takes great pride in this effort. He and his music are a singular entity; his musicals are simply an extension of his patriotic personality, and these scenes expertly convey this. And did I mention the dancing? Even if Cagney’s portrayal lacked nuance, it’d still be noteworthy solely for his tap-dancing performances. Man, those are impressive.
As the movie progresses, Cohan’s narration occasionally pops in to remind us that he’s still telling his story to Roosevelt, and it eventually catches up to the present-day. So, what was the reason for the president summoning Cohan to his office? The answer shocks Cohan into disbelief: he’s being awarded a Congressional Medal of Honor for his service to the United States. All throughout the film, Cohan seems to have a perfect response to every situation, yet here, he is speechless. He eventually musters up the strength to ask “Are you sure there isn’t a mistake?” After all, he was too old to fight in any war; how could he be given such a prestigious honor? The president calmly tells him that there are many ways to serve your country, and that Cohan gave the nation strength in its times of need.
Cohan literally dances out of the White House, tap-dancing his way down the stairs and to the exit (a masterful work of improvisation by Cagney, who apparently came up with the idea in the midst of filming). The man adored his country, so the filmmakers made a movie that expressed this love as clearly as possible. It’s important to note that this movie came out in 1942, as the United States was in the midst of fighting the Second World War. There was no guarantee that America was going to succeed in its fight against tyranny, and many Americans must have been quite afraid. For a movie such as this to release in those difficult times must’ve had an enormous impact; when things seem hopeless, an uplifting and patriotic film such as this can change hearts. Part of the reason movies are included on the AFI List is for their cultural significance, and I have no doubt that this movie made a splash during its initial release. Although I normally find myself annoyed by excessive and brazen patriotism, I’m willing to make an exception on this one instance.
I give Yankee Doodle Dandy a rating of . . . .
It without a doubt earns its spot on the list.
So far the American Film Institute is going three for three, let’s see if they can keep it up.
So have you seen Yankee Doodle Dandy? If so, what do you think of it? Do you think it earns its spot as #98 on the AFI list of Top 100 Greatest American Films? Be sure to respond to the poll, and then let me know your thoughts below. See you around next week for my review of #97 on the list, Blade Runner.
Yankee Doodle Dandy Info
Directed by: Michael Curtiz
Written by: Robert Buckner and Edmund Josephy
Starring: James Cagney, Walter Huston, Joan Leslie, and Richard Whorf
Running Time: 126 minutes
Release Date: June 6th, 1942
Production Company: Warner Bros.
It’s difficult to watch a film with such exciting potential flounder in its attempt to reach greatness. In your mind, you see the movie it could have become, a classic that would be remembered for years. Yet what you see in your mind and what you see on the screen are two very different things; the actual movie ends up letting you down, all the more because you see how close it was to achieving its ambitions. Unfortunately, I have to say that this is the case with Calvary, the latest film from Irish director John McDonagh.
From the very first scene, you get a taste of the exquisite filmmaking potential lying beneath all of Calvary‘s flaws. Father James Lavelle, played by Brendan Gleeson, sits in the confessional booth, when a parishioner walks in and tells him that he “first tasted semen when he was seven years old.” “Quite the opening line,” remarks Lavelle, but you can tell he immediately regrets it. You see, Lavelle is far from a perfect man, but he is by all accounts a decent one and a very good priest. Gleeson does a great job making use of this multifaceted character. It’s a subtly great performance, one that you begin to respect immediately. Indeed, Gleeson’s reaction is remarkably genuine when the parishioner says that he’s going to kill Lavelle; not because he’s a bad priest, like the one who raped the parishioner, but because he’s a good one. “Killing a priest on a Sunday. That’ll be a good one.”
This scene grabs your attention immediately; it’s a terrific concept that’s made even better in a later scene. Lavelle reveals to the local bishop that he, and he alone, knows the identity of the person who threatened to take his life; the viewer is still left in the dark. As the movie develops, it’s fascinating to watch Lavelle interact with the various members of the local community while you try to figure out if he’s talking to the killer. Is it that guy? Or maybe him? Or even him???
It’s regrettable, then, that it is in this area that Calvary starts to falter. Much of the film involves a variety of side characters who live in this rural Irish town, and it tries to show you who they are and why they make certain decisions. But the film struggles to make any of these citizens seem anything like real people, and their interactions with Lavelle often come off as totally hamfisted. Even when you are given some expository information on a character, many of their actions still make little sense. This is very damaging to a film where the supporting cast is just as, if not more important to the main story than the protagonist himself.
A major part of this problem is that this movie can’t seem to decide what it wants to be; a black comedy, or a dark drama with occasional comedic elements. The truth is that it works far better as the latter, but all too often will try to be the former. The best parts of the movie are those where its serious and ponderous, and then throws in a quirky event to lighten the otherwise dour mood. But instead it will randomly alternate between long stretches of bleak storytelling (good) and then mostly pointless comedic exercises (bad). When a commoner engages Lavelle in a prolonged discussion about him feeling violent due to his inability to get laid, you’re not laughing at the exchange, but instead thinking how out of place it feels with the rest of the film. The same could be said of when an arrogant millionaire urinates on one of his many valuable paintings. Some people in the theater laughed, but most stayed silent. This is a gloomy movie about pitch-black subject matter; you don’t want to laugh at what’s happening, despite its many attempts to make you do so.
Luckily, it all eventually culminates in a fitting conclusion that I did find to be rather poignant. Without spoiling anything, I will say that the reveal of the would-be killer is well-done. The ending will undoubtedly provoke discussion on what message the story is trying to convey, as it could be interpreted in many different ways. I suspect that this is exactly what McDonagh intended.
When looking back on Calvary, I see a movie with an excellent opening and closing, and then a lot of mehhh tucked in between. I will say that its a decent film, but not the great one that it tries to be. There are simply too many problems for me to say this is the “important” film that some are claiming it to be. Nonetheless, I caught myself the next day contemplating its fantastic ending and somber themes. Despite my many concerns, there’s something to be said for a movie that can stick with you.
I give Calvary a….
That means go see it if you’re interested.
So have you seen Calvary? Do you agree with my assessment? Let me know below!
Calvary Info Directed by: John McDonagh Written by: John McDonagh Starring: Brendan Gleeson, Kelly Reilly, Chris O'Dowd, and Aiden Gillen Running Time: 101 minutes Release Date: August 1, 2014 (United States) Production Company: Reprisal Films, Octagon Films, and Protagonist Pictures
This is my second entry in the AFI Challenge (see its About page) and it’d be an understatement to say that I enjoyed watching this movie more than the last one. Whereas Ben-Hur was a 3+ hour long epic with classical sensibilities (that I still found to be great; check out my review here), this film runs at brisk 80 minutes, filling every second with fun and creativity. At #99 on the list is Toy Story.
When you watch this movie today, you laugh at the jokes, admire the creativity, and enjoy the simple story of an emerging friendship. Amidst this all, it’s easy to forget just how monumental this movie was at the time of its release. Do you want to know how many 3-D animated films were released so far just this year? Well, there’s The LegoMovie, How to Train Your Dragon 2, Rio 2, The Nut Job, Planes: Fire and Rescue, Mr. Peabody and Sherman, along with several others that I’m forgetting. That’s just the theatrical realm, not even taking into account how many came out via the straight-to-DVD format. Obviously, this method of filmmaking is quite popular in today’s culture.
Do you want to know how many 3-D animated films were released in 1995? Just one: Toy Story. And prior to that film, there were none. When it initially came into theaters, nothing like this had ever been seen on the screen. Sure, there were a couple of short films released to limited audiences (all produced by Pixar), but most people had no familiarity with this sort of silver-screen magic.
I was born a year too late, in 1996, so I never got to experience the sense of wonderment from seeing this type of movie for the first time. These were the sort of movies that I grew up with, and I just became accustomed to them after a certain point in time. However, if you put yourself in the proper mindset beforehand, I think anyone can watch this movie and see it through the eyes of someone sitting in the theater back in 1995. I’ve probably seen this movie at least ten times (I was Buzz Lightyear for Halloween one year), but I found myself marveling at the animation as I watched it once again . As familiar as I now am with the use of 3-D animation, there were certain sequences in this movie that took my breath away.
The animation process at Pixar
Toy Story‘s greatness, however extends far beyond its exquisite use of technology. It’s true claim to its spot on the list lies in its touching and imaginatively told story. One of the major reasons it works as well as it does is because of the convincing world it establishes. I think that, as children, everyone imbues toys with their own distinct characteristics and backgrounds; to the innocent child, these toys are alive in much the same way as any other living person. Pixar just takes the next logical step: what if every time a child was absent, the toys truly came to life? It’s a genius concept, one that can capture the imagination of any child and tickle the nostalgia of adults. In its execution of this world, the most important aspect is Pixar’s meticulous attention to detail. Be it the layout of Andy’s (the owner of the toys) room, similar to that of any rowdy kid under the age of ten, or Andy’s name written in faded marker on each toy’s foot, complete with an adorably accidental upside down “N”, everything exudes an air of authenticity.
Contributing to the film’s authenticity is that every supporting character, no matter how minor, has their own unique (and wholly original) personalities. There’s the wimpy Tyrannosaurus Rex trying to be scary, the cynical and insolent Mr. Potato-Head, the well-intentioned but slow-witted slinky dog who’s unwavering in his commitment to his friends, and many more. The tiny-green army men, just as intense and focused as any real member of the military, orchestrate an impressively intricate operation near the film’s opening in an attempt to discover the new toys Andy’s getting for his birthday. It’s a subtly engrossing sequence; it’s ridiculous to feel such suspense from watching these miniscule toys dash around the house, yet you get nervous for them nonetheless.
The toys and the world around them feel so vividly alive that this film would warrant a spot on the list just for this aspect in conjunction with its groundbreaking animation. It’s a mark of great filmmaking when you fall in love with a movie within the first twenty minutes, before the plot even kicks into high-gear. And when it comes to Toy Story, the central story that the movie eventually evolves into is its best part. After all the world-building and character establishment, this a very human tale about self-doubt and the power of friendship. These themes are expressed through the character developments of Woody and Buzz Lightyear.
Woody and Buzz’s friendship is at the heart of the movie
At the film’s start, Woody is far and away Andy’s favorite toy: he gets the most playtime, his posters adorn the room, and he even earns the coveted resting spot on Andy’s bed. That’s right: out of all his toys, Andy chooses to sleep with Woody. All of this changes on the day of Andy’s birthday party, when the young boy receives the brand-new, space-ranger action figure Buzz Lightyear. Suddenly, all of the luxuries that Woody took for granted are transferred to Buzz. The movie expresses this change through a skillful montage set to Randy Newman’s score (which is universally terrific). And the worst part of it all? Buzz doesn’t even know he’s a toy; he actually thinks he’s a space-ranger who’s going to save the universe. The film sets both of these characters up to be our protagonists, but they both have crucial flaws: Woody is extremely jealous of all the attention Buzz is receiving, while Buzz is arrogant (and a bit delusional) in his belief that he is an actual space-ranger.
Much of the credit for pulling these characters off in a realistic manner has to go to Tom Hanks and Tim Allen, the voice actors for Woody and Buzz respectively. We see Woody take some very selfish actions in his effort to win back Andy’s favor, some of which could construe him as almost a villainous character. But Hanks offers an air of credibility to Woody; he feels as though Andy has abandoned him and he doesn’t know how to respond maturely. Buzz, on the other hand, could have come off as simply annoying (and he sort of does), but Allen also makes him quite endearing. You root for him in his efforts to be a superhero, even though you know that he isn’t. The personal connection you make with Buzz’s dreams and aspirations makes it all the more heartbreaking when he discovers that he is, in fact, just a child’s toy. Watching Buzz approach a stairwell after this moment, still believing that he is a space-ranger who can fly, provokes true empathy from the viewer. As he jumps, you know he’s going to fall straight to the floor, but you silently hope that, somehow, he will be able to fly.
These two characters start off the movie hating each other, which is what makes their eventual friendship so delightful. When trapped at Sid’s house, a child who enjoys mutilating and blowing up his toys, the two must come face-to-face with their imperfections: Buzz discovers that he’s just an action figure, and Woody realizes that he’s simply not as cool a toy as Buzz is. But they both reconcile and eventually overcome their innermost flaws through the help of the other. When they enter Sid’s house, they are enemies; when they leave, they are great friends. It’s poignant in a way that you don’t expect from an 80 minute kid’s movie about talking toys.
Also, it’s worth pointing out: this movie is funny. And I don’t mean in a juvenile slapstick way, or in that it throws in two or three adult oriented jokes throughout its runtime: I mean that it’s consistently hilarious. I picked up on so many little jokes on this viewing that I would never have noticed before. When Woody and Buzz are trapped in the arcade-game with “the claw,” I actually laughed out loud when Woody called the little green aliens inside zealots (because they worship the claw as a deity). Or there’s when Buzz is forced to partake in a little girl’s tea party, and Woody walks in to find him completely drunk; he takes the tea away from Buzz, saying “I think you’ve had enough to drink.” There are so many humorous comments that never would have registered as a kid, but really took hold this viewing. It’s just another great feature in this already awesome movie.
Buzz drunk after a tea party
There’s a scene early on in the film where Woody challenges Buzz’s claim that he can fly, and Buzz sets off to prove him wrong. Instead of actually flying, Buzz ricochets around the room with the help of a bouncy ball and a model airplane attached to the ceiling, which gives the illusion of flying. When he lands, all the other toys crowd around him in amazement, while Woody simply says “That’s not flying, that’s falling with style.” Then, at the film’s climax, the two desperately chase after Andy’s moving van (the family is moving to a new home), having been left behind at Sid’s house. In an effort to catch up, they light one of Sid’s fireworks that was attached to Buzz’s back, propelling them high into the sky. Woody screams, thinking they are going to fall to the ground and die, but Buzz has other plans: he activates his wings, which catch the air around them and allow them to slowly glide to the surface. Woody shouts out “Buzz, you’re flying!” but he calmly retorts “This isn’t flying, this is falling with style.” Randy Newman’s excellent score accentuates the moment, as Woody then yells out Buzz’s classic catchphrase “To infinity and beyond!”
This quick moment is such a perfect culmination of Woody and Buzz’s friendship, tying up loose ends and connecting all the way back to the beginning of the movie. It’s one of my favorite movie moments of all time, and is one of the many reasons that I think this movie is absolutely terrific.
I give Toy Story a rating of . . .
It without a doubt earns its spot on the list.
This is one of those movies that is going to be an undisputed classic for years to come, because I think everyone loves it.
So have you seen Toy Story? If so, what do you think of it? Do you think it earns its spot as #99 on the AFI list of Top 100 Greatest American Films? Be sure to respond to the poll, and then let me know your thoughts below. See you around next week for my review of #98 on the list, Yankee Doodle Dandy.
Toy Story InfoDirected by: John Lasseter
Written by: Joss Whedon, Andrew Stanton, Joel Cohen, and Alec Sokolow
Starring: Tom Hanks, Tim Allen, Don Rickles, and John Morris
Running Time: 81 minutes
Release Date: November 22, 1995
Production Company: Pixar Animation Studios and Walt Disney Pictures
The dastardly alien Ronan the Accuser has begun his siege on the benevolent planet of Xandar. Entire cities burst into flames and thousands probably die by the minute. If Ronan’s plan succeeds, the entire planet will be decimated. In a last ditch effort to stop this evil force, our heroes rush aboard the villain’s flagship. Within seconds, Ronan’s guards flank the protagonists from all sides, surrounding them. The heroes adopt defensive stances, preparing for an imminent attack. One guard glares at the heroes’ leader, his gaze piercing deep into his soul. Our hero stares back. With menace and hatred behind his voice, the guard addresses this leader: “Star Lord.” Peter Quill, the leader of the so-called “Guardians of the Galaxy,” breaks into an appreciative smile. “Finally!” he retorts gratefully, feeling that it’s about time someone addressed him by his code name.
You see, Peter, played by an exceptional Chris Pratt, has been labeling himself as the inter-galactic rogue “Star Lord” for years, and this is the first time ever that someone has addressed him as such. The universe could be burning, and that wouldn’t stop him from enjoying the hell out of this moment. That is until the guard hits him with a sucker punch right to the gut, but that’s not really relevant.
I apologize if you feel that I’ve “spoiled” crucial parts of the movie with my little intro, but I promise that you really shouldn’t worry about knowing plot details ahead of time. From the moment the film introduces Ronan and his flagship, I had a decent idea of what the climax was going to look like, and I certainly anticipated Peter/Star Lord to have a moment similar to the one I described above (not that it was any less enjoyable because of that). To be perfectly frank, Guardians of the Galaxy‘s primary plot is rather predictable, uninteresting even. Where this movie truly excels is in the creation of its characters. Each “Guardian” has a surprising amount of depth, and a lot of heart, which keeps the film compelling even when it’s story feels stale. And, as demonstrated by the above anecdote, it’s really funny and all around fun.
With this movie, Chris Pratt is offically a superstar. He depicts Peter as an arrogant asshole with many flaws, but, in his own words, “still isn’t 100% a dick.” In fact, as we learn from an emotional opening scene (which is important to the story, but not very well-executed), Peter has some demons of his own that he struggles with. You always know that he’s a good guy underneath, but he doesn’t, and it’s fascinating to watch him discover the hero within himself. It’s not exactly easy to pull off, but Pratt does it.
Speaking of characters that are hard to pull off, Rocket Raccoon, another “Guardian,” goes through a character arc similar to Peter’s, but there core personalities are different. Whereas Peter is a bit of an asshole, Rocket is straight-up crazy and unpredictable. I didn’t think I was going to care for this character going in, but Bradley Cooper brings him to life in ways I didn’t think possible. Seriously, this is probably the most impressive voice work within a film in at least the last several years. He’s zany and irreverent, but also struggles with his own feelings of inferiority due to the fact that he’s, well, a talking raccoon. Accompanying him is Groot, a walking tree-like alien who, as I’m sure you know, can only say the words (as voiced by Vin Diesel) “I am Groot.” Although he’s light on dialogue, he just might be favorite character of the movie. He has a pure soul, something no other character can make claim to. As a sci-fi sidekick, he’s a modern Chewbacca.
I am Groot
Zoe Saldana plays Gamora, a character much less showy than her counterparts, but she does a good job with the material that she’s given. Unfortunately, she’s saddled with an unimpressive sub-plot regarding a rivalry with her evil sister. Saldana does the best she can, but the chemistry just isn’t there. The last Guardian is Drax the destroyer, who’s played by the professional wrestler Dave Batista. His backstory involving a slain family and a quest for vengeance is as clichéd as can be, but you grow to love him nonetheless.
There are some smaller roles in the film as well, each played with varying degrees of success. Lee Pace tries hard to inhabit Ronan, but despite some visual flair in the character design, he’s not a particularly engaging villain. Glenn Close is just sort of “there” as leader of Xandar. She doesn’t do a bad job, but her character is rather pointless and could have been played by anyone. Michael Rooker is underused as a side-antagonist with a personal connection to Quill, as is Benicio del Toro as a shady artifact broker. I did love John C. Reily here, however; he’s given the perfect amount of screen-time and makes the best of every second.
While this movie does belong to the characters, the universe that surrounds them is quite impressive. The visual effects are top-notch, the alien creatures creatively designed, and the gadgets unique and original. I don’t want to give out many specific details, but there’s a particular scene involving a “remote-controlled” arrow that is a distinct highlight.
When all’s said and done, this movie is just plain fun. You see so many comic-book movies that try to be dark and serious that it’s refreshing to have such an unconventional change of pace. Now that this movie has scored +$90 million at the box office, I feel it’s safe to assume we have another Marvel franchise on our hands. I’m happy to report that it’s well-deserved.
I give Guardians of the Galaxy a . . .
That means go see it whenever you have some free-time on your hands!
So have you seen Guardians of the Galaxy? Do you agree with my assessment? Let me know below!
Well here we go. This is my first entry in the AFI Challenge (see its About page); after this there’s only 99 left in store! And as far as first entries go, this one was pretty daunting. At #100 on the list is Ben-Hur.
Although I had never seen it, I of course knew of Ben-Hur. The record-breaking winner of eleven Academy Awards that single-handedly saved MGM Studios from financial ruin in the early 1960’s. However, when talking about Ben-Hur today, it seems that other, less positive superlatives arise. Superlatives such as “really, really, really long,” and “really, really, really boring.” While I could respect what Ben-Hur once meant for the film industry, I fully expected to hate this movie as I went into it. It is because of this that I am happy to report that Ben-Hur managed to exceed all my expectations and prove the doubter within me wrong.
This film, based on the nineteenth century novel of the same name, is simply epic. Epic in scope, epic in execution, and, yes, epic in length. At the time of its release, this was the most expensive movie ever made. If you were to apply that label to a film in today’s market, it would mean only one thing: lots of CGI. But what Ben-Hur achieves, with its ambitious use of sets, extras, and practical effects, is more awe-inspiring than the majority of the big-budget blockbusters released this past year. Watching a line of hundreds of Roman soldiers march through green pastures is marvelous because you know that the men you see in the back, at least half a mile away from the primary on-screen action, are real. It all exudes a level of care that feels more epic than most other movies, then or now.
The film’s epic status is cemented in large part by its two primary action scenes, the most famous of which is the chariot race that occurs around two-thirds of the way through the movie. This sequence is thrilling to watch even today, and I’m sure it must have had audiences writhing in suspense during its initial release. As an action scene, it is remarkably well executed for a film that is over fifty years old; it focuses primarily on the riders within the race, but cuts to enough landscape shots of the grandstands surrounding the racers to give the viewer room to breathe. In fact, it was during these wide shots of the grandstands that I caught myself thinking “How on earth were they able to realistically depict a historic racing circuit without actually building it all from the ground up?” Subsequent research answered this question: they did build it from the ground up. One million dollars was allotted specifically to construction of this individual set, used only once in the film; they literally carved the area for the set out of a rock quarry. Epic indeed.
This individual shot probably cost around $5000
While I do agree that the chariot sequence was enthralling, I was most impressed by the other, less-appreciated action scene from the film: the episode of naval warfare that occurs around an hour into the movie. Roman galleys clash with barbarian frigates, exchanging volleys of arrows and cannon-fire (which look more like fireworks than anything else, but are impressive nonetheless). When two ships collide, hundreds of men clash in armed combat, attempting to overtake the opposing vessel. On top of this, we see all of the action take place in the middle of a vast ocean. Now, you’re probably thinking, “well, duh, it’s naval warfare, of course it takes place on an ocean.” But my question is how, back in 1959 no less, were they able film these chaotic scenes while simultaneously depicting the water in a realistic way? I don’t know. They could have used miniatures, but then how do you explain the shots where the actors are seen in the water, all while the giant boat is in frame? And how would they have been able to get all of the static shots of the boats (of which there are many) in the middle of an empty ocean? It’s not like they could have constructed a half-dozen life-size Roman galleys and transported them into the middle of the ocean, then proceed to film it all with the less-than-advanced technology from 1959. Then again, they carved an entire set out of a giant stone quarry, so perhaps I shouldn’t assume. In any case, whereas the chariot race had me in a state of suspense, this sequence had me in a state of wonderment. Simple movie magic, through and through.
I think I’ve appropriately demonstrated the epic nature of this film, but I haven’t really touched on the fact that it also contains a lot of heart. The story of Judah Ben-Hur, an exiled Jew from Jerusalem seeking vengeance, is as soulful as it is compelling. Some may complain about the film’s length, but it is necessary in order to serve the purposes of the story. We see enough of Judah’s life before his exile to truly sympathize with him when it’s all taken away. This is bolstered by the fact that his exile comes as the result of a betrayal from the Roman tribune of Jerusalem, a childhood friend of Judah’s. The tribune, Messala, is played with skill by Stephen Boyd who, along with Charlton Heston who plays Judah, establishes a very authentic friendship between the two. While Messala becomes evil a bit too quickly for it to come off as genuine, the context surrounding his betrayal seems very real.
Judah and Messala as friends, before the whole “despicable betrayal” thing
Charlton Heston gives a good, if not great performance as Judah. But whatever skill is lacking in his performances is more than made up for by the compelling story around him. It’s epic, yet intimate. Suspenseful, but full of heart. However, my favorite aspect of the story is that it is all framed around the tale of Jesus Christ. The film focuses almost exclusively on Judah (no need to retell the story of Christ, already retold thousands of times as is), yet the Messiah has an almost overriding presence in this tale. I am by no means a religious person, and I wasn’t moved by the depiction of Christ in any spiritual way, but that didn’t stop me from appreciating the extra level of meaning it brought to the film. The few scenes concerning Christ are delicately executed and never seem out of place. By the film’s conclusion, it becomes evident how instrumental Christ’s brief interjections were to Judah’s development as a human being. Christ saves his physical life, then his spiritual life as well. For a film with such grand stakes, this part of the story is rather poetic.
The story’s impact should be credited in large part to the direction by William Wyler. The film is shot beautifully in widescreen format. Wyler apparently did not care for this method, but he and his cinematographer, Robert Surtees, make great use of it, depicting vast landscapes and bustling cities all in a single shot. Everything seems to brim with life, whether its the sets or the characters themselves. And when the story reaches its emotional moments, Wyler isn’t afraid to bring out a monumental orchestral score to drive the point home. It may be heavy-handed, but boy is it effective.
There is a romance in here somewhere, along with some quite depressing scenes involving lepers and some ruminations on the nature of family and self-identity. If they come off as unimportant, it’s simply because the film has its priorities straight. This is a movie with a lot on its mind, but it has the good sense to stick closer to what’s interesting (epic action and Judah’s spiritual journey) than to what’s not (I’m looking at you Esther, you and your forced romantic subplot). All in all, in spite of an uninspired lead performance and a running length surpassing three and a half hours (there’s an intermission at around 2 hrs 15 min. I highly advise you to take advantage of it), Ben-Hur is still an extraordinary feat in the realm of filmmaking. I marveled at the action, empathized with the characters, and felt moved by its conclusion. So much of this movie just seemed to be larger than life, achieving things that no other film of its time could make claim to. In a word: epic.
I give Ben-Hur a rating of…
It without a doubt earns its spot on the list.
I surprised even myself with that ranking, but what can I say? I thought it was a great movie.
So have you seen Ben-Hur? If so, what did you think of it? Do you think it earns its spot as #100 on the AFI list of Top 100 Greatest American Films? Be sure to respond to the poll, and then let me know your thoughts below. See you around next week for my review of #99 on the list, Toy Story.
Ben-Hur InfoDirected by: William Wyler
Written by: Karl Tunberg
Starring: Charlton Heston, Stephen Boyd, Haya Harareet, and Jack Hawkins
Running Time: 212 minutes
Release Date: November 18, 1959
Production Company: MGM Studio