DOCTOR STRANGE works as a representation of what has worked for the Marvel Cinematic Universe, as well as working as a step forward for it as well. Though Benedict Cumberbatch's Steven Strange may appear a carbon copy of Robert Downey Jr.'s Tony Stark, it's through his journey to the mystical Kamar Taj, and his subsequent transformation of self that reveals how different this outing is from previous MCU movies.
It seems that director Scott Derrickson wanted to explore a variety of themes underneath the the banner of a Marvel film, touching on many elements of Taoist, Buddhist, Hindu, Confucian, and Christian thought. In showing Strange's journey through the spiritual world, we are simultaneously exploring it as well. It's refreshing to see another populist work want to dig somewhat into something beyond what scores a multi-demographic success in the box office.
The elephant in the room is, of course, the issue of whitewashing. In the source material, the Ancient One (the mystical master of Kamar Taj, and Strange's mentor) was a Tibetan man. Feeling that showing this would be encouraging certain unsavory stereotypes of south-east Asian peoples, Derrickson chose to take things in another direction. Unfortunately, this had the effect of erasing a potential role for an actor or actress of, or descended from, that region. It was a lose-lose situation either way, though it's worth noting that Tilda Swinton does a fantastic job as the Ancient One, really finding a way to make her enigmatic yet clearly possessing some sort of rich internal life.
Thursday, December 1, 2016
Mini Film Review: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
Although J.K. Rowling may have cut her teeth on writing the HARRY POTTER series of books, I don't think that same level of craftsmanship carried over to her first outing as a screenwriter for FANTASTIC BEASTS AND WHERE TO FIND THEM. This film adaptation of Rowling's auxiliary publication of a fictional textbook is, at best, uneven. Tonally, it seems to want to achieve all of the emotional beats of the entirety of the HARRY POTTER films, but in only one film. As a result, much of it never really lines up.
On the one hand, Eddie Redmayne's section of the film as Newt Scamander, author of the titular book the movie is (loosely) based off of, seems to want to be mostly the first film, THE SORCERER'S STONE, what with the whimsy and somewhat forced precociousness of Redmayne's portrayal of Scamander. Unfortunately, that's essentially all he is: kinda awkward. After this film was over, I had no idea who Newt Scamander really was besides superficial details. That characterizes much of his half of the film: surface-level whimsy and wonder with not much else to it dramatically.
On the other hand, we have the more serious section of the film, with Colin Farrell's Graves. It's this section of the film, with its focus on the Second Salem Society (a sort of neo-puritanical reaction to witches), and the complex interactions between its members, wizarding leadership, and the human government, that contains all of the depth of the film. These characters have real motivations, some of them shifting and overlapping, and feel more like actual people. It's a shame it feels crudely grafted on to its sub-par, but visually interesting, other half.
On the one hand, Eddie Redmayne's section of the film as Newt Scamander, author of the titular book the movie is (loosely) based off of, seems to want to be mostly the first film, THE SORCERER'S STONE, what with the whimsy and somewhat forced precociousness of Redmayne's portrayal of Scamander. Unfortunately, that's essentially all he is: kinda awkward. After this film was over, I had no idea who Newt Scamander really was besides superficial details. That characterizes much of his half of the film: surface-level whimsy and wonder with not much else to it dramatically.
On the other hand, we have the more serious section of the film, with Colin Farrell's Graves. It's this section of the film, with its focus on the Second Salem Society (a sort of neo-puritanical reaction to witches), and the complex interactions between its members, wizarding leadership, and the human government, that contains all of the depth of the film. These characters have real motivations, some of them shifting and overlapping, and feel more like actual people. It's a shame it feels crudely grafted on to its sub-par, but visually interesting, other half.
Tuesday, November 29, 2016
Mini Film Review: Arrival
When one considers the current political climate in the United States, the timeliness of something like Denis Villeneuve's ARRIVAL is pretty fantastic. Given the premise of Amy Adam's expert linguist, Louise Banks, being called in to interpret the intentions of the seemingly unintelligible alien visitors to the Earth, it's hard not to think of how there are so many chasms between modern people in this day and age and how they put many of us in similar situations.
This kind of layered, heavily nuanced film-making isn't in any way new for Villeneuve, as his previous English-language film, SICARIO, was a pretty measured look at the intersection of dubious government action and hyper-masculinity, as well as being an allegorical take on how people face trauma at the hands of those systems. That same care carries over to ARRIVAL, a film that manages to work in both the concrete and the abstract. The actual drama of the film is effective due to the purposeful slowness of some of the pacing, scenes sometimes crawling from one to the next. Their run-times give you space to breathe in every detail, after which pieces start to come together.
I would dare say there's a sense of....melancholy? It's this haze that hovers over the whole of the movie, one definitely explored as some events go a bit downhill and as some characters are profoundly changed by their experiences with the visitors. It's these experiences that contain the heart of the film: the fact that the ability to communicate ideas is one of the most powerful tools we have as human beings.
This kind of layered, heavily nuanced film-making isn't in any way new for Villeneuve, as his previous English-language film, SICARIO, was a pretty measured look at the intersection of dubious government action and hyper-masculinity, as well as being an allegorical take on how people face trauma at the hands of those systems. That same care carries over to ARRIVAL, a film that manages to work in both the concrete and the abstract. The actual drama of the film is effective due to the purposeful slowness of some of the pacing, scenes sometimes crawling from one to the next. Their run-times give you space to breathe in every detail, after which pieces start to come together.
I would dare say there's a sense of....melancholy? It's this haze that hovers over the whole of the movie, one definitely explored as some events go a bit downhill and as some characters are profoundly changed by their experiences with the visitors. It's these experiences that contain the heart of the film: the fact that the ability to communicate ideas is one of the most powerful tools we have as human beings.
Friday, October 7, 2016
A Few Thoughts on STRANGER THINGS, episode two
***This contains spoilers***
Oh boy...
This episode left me with more questions than answers. For starters, when did this major shift occur in Barb regarding Nancy's relationship with Steve? In the previous episode, she's all gung ho with the idea of the two dating, going so far as to essentially "mmhmm gurl" when Nancy found Steve's invitation to meet her in the bathroom. In this episode, she seems very against the idea of Nancy going to Steve's party, citing that "he just wants to get in her pants." Honestly, what did she think before? Secondly, was the decision to have the mystery beast that took Will also take Barb supposed to be some kind of subversion of the "final girl" trope? Barb would have been the "chaste" one in this situation considering that it was Nancy who seemed to want to engage in the illicit activity with Steve. So, according to the trope, Nancy would have been eaten before Barb. Obviously, I'll have to see how this plays out, but in the moment it seems bizarre.
Third, is Jonathan Byers crushing on Nancy? Is that the look he gave her after she talked to him in the hallway? Also, are we supposed to find it cute that he was taking pictures (while hidden in the woods) of Nancy and friends at Steve's party? Something tells me that this was the intent, but I assure you I read it as supremely creepy. Another also, why was he still there even after Nancy went back inside the house after falling in the pool? Was he waiting for her to come back out? Was he trying to photograph her through the window? A third also, the worst way to establish this kid loves photography is to show him snapping covert pictures of the girl we barely see him speak to. In fact, he doesn't really speak to anyone outside of his immediate family in the first hour or so of this series. That whole segment of the episode was so bizarre on so many levels, and I'm at a loss at what the Duffer's intended the audience to feel.
At this point, I'm starting to feel the weight of the influences of other films from the 80's on the show, and not in a good way. During the day, Mike plays hooky from school to look after Eleven. We can essentially call this section of the show "the E.T. part", because that's essentially what it is. It also confirmed something for me that I had suspicions of: I don't feel anything for Eleven. Now, that's not for lack of trying. I just haven't seen much in these first two hours to really attach me to her. The problem with doing what they do in this episode is that it's missing a few elements that E.T. had. In E.T., the titular character is a little, green, pot-bellied, pencil-necked alien with a face like the maggot-baby from ERASERHEAD. In short, he's weird looking. That goes a long way to adding humor to scenes where the kids try to give him clothes to disguise him or try to hid his presence. Simply put, a strange looking creature doing human-like things will have the appearance of being humorous.In the case of Eleven, her looking like a girl with a buzz-cut kind of takes the wind out of any humor hat could be drawn from the scene.
The E.T. moments also stretched into Eleven hiding in the closet and in the basement. The closet yielded a little bit more information about her past and relationship to the massive facility, but it also prompted more questions from me. For one, how much English does she know? In the flashback she seems to have more of a grasp on it, but in the present she has to be taught what a recliner is. If she knows more, is she choosing not to speak because she doesn't trust anyone, or does she honestly not know much of it? This isn't so much a problem, as much as it is a general question. If it turns out she knew a good bit of English, then having her go so long without talking would seem just a way to stretch for time.
The only major positive for me was when Will's mother, Joyce Byers, uncovers more about the mysterious phone calls she's been getting that she believes is, somehow, Will. In this moment, as she's seeing the lights flicker in a pattern that's leading her to Will's bedroom, it's one of the few times in the two hours of the show I've seen up to this point that doesn't have the characters catching up to information the audience already knows. It's something that I noticed in the first hour, but this second hour has almost doubled-down on it. I'm not against dramatic irony, but so much of this show is the audience finding out a good bit and then the rest of the characters finding out and hour or so later. I'm concerned that this is a trend that will continue through the whole of the season.
Another trend that concerns me pertains to the usage of the musical score.
Now, I know that S U R V I V E were seeking to emulate John Carpenter/Tangerine Dream, and the soundtrack is fine on its own, but some of the ways it's used in context strike me as odd. For example, in the aforementioned scene where Johnathan pines after Nancy in the hallway, a very ominous piece of music plays as he's shown exiting the building. The problem there is that music doesn't fit emotionally with what preceded it. In fact, I would go so far as to say that the music could have been removed and the scene would have largely played the same.
Overall, this was a pretty tough episode to get through. All this seems to not bode well for the rest of the series that, for some reason, I intend to keep watching. Here's hoping things improve.
Oh boy...
This episode left me with more questions than answers. For starters, when did this major shift occur in Barb regarding Nancy's relationship with Steve? In the previous episode, she's all gung ho with the idea of the two dating, going so far as to essentially "mmhmm gurl" when Nancy found Steve's invitation to meet her in the bathroom. In this episode, she seems very against the idea of Nancy going to Steve's party, citing that "he just wants to get in her pants." Honestly, what did she think before? Secondly, was the decision to have the mystery beast that took Will also take Barb supposed to be some kind of subversion of the "final girl" trope? Barb would have been the "chaste" one in this situation considering that it was Nancy who seemed to want to engage in the illicit activity with Steve. So, according to the trope, Nancy would have been eaten before Barb. Obviously, I'll have to see how this plays out, but in the moment it seems bizarre.
Third, is Jonathan Byers crushing on Nancy? Is that the look he gave her after she talked to him in the hallway? Also, are we supposed to find it cute that he was taking pictures (while hidden in the woods) of Nancy and friends at Steve's party? Something tells me that this was the intent, but I assure you I read it as supremely creepy. Another also, why was he still there even after Nancy went back inside the house after falling in the pool? Was he waiting for her to come back out? Was he trying to photograph her through the window? A third also, the worst way to establish this kid loves photography is to show him snapping covert pictures of the girl we barely see him speak to. In fact, he doesn't really speak to anyone outside of his immediate family in the first hour or so of this series. That whole segment of the episode was so bizarre on so many levels, and I'm at a loss at what the Duffer's intended the audience to feel.
At this point, I'm starting to feel the weight of the influences of other films from the 80's on the show, and not in a good way. During the day, Mike plays hooky from school to look after Eleven. We can essentially call this section of the show "the E.T. part", because that's essentially what it is. It also confirmed something for me that I had suspicions of: I don't feel anything for Eleven. Now, that's not for lack of trying. I just haven't seen much in these first two hours to really attach me to her. The problem with doing what they do in this episode is that it's missing a few elements that E.T. had. In E.T., the titular character is a little, green, pot-bellied, pencil-necked alien with a face like the maggot-baby from ERASERHEAD. In short, he's weird looking. That goes a long way to adding humor to scenes where the kids try to give him clothes to disguise him or try to hid his presence. Simply put, a strange looking creature doing human-like things will have the appearance of being humorous.In the case of Eleven, her looking like a girl with a buzz-cut kind of takes the wind out of any humor hat could be drawn from the scene.
The E.T. moments also stretched into Eleven hiding in the closet and in the basement. The closet yielded a little bit more information about her past and relationship to the massive facility, but it also prompted more questions from me. For one, how much English does she know? In the flashback she seems to have more of a grasp on it, but in the present she has to be taught what a recliner is. If she knows more, is she choosing not to speak because she doesn't trust anyone, or does she honestly not know much of it? This isn't so much a problem, as much as it is a general question. If it turns out she knew a good bit of English, then having her go so long without talking would seem just a way to stretch for time.
The only major positive for me was when Will's mother, Joyce Byers, uncovers more about the mysterious phone calls she's been getting that she believes is, somehow, Will. In this moment, as she's seeing the lights flicker in a pattern that's leading her to Will's bedroom, it's one of the few times in the two hours of the show I've seen up to this point that doesn't have the characters catching up to information the audience already knows. It's something that I noticed in the first hour, but this second hour has almost doubled-down on it. I'm not against dramatic irony, but so much of this show is the audience finding out a good bit and then the rest of the characters finding out and hour or so later. I'm concerned that this is a trend that will continue through the whole of the season.
Another trend that concerns me pertains to the usage of the musical score.
Now, I know that S U R V I V E were seeking to emulate John Carpenter/Tangerine Dream, and the soundtrack is fine on its own, but some of the ways it's used in context strike me as odd. For example, in the aforementioned scene where Johnathan pines after Nancy in the hallway, a very ominous piece of music plays as he's shown exiting the building. The problem there is that music doesn't fit emotionally with what preceded it. In fact, I would go so far as to say that the music could have been removed and the scene would have largely played the same.
Overall, this was a pretty tough episode to get through. All this seems to not bode well for the rest of the series that, for some reason, I intend to keep watching. Here's hoping things improve.
Wednesday, October 5, 2016
A Few Thoughts on STRANGER THINGS, episode one
***This contains some spoilers for this episode***
If there was one word to describe the first episode of the Duffer Brothers' STRANGER THINGS, it would be "pleasant." It's no more than that, and it's no less. Given it's nature as an ode to the 80's and its movies (Spielberg and Carpenter seem to be the focus in this first installment), it has all of the prerequisite elements: a John Carpenter-esque score (made by the brilliant duo, S U R V I V E.) as well as various decade-specific needle-drops; era specific font for title cards and for the intro; kids on bikes in a suburban setting; a soft filter that gives it an era specific look to the picture quality; "Spielberg Oners"; etc. Really, I could probably go on for a few more paragraphs listing the amount of either straight up references or nods to films from the 80's. This isn't inherently a bad thing, though it remains to be seen if this will continue on with diminishing returns.
The actual plotting of this episode feels quite nice, as nearly every character gets introduced and given their respective story lines in a fairly succinct manner. The only one that seemed to go nowhere belonged to Nancy Wheeler, older sister to the character Mike Wheeler. The episode took her from having just entered a new relationship, to her kissing her new boyfriend, and finally to them kissing some more. It doesn't go much further than that, and given how much more every other character gets, it's unfortunate.
As far as moments go, the one that stood out the most to me was the sequence introducing the four main characters as they play a game of Dungeons and Dragons. It really gives the sense that these characters are good friends, and it's a pretty tensely shot scene, as well. Also, the symmetry between this scene and the moment that Will Byers gets taken by what is practically the Demogorgon from their D&D session is really tight narrative in a way I can't help but be happy with. Also, I have to mention the one-take shot in the police station. It was very clean and understated.
I can't really say too much in the way of where this show is going, considering this is the first episode, but I do hope that things move beyond this merely "pleasant" feeling it's giving off. As much as I liked certain elements, I didn't really finish the episode with any anticipation of what's coming next. At any rate, I'll continue the series.
If there was one word to describe the first episode of the Duffer Brothers' STRANGER THINGS, it would be "pleasant." It's no more than that, and it's no less. Given it's nature as an ode to the 80's and its movies (Spielberg and Carpenter seem to be the focus in this first installment), it has all of the prerequisite elements: a John Carpenter-esque score (made by the brilliant duo, S U R V I V E.) as well as various decade-specific needle-drops; era specific font for title cards and for the intro; kids on bikes in a suburban setting; a soft filter that gives it an era specific look to the picture quality; "Spielberg Oners"; etc. Really, I could probably go on for a few more paragraphs listing the amount of either straight up references or nods to films from the 80's. This isn't inherently a bad thing, though it remains to be seen if this will continue on with diminishing returns.
The actual plotting of this episode feels quite nice, as nearly every character gets introduced and given their respective story lines in a fairly succinct manner. The only one that seemed to go nowhere belonged to Nancy Wheeler, older sister to the character Mike Wheeler. The episode took her from having just entered a new relationship, to her kissing her new boyfriend, and finally to them kissing some more. It doesn't go much further than that, and given how much more every other character gets, it's unfortunate.
As far as moments go, the one that stood out the most to me was the sequence introducing the four main characters as they play a game of Dungeons and Dragons. It really gives the sense that these characters are good friends, and it's a pretty tensely shot scene, as well. Also, the symmetry between this scene and the moment that Will Byers gets taken by what is practically the Demogorgon from their D&D session is really tight narrative in a way I can't help but be happy with. Also, I have to mention the one-take shot in the police station. It was very clean and understated.
I can't really say too much in the way of where this show is going, considering this is the first episode, but I do hope that things move beyond this merely "pleasant" feeling it's giving off. As much as I liked certain elements, I didn't really finish the episode with any anticipation of what's coming next. At any rate, I'll continue the series.
Monday, September 12, 2016
Mini Film Review: Hail Caesar
Like many other complex systems, filmmaking is made of many parts: directors, camerapeople, PA's, catering, makeup, wardrobe, actors, writers, etc. Each and every component is needed in order to make a film a reality is explored in the Coen Brothers' HAIL CAESAR, the chronicle of a day-in-the-life of studio "fixer" Eddie Mannix (Josh Brolin). Through his perspective we are taken on a guided tour of the annals of the Hollywood system, a la old Hollywood in the 40's.
One complaint some have put upon the film is that the multitude of strong performances are often too brief, contributing to the sense that the film fades from memory once over. I'm inclined to respectfully disagree. It's that very brevity that lines up with the theme of filmmaking being many parts working in unison. Ultimately, both in structure and theme, the film is a mystery exploring the dynamics of the myriad relationships within filmmaking, as well as the way people navigate the more unsavory aspects. Ultimately, Mannix is the personification of "suffering for the art" as he navigates the peaks and valleys of the industry, as he does what he does for the sake of cinema.
Brolin's natural mixture of hardiness and warmth add weight to the moments Mannix struggles to make sure the titular film, HAIL CAESAR, gets made, while also balances his work life with his curiously wholesome home life (his remarkably empathetic wife is played by a fantastic Allison Pill). Added to this is a temptation via Boeing for a lucrative job that may ultimately prove unfulfilling for a man like Mannix, a man who takes time to stop in to see early cuts of the films in production at various points throughout the film. He loves movies. He loves filmmaking. For all it's good and bad, it's where his heart lies, and one could ass8ume this could ultimately be said of the Coens.
Wednesday, August 10, 2016
Mini Film Review: Nerve
Ariel Schulman and Henry Joost's Nerve is a morality play with much higher aspirations than most. Adapted by Jessica Sharzer from the novel of the same name, by Jeanne Ryan, Nerve takes some of the conventions of modern social media and frames them in a way that is both thoughtful but incredibly accessible. This thoughtfulness is spent following Vee (Emma Roberts), a high school senior who is deep in her shell. Thanks to some provocation and embarrassment by her friend, Sydney (Emily Meade), Vee finds herself impulsively signing up to play NERVE, a sort of digital truth-or-dare. In the course of playing this, she meets Ian (Dave Franco), a motorcycle-riding Casanova with a mysterious past. Together, the two embark on increasingly dangerous dares, all the while getting to the dark heart of the game.
It would have been incredibly easy to make this movie a paint-by-numbers, lowest-common-denominator piece of cinema. To be fair, it comes a little close to that. Thankfully, it manages to hew just of bland into pure transcendent schlock. The city of New York is painted in neons and broad splotches of color, which pop out during the tightly cut action sequences. There are all the physical artifacts of internet and social media on the literal edges, many scenes being seen through a computer screen or a cell phone. The corners of the app for NERVE has displays for comments and how many viewers each player has. Each of these elements works to further ground this movie into our world. Even more, as the film progresses, we see how different people respond to the game, mirroring our own experiences online.
Anonymity, and the distance of the internet, can make us far more monstrous online than we are in person. Nerve sets out to, through the guise of an of-the-moment thriller, explore that capacity for ugliness we have within us. The only slight I really have is that it pulls its punches at the end, where it expands out into a Hunger Games-esque kind of dystopian vision. A plan is set into motion, and while its end result is fulfilling, a large part of me wanted it to be a bit uglier and to go much further than it did. At the end of the day, this is a remarkably sharp, incredibly competent film that manages to be deeply of-the-now while not talking down to the, likely, young audience.
A Few Thoughts on "Taking a Film for What It Is"
On the recently raised subject of "taking a film for what it is", I often wonder how those who say such a thing think about films. How do they examine them after the fact, thinking back on what they saw? In the process of exploring this, I usually have the following series of thoughts:
- What are [INSERT FILM]'s themes?
- How does it go about exploring those themes?
- Did they consider the fact that movies even have themes?
- What do they think "taking a film seriously" looks like?
- Do they think "taking a film seriously" resembles a bunch of stuffy, turtleneck-wearing intellectuals with notepads writing endlessly verbose screeds against some populist piece of media?
- Do they think it is a focus only on the technical aspects of a film and not on the emotional impact?
- Are they not aware of the fact that it's possible to focus on both aspects?
- Are they also not aware of the fact that, in the act of watching a film, they are doing that very thing?
- Are they unaware of the fact that those technical aspects actively affect the emotional impact the film has upon them?
- Are they able to even identify those technical elements?
- What do they think having "a good time" at the cinema looks like?
- Are they aware of the fact that the majority of critics become critics because they love movies so much and want to talk about them and champion them?
I am aware of the fact that this may have come off as a bit elitist, but these are important questions to ask or consider when you watch a movie. I don't want to seem as though I'm telling anyone the "right" way to watch movies, but when someone says that they "take the film for what it is" I'm inclined to wonder how they got to the conclusion of "what the film is."
Friday, June 17, 2016
Nathan Drake's Ludonarrative Nightmare
Here's a question I had after completing my trek through Naughty Dog's Uncharted 2: Who is Nathan Drake? I don't mean in general, as the "back-of-the-box" description would say he a roguish sort who explores ancient locales in order to recover rare artifacts or treasures for sale. What I mean is the deeper tissue aspects of who he is, particularly as to how that intersects with the actual gameplay. Having gone through a couple of the Uncharted games, I can say that this seems to feel like a reoccurring problem, one where the actual moments of player agency seem tonally at odds with the more traditional narrative moments (cutscenes, cinematics, etc.).
For example, there are many moments where two characters will exchange a series of quips and expository dialogue much more in line with something Indiana Jones would say, then engage in an armed conflict with a dozen or so enemies at a time. Nathan Drake doesn't just shoot back, he annihilates these people in a variety of ways: grenades, automatic gunfire, snapped necks, throwing them off of cliffs, and much more. Dialogue-wise, it hews much more to Indy, but it's more towards the film Commando with regards to gameplay.
All of that is really indicative of the fact that the Uncharted franchise wants you to feel as though they've dropped you in a summer blockbuster film, much like the Call of Duty franchise has done for the past few years. I don't see that motivation as a negative, yet I'm inclined to have an issue with the execution. Let it be known that I actually had a very good time with Uncharted 2, and thought that what character was there was charming, as well as finding some moments genuinely exciting. Even so, it's those tonal inconsistencies that cast a shadow over the whole of the game.
A name has been given to this specific fault: Ludonarrative Dissonance. It's when the moments of player agency (gameplay) fail to align to the tone of the more traditional narrative moments (cutscenes). Take, for example, the game Grand Theft Auto 5. If I was playing as the character Franklyn and I randomly mowed down a group of people walking down the street, that would be out of character with that we're given of who he is. Yet, I can do so and wait long enough for police to leave me be, then it's as though I never did anything. It seems that so much of the game is catered around empowering the player to do what they want in gameplay, that it shoots itself in the foot narratively and dramatically. If I'm to be more honest, most games have this problem.
What's a person to do? On the one hand, in the moment, it feels pretty good to be able to defeat hundreds of folks shooting at you and then to have your character spout some witty one-liner. On the other hand, when it doesn't fit that character's characterization it brings everything down a bit. It almost makes me wonder if the whole of game development has been mostly focused towards indulging the player's desires for empowerment. That would explain why so many games focus on making you feel as powerful as possible. I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing, but it happens so much that it's no wonder that there are still so many who see the medium as immature.
That being said, I think there are some good examples out there. One such game is actually made by the same developers of Uncharted 2: The Last of Us. It's a critical darling that takes place in a post-apocalyptic United States overrun by a plague of the undead. In this game, the player is brought into the desperate mindset of the protagonists, Joel and Ellie, via the cinematic affectations of the cutscenes as well as through the gameplay. That level of tonal and emotional unity is achieved by forcing the player to make a series of difficult choices. Say you want to make some sort of gun with the parts you've scrapped. Well, sorry, but to do that you have to use a resource that may be needed to make certain traps that are useful against particular enemies. Even more, the game goes on as you're in this menu, meaning that you can be ambushed whilst trying to craft a new tool. It forces one to think critically about what you need, while also being on the lookout for danger, much like what Joel and Ellie have to do. Even more, Joel isn't a killing machine. It takes time to make it past a group and often may require you to play it quietly with stealth. Through this, there is a strengthened backbone behind its themes of desperation and the limits of empathy.
Does that all mean that I think the Uncharted series would have been better with less gunplay and more of a focus on self-preservation? Maybe, especially considering the fact that Nathan Drake is essentially Indiana Jones. What if the best way to play was finding a way to not engage in combat with the various, elite, bloodthirsty mercenaries and to make it past them? What if Nathan could use his copious wits to figure out a way through this? Sure, he could still engage in some gunplay, but the player really would have to work for it. Maybe my tastes don't totally align with Uncharted's bigger audience, but popularity is not indicative of quality. Sure, the Uncharted franchise is fun, but that doesn't mean that the storytelling has to aspire to be merely good.
For example, there are many moments where two characters will exchange a series of quips and expository dialogue much more in line with something Indiana Jones would say, then engage in an armed conflict with a dozen or so enemies at a time. Nathan Drake doesn't just shoot back, he annihilates these people in a variety of ways: grenades, automatic gunfire, snapped necks, throwing them off of cliffs, and much more. Dialogue-wise, it hews much more to Indy, but it's more towards the film Commando with regards to gameplay.
All of that is really indicative of the fact that the Uncharted franchise wants you to feel as though they've dropped you in a summer blockbuster film, much like the Call of Duty franchise has done for the past few years. I don't see that motivation as a negative, yet I'm inclined to have an issue with the execution. Let it be known that I actually had a very good time with Uncharted 2, and thought that what character was there was charming, as well as finding some moments genuinely exciting. Even so, it's those tonal inconsistencies that cast a shadow over the whole of the game.
A name has been given to this specific fault: Ludonarrative Dissonance. It's when the moments of player agency (gameplay) fail to align to the tone of the more traditional narrative moments (cutscenes). Take, for example, the game Grand Theft Auto 5. If I was playing as the character Franklyn and I randomly mowed down a group of people walking down the street, that would be out of character with that we're given of who he is. Yet, I can do so and wait long enough for police to leave me be, then it's as though I never did anything. It seems that so much of the game is catered around empowering the player to do what they want in gameplay, that it shoots itself in the foot narratively and dramatically. If I'm to be more honest, most games have this problem.
What's a person to do? On the one hand, in the moment, it feels pretty good to be able to defeat hundreds of folks shooting at you and then to have your character spout some witty one-liner. On the other hand, when it doesn't fit that character's characterization it brings everything down a bit. It almost makes me wonder if the whole of game development has been mostly focused towards indulging the player's desires for empowerment. That would explain why so many games focus on making you feel as powerful as possible. I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing, but it happens so much that it's no wonder that there are still so many who see the medium as immature.
That being said, I think there are some good examples out there. One such game is actually made by the same developers of Uncharted 2: The Last of Us. It's a critical darling that takes place in a post-apocalyptic United States overrun by a plague of the undead. In this game, the player is brought into the desperate mindset of the protagonists, Joel and Ellie, via the cinematic affectations of the cutscenes as well as through the gameplay. That level of tonal and emotional unity is achieved by forcing the player to make a series of difficult choices. Say you want to make some sort of gun with the parts you've scrapped. Well, sorry, but to do that you have to use a resource that may be needed to make certain traps that are useful against particular enemies. Even more, the game goes on as you're in this menu, meaning that you can be ambushed whilst trying to craft a new tool. It forces one to think critically about what you need, while also being on the lookout for danger, much like what Joel and Ellie have to do. Even more, Joel isn't a killing machine. It takes time to make it past a group and often may require you to play it quietly with stealth. Through this, there is a strengthened backbone behind its themes of desperation and the limits of empathy.
Does that all mean that I think the Uncharted series would have been better with less gunplay and more of a focus on self-preservation? Maybe, especially considering the fact that Nathan Drake is essentially Indiana Jones. What if the best way to play was finding a way to not engage in combat with the various, elite, bloodthirsty mercenaries and to make it past them? What if Nathan could use his copious wits to figure out a way through this? Sure, he could still engage in some gunplay, but the player really would have to work for it. Maybe my tastes don't totally align with Uncharted's bigger audience, but popularity is not indicative of quality. Sure, the Uncharted franchise is fun, but that doesn't mean that the storytelling has to aspire to be merely good.
Monday, May 30, 2016
Mini Movie Review: RIDE ALONG 2
There's a moment at the end of Ride Along 2 where Oliva Munn's character, Detective Maya Cruz, is staring at Ice Cube and Kevin Hart (as James Payton and Ben Barber, respectively) as they argue over who's going to drive the brand new sports car they just acquired. She shows an interesting procession of emotions on her face as this transpires: humor, bewilderment, concern, and then a settled-upon sense of mediocrity. That pretty much sums up my take on this film, one of some minor entertainment that is largely devoid of value.
For what it's worth, Tim Story does direct some clear looking action sequences with a solid sense of geography. That has value. Unfortunately, the rest of the film is on on-par with a mid-level, 80's to 90's era, direct-to-tv cop drama. That's a shame, considering the fact that both Ice Cube and Kevin Hart are capable of more (I mean, Ice Cube was in 21/22 Jump Street, both of which are clever riffs off of those same direct-to-tv cop dramas).
That being said, I think there are interesting things within the film. Hart's character has the arc of the baffoon who seeks to prove himself, with Cube's James Payton slowly recognizing that Barber has some value, despite his foolishness. With this is an interesting juxtaposition of Hart's somewhat non-traditional masculinity and Cube's hyper-gruff version, almost as though it's saying there's room for both. Even more, part of me wanted to see this near-savant side explored a bit more, but it's too often disregarded for more overstated gags.
It comes down to a mismanagement of resources, or at the very least it feels that way. Hart does what he often does, which is to be far too much for what's needed of him. Jokes stretch on too long and continuously depreciate in value. Those interesting thematic elements are rarely explored. Everything is mostly painted in broad brushes. All of the more intriguing elements are buried under all of this. Mediocrity, thy name is Ride Along 2.
For what it's worth, Tim Story does direct some clear looking action sequences with a solid sense of geography. That has value. Unfortunately, the rest of the film is on on-par with a mid-level, 80's to 90's era, direct-to-tv cop drama. That's a shame, considering the fact that both Ice Cube and Kevin Hart are capable of more (I mean, Ice Cube was in 21/22 Jump Street, both of which are clever riffs off of those same direct-to-tv cop dramas).
That being said, I think there are interesting things within the film. Hart's character has the arc of the baffoon who seeks to prove himself, with Cube's James Payton slowly recognizing that Barber has some value, despite his foolishness. With this is an interesting juxtaposition of Hart's somewhat non-traditional masculinity and Cube's hyper-gruff version, almost as though it's saying there's room for both. Even more, part of me wanted to see this near-savant side explored a bit more, but it's too often disregarded for more overstated gags.
It comes down to a mismanagement of resources, or at the very least it feels that way. Hart does what he often does, which is to be far too much for what's needed of him. Jokes stretch on too long and continuously depreciate in value. Those interesting thematic elements are rarely explored. Everything is mostly painted in broad brushes. All of the more intriguing elements are buried under all of this. Mediocrity, thy name is Ride Along 2.
Sunday, May 22, 2016
Video Game Review: Guacamelee
One lesson that I wish more modern video game developers would learn (especially those who design "retro" styled games) is the value of efficiency of game design. By that, I mean containing only as much as you need to get your point across as well as you can. These games tend to look back and emulate the good of what came before, while also finding elements of the present to amplify those things. A few games that come to mind that fit this description include Shovel Knight, Undertale, Random Access Memories, Wolfenstein: The New Order, and Dark Souls. To that same list, we can now add Guacamelee, and what an entry it is.
Guacamelee puts us in the shoes of a burly farmer named Juan Aguacate who grows agave in his small, Mexican village. His humble life is torn asunder with both the return, and subsequent kidnapping, of the daughter of the president by the undead charro skeleton Carlos Calaca. To make things worse, Calaca then kills Juan, which sends him to the underworld. It's there that he meets an undead, female luchador, Tostada, that gifts him with a mask that changes him into a powerful luchador and sends him back to the land of the living. This places Juan in the position of being the only person powerful enough to take on Calaca before he sacrifices the president's daughter in an ancient ritual in order to ascend to godhood.
DrinkBox Studios was gracious enough to give Juan a wide array of abilities to achieve this task, and all of them arranged around dealing out as much pain as possible to the hordes of undead minions Calaca puts in his path. Combat is most similar to what one would find in beat-em-ups like God of War, or even Double Dragon. A series of combos can be done in succession, leading to a throw that sends enemies in whichever direction you choose. These throws, a few other moves, and a variety of upgrades to Juan's stats can be purchased from the myriad checkpoints (in the shape of ofrendas, no less) dotting the world. As far as navigation is concerned, Juan can leap with the best of them, lending to comparisons to the joyful jumps of the Mario Bros. franchise.
Let's talk about the luchador-loving world of Guacamelee for a moment, shall we? DrinkBox Studios crafted a world exploding with personality that is at once gorgeous, yet adorable. There are a number of opportunities for exploration of the various jungles, temples, fishing villages, and deserts. Even more, these opportunities often reward you, resulting in next to no moments of disappointment from going off the beaten path. A big part of this world are actually the people living in it, as speaking to them can yield new opportunities for exploration and upgrades, as well as subtle ways of fleshing out background bits of the narrative.
The majority of the game is based around the Dia de Muertos, or Day of the Dead. as everything Juan does is related to it in some way. His entire quest is to keep Carlos Calaca from causing disharmony between the lands of the living and dead, and requires him to pay heed to both groups. In essence, this game makes literal the symbolism of Dia de Muertos. The player, along with Juan, goes through the act of actively working with the living and dead, sometimes going in-between the two worlds in order to bring closure to people in both.
At its core, Guacamelee is a distillation of the various cultural influences present in Mexico, whether in the ancient, Aztec-like temples that lay in the jungles (many of which contain Super Metroid-like upgrades in "Choozo" statues shaped vaguely like ancient deities), or the villages with a variety of churches, restaurants, and gyms for luchador training. Even the monsters are seemingly inspired by the art of native Mexican peoples, and not once does it seem to be mindlessly appropriating any of the iconography. In essence, it's outstandingly competent on all accounts, and that just at the least.
Guacamelee puts us in the shoes of a burly farmer named Juan Aguacate who grows agave in his small, Mexican village. His humble life is torn asunder with both the return, and subsequent kidnapping, of the daughter of the president by the undead charro skeleton Carlos Calaca. To make things worse, Calaca then kills Juan, which sends him to the underworld. It's there that he meets an undead, female luchador, Tostada, that gifts him with a mask that changes him into a powerful luchador and sends him back to the land of the living. This places Juan in the position of being the only person powerful enough to take on Calaca before he sacrifices the president's daughter in an ancient ritual in order to ascend to godhood.
DrinkBox Studios was gracious enough to give Juan a wide array of abilities to achieve this task, and all of them arranged around dealing out as much pain as possible to the hordes of undead minions Calaca puts in his path. Combat is most similar to what one would find in beat-em-ups like God of War, or even Double Dragon. A series of combos can be done in succession, leading to a throw that sends enemies in whichever direction you choose. These throws, a few other moves, and a variety of upgrades to Juan's stats can be purchased from the myriad checkpoints (in the shape of ofrendas, no less) dotting the world. As far as navigation is concerned, Juan can leap with the best of them, lending to comparisons to the joyful jumps of the Mario Bros. franchise.
Let's talk about the luchador-loving world of Guacamelee for a moment, shall we? DrinkBox Studios crafted a world exploding with personality that is at once gorgeous, yet adorable. There are a number of opportunities for exploration of the various jungles, temples, fishing villages, and deserts. Even more, these opportunities often reward you, resulting in next to no moments of disappointment from going off the beaten path. A big part of this world are actually the people living in it, as speaking to them can yield new opportunities for exploration and upgrades, as well as subtle ways of fleshing out background bits of the narrative.
The majority of the game is based around the Dia de Muertos, or Day of the Dead. as everything Juan does is related to it in some way. His entire quest is to keep Carlos Calaca from causing disharmony between the lands of the living and dead, and requires him to pay heed to both groups. In essence, this game makes literal the symbolism of Dia de Muertos. The player, along with Juan, goes through the act of actively working with the living and dead, sometimes going in-between the two worlds in order to bring closure to people in both.
At its core, Guacamelee is a distillation of the various cultural influences present in Mexico, whether in the ancient, Aztec-like temples that lay in the jungles (many of which contain Super Metroid-like upgrades in "Choozo" statues shaped vaguely like ancient deities), or the villages with a variety of churches, restaurants, and gyms for luchador training. Even the monsters are seemingly inspired by the art of native Mexican peoples, and not once does it seem to be mindlessly appropriating any of the iconography. In essence, it's outstandingly competent on all accounts, and that just at the least.
Wednesday, May 11, 2016
What's Appropriate?
As I learn more about cultural appropriation, the thing I realize is that if one is going to apply it, one should go all the way with their application. That's to say that if you are tangentially related to the people an act is being appropriated from, but aren't actually from that culture, you may be culturally appropriating their work if you do it. Here's a few thought experiments I've run on it.
So, let's take an easy scenario. Let's say there's a very specific Native American tribe that has a very specific kind of headdress for very specific purposes. Now, let's say some outside person sees this headdress, likes the aesthetics of it, then proceeds to imitate it and sell the imitations to a bunch of people. Is that cultural appropriation? I'd say so. Now, what if the person wasn't from the outside, but from that very tribe? What if this person took their very people's religious imagery and sold it to the masses? Is this cultural appropriation? Are they making many other people complicit in cultural appropriation?
This can get even more complicated. Imagine we have a person whose great-grandparents came from a very specific village from somewhere in the South Pacific. Now, this very specific village has very specific customs and dress. If this particular person, who has been 100% enveloped into the culture of the United States and had no desire to better learn about their great-grandparent's culture, were to wear around that particular culture's dress not as a nod to that culture, but just because they thought they looked good, would that be cultural appropriation? I'm thinking yes, but mainly due to the fact that the person has nothing to do with that culture, even though they are of the same ethnicity. It's that cultural specificity that makes the difference, it seems.
So, let's take this to a...controversial real-world example. Let's take twerking. It's origins as a dance are a bit uncertain. Some believe it may be derived from the Mapouka, a traditional dance from the Dabou area of the southeast region of Cote d'lvoire that originated with the Alladian, Aizi, and Avikam people. Some also call it the "dance of the behind." It's mostly performed by women who stand facing away from the audience while shaking their behinds, sometimes while bent over. It should be noted that in its origin the dance was not sexual in nature, but the newer version has drawn some controversy. It's this modern version that is most closely related to twerking, and was even rendered as lewd from some time by the Ivorian government from the 1980's up until the year 2000. Even so, this version spread throughout countries along coastal West Africa. Some other people attribute it to a dance called The Bump. This was mostly done in the 1970's, as possibly popularized by by a guy named Johnny Spruce. In this dance, the dancers would bump hips on every other beat of the music. The dance progressed over the years and people started bumping hips to butts, bumping and bending over, and so on. There's even some that suggest that the term was originated in New Orleans with the rise of bounce music. At any rate, since the 1990's, the dance found its way into hip hop, and then the world. It even entered the Oxford dictionary, which claims that the word has been around for nearly 20 years.
So, now that we have some background info out of the way, let's get to the thought experiment. We know that it's origins may most likely be African in nature, and from a very specific place there. So, if a person in the United States does this dance, having absolutely no relation to its African origins, is that cultural appropriation? Let's go a step further. If a black person who lives in the United States, who has never been to this part of Africa, does this dance is it cultural appropriation? In both cases, the cultures of the latest people dancing to it are completely removed from their original context. What if the person doing the dance is descended directly from people from that region, but never traveled there and grew up totally immersed in the culture of the United States? I'm gonna still go with yes. Again, cultural specificity matters.
What's really important to consider in all of this is the power of globalization. Ideas and customs spread so quickly thanks to the internet that it's difficult to keep practices and beliefs contained to where they originated. This ultimately creates an environment where a culture's religious clothing or traditions can be somewhat co-opted by another, more affluent, culture. The new iteration becomes completely devoid of the original's intent, thus serving as a bastardized version. The thing is, much of our culture is made of aspects and influences of other cultures. Just look at some of the words that we say, like gumbo (Bantu, Africa), bacon (Germanic), jungle (Hindi or Urdu), or julep (Arabic). Many of the words we consider as being English are from other countries and cultures. Are we all subject to appropriation? Can OUR culture be appropriated?
To be honest, I don't know the answer to that. This is, as you've seen, a pretty complicated subject. It's a discussion that's being had online more and more, so more are becoming aware of it. With that, I think it's important to consider what we do and how we do it. That being said, 50 years from now, whole cultures may be absorbed in to less homogenized societies. Given that the United States is a country of many different cultures, with states sometimes seeming like completely separate countries that interact with each other, I'd imagine that it'd be difficult to keep different cultures from mixing in. At that, I suppose the best we can do is attempt to be as respectful as we can to what people believe and practice. All the same, this is an issue that may not be leaving any time soon
So, let's take an easy scenario. Let's say there's a very specific Native American tribe that has a very specific kind of headdress for very specific purposes. Now, let's say some outside person sees this headdress, likes the aesthetics of it, then proceeds to imitate it and sell the imitations to a bunch of people. Is that cultural appropriation? I'd say so. Now, what if the person wasn't from the outside, but from that very tribe? What if this person took their very people's religious imagery and sold it to the masses? Is this cultural appropriation? Are they making many other people complicit in cultural appropriation?
This can get even more complicated. Imagine we have a person whose great-grandparents came from a very specific village from somewhere in the South Pacific. Now, this very specific village has very specific customs and dress. If this particular person, who has been 100% enveloped into the culture of the United States and had no desire to better learn about their great-grandparent's culture, were to wear around that particular culture's dress not as a nod to that culture, but just because they thought they looked good, would that be cultural appropriation? I'm thinking yes, but mainly due to the fact that the person has nothing to do with that culture, even though they are of the same ethnicity. It's that cultural specificity that makes the difference, it seems.
So, let's take this to a...controversial real-world example. Let's take twerking. It's origins as a dance are a bit uncertain. Some believe it may be derived from the Mapouka, a traditional dance from the Dabou area of the southeast region of Cote d'lvoire that originated with the Alladian, Aizi, and Avikam people. Some also call it the "dance of the behind." It's mostly performed by women who stand facing away from the audience while shaking their behinds, sometimes while bent over. It should be noted that in its origin the dance was not sexual in nature, but the newer version has drawn some controversy. It's this modern version that is most closely related to twerking, and was even rendered as lewd from some time by the Ivorian government from the 1980's up until the year 2000. Even so, this version spread throughout countries along coastal West Africa. Some other people attribute it to a dance called The Bump. This was mostly done in the 1970's, as possibly popularized by by a guy named Johnny Spruce. In this dance, the dancers would bump hips on every other beat of the music. The dance progressed over the years and people started bumping hips to butts, bumping and bending over, and so on. There's even some that suggest that the term was originated in New Orleans with the rise of bounce music. At any rate, since the 1990's, the dance found its way into hip hop, and then the world. It even entered the Oxford dictionary, which claims that the word has been around for nearly 20 years.
So, now that we have some background info out of the way, let's get to the thought experiment. We know that it's origins may most likely be African in nature, and from a very specific place there. So, if a person in the United States does this dance, having absolutely no relation to its African origins, is that cultural appropriation? Let's go a step further. If a black person who lives in the United States, who has never been to this part of Africa, does this dance is it cultural appropriation? In both cases, the cultures of the latest people dancing to it are completely removed from their original context. What if the person doing the dance is descended directly from people from that region, but never traveled there and grew up totally immersed in the culture of the United States? I'm gonna still go with yes. Again, cultural specificity matters.
What's really important to consider in all of this is the power of globalization. Ideas and customs spread so quickly thanks to the internet that it's difficult to keep practices and beliefs contained to where they originated. This ultimately creates an environment where a culture's religious clothing or traditions can be somewhat co-opted by another, more affluent, culture. The new iteration becomes completely devoid of the original's intent, thus serving as a bastardized version. The thing is, much of our culture is made of aspects and influences of other cultures. Just look at some of the words that we say, like gumbo (Bantu, Africa), bacon (Germanic), jungle (Hindi or Urdu), or julep (Arabic). Many of the words we consider as being English are from other countries and cultures. Are we all subject to appropriation? Can OUR culture be appropriated?
To be honest, I don't know the answer to that. This is, as you've seen, a pretty complicated subject. It's a discussion that's being had online more and more, so more are becoming aware of it. With that, I think it's important to consider what we do and how we do it. That being said, 50 years from now, whole cultures may be absorbed in to less homogenized societies. Given that the United States is a country of many different cultures, with states sometimes seeming like completely separate countries that interact with each other, I'd imagine that it'd be difficult to keep different cultures from mixing in. At that, I suppose the best we can do is attempt to be as respectful as we can to what people believe and practice. All the same, this is an issue that may not be leaving any time soon
Thursday, April 7, 2016
A Look Back: MAN OF STEEL
In light of the less than stellar reviews of BATMAN V SUPERMAN: DAWN OF JUSTICE, I think now is a good a time as any to look back at the first entry in the newly minted DCCU (DC Cinematic Universe), MAN OF STEEL. Despite it's own less-than-good critical placement, I come not to bury MoS, but to take a look at what worked, and what didn't. It's my hope to dig out the good from underneath the fiery rubble of the bad, and was there ever a large amount of the latter.
So, let's get the basics out of the way. MoS is a movie whose strength lies in its aesthetics. To be honest, that's essentially Zach Snyder's forte. He always creates visually striking films, regardless of whether or not they have the narrative chops to go along with them. For a film about Superman (or rather, Zach Snyder's version of Superman...more on that in a moment) would be remiss not to have moment to show off both the power and deft of movement of the titular character. There's moment in particular that stands out.
That moment is Superman's first flight. It's here that Snyder achieves the best scene of the movie (and maybe of his career), and truly shows his legitimate chops with visual storytelling. So much effective empathy is being conveyed that just thinking of it makes me a bit upset that the rest of the film couldn't reach the same levels of sheer joy. In this scene, he exits a large Kryptonian spacecraft and begins to truly push his powers to find his limits. There are leaps, first. As they grow larger and larger, you can see his face go from strain to real glee. At one point he gets extraordinarily high and can seem to help but laugh, and hoot, and holler. IT WORKS. We're brought into that head space with him. Up to this point, it had been clearly shown that Kal was conflicted about who he was and where he belonged (more on that a little later), and in this moment we see him truly opening up and using his natural abilities. For the first time, he's not worried about holding back, and so he's more comfortable than he's ever been. You can see that on his face. The culmination of this is when he finally takes flight, after all his unsuccessful attempts. He pushes himself, going faster and higher, until he's in orbit around the Earth. It's here that his place is taken from the metaphorical to the literal. In that image we, and he, and truly see that he is not of this world, but he's far more ok with that.
Now, beyond the purely visual aspects, it's clear there's a strong narrative undercurrent to that scene. It works because of what came before it, and plays off of those things as a sort of culmination. Unfortunately, the rest of the movie doesn't possess that same level of competence in storytelling. In fact, these narrative inconsistencies (not nitpicks, but major narrative roadblocks) are so numerous that I'm inclined to just list them:
So, let's get the basics out of the way. MoS is a movie whose strength lies in its aesthetics. To be honest, that's essentially Zach Snyder's forte. He always creates visually striking films, regardless of whether or not they have the narrative chops to go along with them. For a film about Superman (or rather, Zach Snyder's version of Superman...more on that in a moment) would be remiss not to have moment to show off both the power and deft of movement of the titular character. There's moment in particular that stands out.
That moment is Superman's first flight. It's here that Snyder achieves the best scene of the movie (and maybe of his career), and truly shows his legitimate chops with visual storytelling. So much effective empathy is being conveyed that just thinking of it makes me a bit upset that the rest of the film couldn't reach the same levels of sheer joy. In this scene, he exits a large Kryptonian spacecraft and begins to truly push his powers to find his limits. There are leaps, first. As they grow larger and larger, you can see his face go from strain to real glee. At one point he gets extraordinarily high and can seem to help but laugh, and hoot, and holler. IT WORKS. We're brought into that head space with him. Up to this point, it had been clearly shown that Kal was conflicted about who he was and where he belonged (more on that a little later), and in this moment we see him truly opening up and using his natural abilities. For the first time, he's not worried about holding back, and so he's more comfortable than he's ever been. You can see that on his face. The culmination of this is when he finally takes flight, after all his unsuccessful attempts. He pushes himself, going faster and higher, until he's in orbit around the Earth. It's here that his place is taken from the metaphorical to the literal. In that image we, and he, and truly see that he is not of this world, but he's far more ok with that.
Now, beyond the purely visual aspects, it's clear there's a strong narrative undercurrent to that scene. It works because of what came before it, and plays off of those things as a sort of culmination. Unfortunately, the rest of the movie doesn't possess that same level of competence in storytelling. In fact, these narrative inconsistencies (not nitpicks, but major narrative roadblocks) are so numerous that I'm inclined to just list them:
- For nearly 2/3 of the movie, Superman makes a clear and honest effort to save people, whether they are kids on a bus, who some men on an oil rig, or some soldiers falling to their probable deaths. He even turns himself in to the Kryptonian forces that come for him, rather than the Earth be destroyed. So, most of this movie shows him to be this man who, regardless of the difficulty, will attempt to save and protect. Yet, during the biggest moment of the film, the siege upon the Earth by the Kryptonians, he seemingly goes against all of this. Rather than continuing to be who he was for the majority of the film, Superman decides to throw all caution to the wind and use the whole of the world around him to smash his foes. The major issue here is obviously the collateral damage, which runs counter to everything that is told of his character, up to that point.
- Tonally, Superman and Lois Lane kissing in the crater of much of Metropolis is extraordinarily tasteless. One could assume that hundreds, if not thousands, of people had died in a matter of moments. For the film to show us the massive scope of the destruction the Kryptonians dealt to the city, then to immediately have two of our leads have a completely unearned show of affection just seems to suggest that perhaps there was not as clear a vision on this as one would have hoped.
- It's a peculiarity that Clark's father tells him that he will one day use his abilities to help people, only to then much later question his desire to leave the farm, citing that their whole family had farmers for years. Did he change his mind at some point on Clark using his abilities to help at some point? Even more, this seems like a wasted chance at a strong motivation for Superman to save people. The loss of his father prompting him to always do what he can to help others. Of course, this isn't at all what we get.
- While Zod may be the antagonist in this film, his choice to terraform Earth to be more like Krypton and kill off all of humanity strike me as strange, given what we know of what happened to the Kryptonian colonies after Krypton's destruction: they all died out due to loss of resources. So, how exactly is Krypton supposed to rise again? There's no way to gather some of the same resources again. Zod speaks of going from outpost to outpost of the old Kryptonian colonies, but seeing they were dead from being cut off. Why do this plan at all?
Aside from these few massive ones, there are numerous smaller ones that jam up the production. Now, every film has some kinds of plot holes and contrivances. It's an inevitability due to the fact that we're only human. No matter how skilled a director, cinematographer, or editor you are, things will slip through the cracks. With MoS, we have something different. What we have is a product that is mostly focused on aesthetic and plot machinations. Really just the affectation of depth with none of the substance. It's ultimately that fact that brings down the whole of the film.
The Way Forward for Warner Brothers
So, I can understand WB's desire to be separate from Marvel. It makes sense. Obviously, they are different companies putting out different properties, so having some sort of factor that differentiates the two is crucial. However, there's a major issue with the way they're going about it. They seem more focused on the tone and aesthetic rather than the qualities of their characters.
Now, I'm no expert on screenwriting, filmmaking, or how to run a movie studio. I've only worked on small projects, and I have this here blog that I write on. That being said, it seems clear that WB has not an iota of an idea about what really clicks with audiences. In one article, WB's executives were stated as saying they thought that BvS could really perform well financially and critically. Yet, they were shocked at the fact that audiences and critics didn't adore it. So, they were a bit stuck. Luckily, there seems to be a sort of light at the end of the tunnel.
In light of fan reactions to the SUICIDE SQUAD trailer, reshoots began to beef up the humor and character moments, most of which were apparently in the first trailer. This, at least, shows that WB has some inclination that people want characters they can like, even if they find them somewhat morally bankrupt. It seems there's some truth to Ebert's statement that films are "empathy machines." Films that really connect are films that get you to care about its characters. Just look at the critical and commercial success of DEADPOOL, an R-rated "superhero" film filled graphic violence and language that really put a focus on character. As a result, people REALLY liked DEADPOOL.
While the expression "character is king" isn't a hard and fast rule for screenwriting, it isn't a bad what to go about the whole enterprise. Hopefully, WB will be more open to that mindset regarding their DC films. There's nothing wrong with having bleak stories and aesthetics, but without fully fleshed-out characters, you've just got a lot of artifice with no substance. It's the equivalent of a kid playing dress-up.
Now, I'm no expert on screenwriting, filmmaking, or how to run a movie studio. I've only worked on small projects, and I have this here blog that I write on. That being said, it seems clear that WB has not an iota of an idea about what really clicks with audiences. In one article, WB's executives were stated as saying they thought that BvS could really perform well financially and critically. Yet, they were shocked at the fact that audiences and critics didn't adore it. So, they were a bit stuck. Luckily, there seems to be a sort of light at the end of the tunnel.
In light of fan reactions to the SUICIDE SQUAD trailer, reshoots began to beef up the humor and character moments, most of which were apparently in the first trailer. This, at least, shows that WB has some inclination that people want characters they can like, even if they find them somewhat morally bankrupt. It seems there's some truth to Ebert's statement that films are "empathy machines." Films that really connect are films that get you to care about its characters. Just look at the critical and commercial success of DEADPOOL, an R-rated "superhero" film filled graphic violence and language that really put a focus on character. As a result, people REALLY liked DEADPOOL.
While the expression "character is king" isn't a hard and fast rule for screenwriting, it isn't a bad what to go about the whole enterprise. Hopefully, WB will be more open to that mindset regarding their DC films. There's nothing wrong with having bleak stories and aesthetics, but without fully fleshed-out characters, you've just got a lot of artifice with no substance. It's the equivalent of a kid playing dress-up.
Tuesday, April 5, 2016
Movie Review: BATMAN V SUPERMAN: DAWN OF JUSTICE
***THERE ARE SPOILERS IN THIS***
The most interesting aspect of big summer blockbusters is how they prompt a unique sort conversation on cinema. In the case of BATMAN V SUPERMAN: DAWN OF JUSTICE, that conversation has extended towards the basic mechanics of what makes a movie "work." Now, there's no real way to answer this without first remembering the subjective and ever expansive nature of art, though it contains a great deal of objectivity in the form of specific techniques, mechanics, and concepts. Basically, it's in one's best interest to keep an open mind with film and art. Different things will play in different ways to different people.
That's the mentality I took when approaching "BvS", one of sincere open-mindedness. Of course, I was aware of its less-than-stellar critical reception, but that didn't color my opinion of the film as I'm more than capable of forming one of my own. As it turned out, I didn't need the multitude of negative takes on the film to sway me, for the film earned it all on its own. It is, for lack of a better term, a mess. There's not one single thing that sinks the behemoth that is "BvS", but instead a menagerie: some small, some gargantuan.
Zach Snyder's latest takes place in a world 18 months forward from Superman's near-apocalyptic tussle with Micheal Shannon's General Zod. A battle which left quite a bit of collateral damage. It's this very collateral damage that fuels Ben Affleck's Bruce Wayne's anger and rage towards Superman, Also feeling this resentment is Jesse Eisenberg's Lex Luthor, and he devises a plot to have the two engage in combat to eliminate them both.
Now, here's the thing. That description certainly sounds straightforward. In fact, the basic elements actually are. Yet, the editing would lead you to believe otherwise. The totally disjointed first hour jumps from scene to scene with little-to-no regard for how they all fit together. There's no momentum, but instead plot points dropped into place in such a way that one would be forgiven for being unable to put them together in some sort of clear image. It's that lack of clarity that seems to have been carried over from Snyder's MAN OF STEEL, his first film with Henry Cavill's Superman.
Also carried over are some of the same issues with characterization present in Superman himself. Throughout "BvS" it seems we are meant to feel that this character is being unfairly disliked by the world, his character misjudged. A few scenes show him engaging in heroic acts: saving the crew of a rocket launch gone wrong; saving people from a burning building; rescuing people from a rooftop in the midst of a flood. He seems a savior, of sorts. Yet, in no moment during the film is it ever suggested that he wants to save anyone, excluding his girlfriend, Lois Lane, or mother, Martha Kent. In fact, the one moment in the film where Superman could explain his sullenness and his actions to the public (a hearing in Washington D.C. lead by a senator played by Holly Hunter, trying to breathe life into the film but being burned with the same terrible writing) he's stopped by an explosion that kills everyone in the building except for him. It's almost as though Zach Snyder, Chris Terrio, and David Goyer (the writers of this beast) decided it would be too hard to actually have one of their protagonists voice their motivations, so better to have everyone else do it instead. It's that very reluctance to character that drags down much of the film. There seems to be more of a concern with the iconography, either religious or in references to some of the defining/popular works of Batman and Superman, than actually filling characters with substance. What this does is create a character that is mostly unknowable to the audience which is a surefire way to not endear your viewers to them.
Thankfully, there is a light in this long, dark night. It's ironically in the hands of Batman. Ben Affleck's Batman feels, frankly like he's from an entirely different movie. One that doesn't yet exist, but is leagues better than "BvS". There is an actual sense of direction with his character, as his motivations are painfully obvious and his actions also flow from them. All of this is made better by Affleck's report with Jeremy Irons's Alfred, Bruce Wayne's faithful butler and technician. There's a real sense that they've been together for awhile, and so their playful ribbing comes off as sincere. Even more, The Batman has an unprecedented physical presence in the film. In one early appearance, he is discovered by police officers after beating down some human traffickers and, in his escape, looks as though he's some sort of demon soaring from corner to corner on the ceiling until he explodes out of the window. Even as the civilian persona, Bruce Wayne, Affleck pours in a healthy mixture of sleaze and charisma, especially with Gal Gadot's Diana Prince/Wonder Woman.*
Unfortunately, even the Caped Crusader isn't immune from Snyder's "gritty, grounded" touch. The same kinds of narrative and emotional shortcuts are present. At one point he attaches a tracking device to a truck containing kryptonite, seemingly in order to find out where it's going, then he proceeds to chase it with the Batmobile anyway, seemingly killing 95% of the people he was chasing. The real kicker is that he was going to steal the kryptonite off of the ship it came on, so why even attach the tracking device in the first place? There's an extended dream sequence (?) that shows what seems to be a possible future where Superman is ruling the Earth. Batman is a freedom fighter of some sort. This is never brought up again, and seems to only exist to introduce Darksied in the most obscure way possible. Even more, he proceeds to show Batman's origin yet again, as though it hasn't been shown before. This time, it's a shot-for-shot retelling of his parent's death from THE DARK KNIGHT RETURNS, Frank Miller's seminal work that Snyder scavenged for elements of this Batman. In fact, it's this act that results in one of the most asinine moments ever put to screen. In the climax of the titular fight, before stabbing Superman through the chest with a kryptonite-tipped spear (!), Superman cries out that they have to "Save Martha!" Who's Martha? Why that's Superman's mother, remember? Guess what Bruce's mother was named.
Martha.
This is treated as a revelation so shocking to Batman that he renigs his original 18 MONTH LONG plan and vendetta against Superman. All of the taunting and mild torture he just put him through, including insulting his mother (!!!) is thrown aside due to their mothers sharing the same name. It's so idiotic as to almost be brilliant in a they'll-never-expect-this sort of way.
Yet, somehow, Jesse Eisneberg's Lex Luthor manages to be the singularity at the center of this black hole of a movie. His character is a trainwreck of terrible writing and lack of any real motivation. I can honestly say that I don't really know who his character is or why he does what he does. He hates Superman. Ok. Because of the destruction he was part of. Ok. And because Lex hates God. Ok? And because he reminds him of his abusive father. Wait, what? And because Lex has "knowledge without power." Huh? This is the character we're given.
Amy Adams gives a good performance as Lois Lane but, once again, her character simply exists to give the half-cocked Superman a reason to do anything. Frankly, this whole business of taking great performers and giving them garbage writing is depressing. **
It's curious that this movie exists. The story of a rich and powerful man against a literal illegal alien, but in this case, the rich and powerful man is right to be sceptical of the alien. Is this what Zach Snyder intended with this film? Is it some sort of broken half-commentary on the times we live in? Doubtful. What it can be seen as is some of the absolute worst the pre/summer blockbuster season can offer. Draped and adorned with self-importance, but lacking the substance to make that a reality. The plot contrivances stretch and choke all life out of this picture, so entangled with the plotting and the characterizations that to pull on one thread threatens to unravel the whole thing.
I don't like writing this. In fact, it pains me to do so. Growing up with both Batman and Superman, I've seen them in a variety of styles and stories. In some, both have been actual Gods. In others, the scourges of the Earth. The point I'm making is that there exists a long, and rich history for both characters, so the fact that Snyder and Co. chose this path is downright bizarre. Critics have spoken. More and more audiences are speaking. It seems this film won't make as much as they hoped. Perhaps this will show them that what people want are characters that they can get to know, whether they are likable or not. Whether the mood is dark or light.
*Addendum 1: The fact that I hardly spoke about Wonder Woman is a representation of just how unimportant she was to this movie. She was, essentially, part of a trailer for their other films that was crudely worked into the whole of the picture.
**Addendum 2: At one point, Lois Lane says to a warlord she's attempting to interview "I'm not a lady. I'm a journalist." Garbage.
The most interesting aspect of big summer blockbusters is how they prompt a unique sort conversation on cinema. In the case of BATMAN V SUPERMAN: DAWN OF JUSTICE, that conversation has extended towards the basic mechanics of what makes a movie "work." Now, there's no real way to answer this without first remembering the subjective and ever expansive nature of art, though it contains a great deal of objectivity in the form of specific techniques, mechanics, and concepts. Basically, it's in one's best interest to keep an open mind with film and art. Different things will play in different ways to different people.
That's the mentality I took when approaching "BvS", one of sincere open-mindedness. Of course, I was aware of its less-than-stellar critical reception, but that didn't color my opinion of the film as I'm more than capable of forming one of my own. As it turned out, I didn't need the multitude of negative takes on the film to sway me, for the film earned it all on its own. It is, for lack of a better term, a mess. There's not one single thing that sinks the behemoth that is "BvS", but instead a menagerie: some small, some gargantuan.
Zach Snyder's latest takes place in a world 18 months forward from Superman's near-apocalyptic tussle with Micheal Shannon's General Zod. A battle which left quite a bit of collateral damage. It's this very collateral damage that fuels Ben Affleck's Bruce Wayne's anger and rage towards Superman, Also feeling this resentment is Jesse Eisenberg's Lex Luthor, and he devises a plot to have the two engage in combat to eliminate them both.
Now, here's the thing. That description certainly sounds straightforward. In fact, the basic elements actually are. Yet, the editing would lead you to believe otherwise. The totally disjointed first hour jumps from scene to scene with little-to-no regard for how they all fit together. There's no momentum, but instead plot points dropped into place in such a way that one would be forgiven for being unable to put them together in some sort of clear image. It's that lack of clarity that seems to have been carried over from Snyder's MAN OF STEEL, his first film with Henry Cavill's Superman.
Also carried over are some of the same issues with characterization present in Superman himself. Throughout "BvS" it seems we are meant to feel that this character is being unfairly disliked by the world, his character misjudged. A few scenes show him engaging in heroic acts: saving the crew of a rocket launch gone wrong; saving people from a burning building; rescuing people from a rooftop in the midst of a flood. He seems a savior, of sorts. Yet, in no moment during the film is it ever suggested that he wants to save anyone, excluding his girlfriend, Lois Lane, or mother, Martha Kent. In fact, the one moment in the film where Superman could explain his sullenness and his actions to the public (a hearing in Washington D.C. lead by a senator played by Holly Hunter, trying to breathe life into the film but being burned with the same terrible writing) he's stopped by an explosion that kills everyone in the building except for him. It's almost as though Zach Snyder, Chris Terrio, and David Goyer (the writers of this beast) decided it would be too hard to actually have one of their protagonists voice their motivations, so better to have everyone else do it instead. It's that very reluctance to character that drags down much of the film. There seems to be more of a concern with the iconography, either religious or in references to some of the defining/popular works of Batman and Superman, than actually filling characters with substance. What this does is create a character that is mostly unknowable to the audience which is a surefire way to not endear your viewers to them.
Thankfully, there is a light in this long, dark night. It's ironically in the hands of Batman. Ben Affleck's Batman feels, frankly like he's from an entirely different movie. One that doesn't yet exist, but is leagues better than "BvS". There is an actual sense of direction with his character, as his motivations are painfully obvious and his actions also flow from them. All of this is made better by Affleck's report with Jeremy Irons's Alfred, Bruce Wayne's faithful butler and technician. There's a real sense that they've been together for awhile, and so their playful ribbing comes off as sincere. Even more, The Batman has an unprecedented physical presence in the film. In one early appearance, he is discovered by police officers after beating down some human traffickers and, in his escape, looks as though he's some sort of demon soaring from corner to corner on the ceiling until he explodes out of the window. Even as the civilian persona, Bruce Wayne, Affleck pours in a healthy mixture of sleaze and charisma, especially with Gal Gadot's Diana Prince/Wonder Woman.*
Unfortunately, even the Caped Crusader isn't immune from Snyder's "gritty, grounded" touch. The same kinds of narrative and emotional shortcuts are present. At one point he attaches a tracking device to a truck containing kryptonite, seemingly in order to find out where it's going, then he proceeds to chase it with the Batmobile anyway, seemingly killing 95% of the people he was chasing. The real kicker is that he was going to steal the kryptonite off of the ship it came on, so why even attach the tracking device in the first place? There's an extended dream sequence (?) that shows what seems to be a possible future where Superman is ruling the Earth. Batman is a freedom fighter of some sort. This is never brought up again, and seems to only exist to introduce Darksied in the most obscure way possible. Even more, he proceeds to show Batman's origin yet again, as though it hasn't been shown before. This time, it's a shot-for-shot retelling of his parent's death from THE DARK KNIGHT RETURNS, Frank Miller's seminal work that Snyder scavenged for elements of this Batman. In fact, it's this act that results in one of the most asinine moments ever put to screen. In the climax of the titular fight, before stabbing Superman through the chest with a kryptonite-tipped spear (!), Superman cries out that they have to "Save Martha!" Who's Martha? Why that's Superman's mother, remember? Guess what Bruce's mother was named.
Martha.
This is treated as a revelation so shocking to Batman that he renigs his original 18 MONTH LONG plan and vendetta against Superman. All of the taunting and mild torture he just put him through, including insulting his mother (!!!) is thrown aside due to their mothers sharing the same name. It's so idiotic as to almost be brilliant in a they'll-never-expect-this sort of way.
Yet, somehow, Jesse Eisneberg's Lex Luthor manages to be the singularity at the center of this black hole of a movie. His character is a trainwreck of terrible writing and lack of any real motivation. I can honestly say that I don't really know who his character is or why he does what he does. He hates Superman. Ok. Because of the destruction he was part of. Ok. And because Lex hates God. Ok? And because he reminds him of his abusive father. Wait, what? And because Lex has "knowledge without power." Huh? This is the character we're given.
Amy Adams gives a good performance as Lois Lane but, once again, her character simply exists to give the half-cocked Superman a reason to do anything. Frankly, this whole business of taking great performers and giving them garbage writing is depressing. **
It's curious that this movie exists. The story of a rich and powerful man against a literal illegal alien, but in this case, the rich and powerful man is right to be sceptical of the alien. Is this what Zach Snyder intended with this film? Is it some sort of broken half-commentary on the times we live in? Doubtful. What it can be seen as is some of the absolute worst the pre/summer blockbuster season can offer. Draped and adorned with self-importance, but lacking the substance to make that a reality. The plot contrivances stretch and choke all life out of this picture, so entangled with the plotting and the characterizations that to pull on one thread threatens to unravel the whole thing.
I don't like writing this. In fact, it pains me to do so. Growing up with both Batman and Superman, I've seen them in a variety of styles and stories. In some, both have been actual Gods. In others, the scourges of the Earth. The point I'm making is that there exists a long, and rich history for both characters, so the fact that Snyder and Co. chose this path is downright bizarre. Critics have spoken. More and more audiences are speaking. It seems this film won't make as much as they hoped. Perhaps this will show them that what people want are characters that they can get to know, whether they are likable or not. Whether the mood is dark or light.
*Addendum 1: The fact that I hardly spoke about Wonder Woman is a representation of just how unimportant she was to this movie. She was, essentially, part of a trailer for their other films that was crudely worked into the whole of the picture.
**Addendum 2: At one point, Lois Lane says to a warlord she's attempting to interview "I'm not a lady. I'm a journalist." Garbage.
Saturday, February 6, 2016
Album Review: MIDNIGHT MEMORIES (One Direction)
One thing I've learned from maintaining this blog for a little over a year is that finding your voice isn't an "A-to-B-to-C" sort of process. Things tend to ebb and flow, and sometimes you can go forward by going a bit back. Through all of this, I've found that my style and voice continually shifts to different areas. That sort of evolution is natural as an artist grows, or at least it should be. This seems to have been the case with One Direction's third poppidy-pop-pop outing, Midnight Memories. With this one, they seem to have done a bit of looking back, particularly into a number of hair metal/arena rock bands from the 80's. Though, don't think that this is an especially heavy album. If anything, it's Bon Jovi-light.
Part of me is tempted to say this is an improvement. The introduction of "live" instruments can elevate the sense of perceived legitimacy to what a "band" does. You'll notice those scare quotes. You see, that's because those "live" instruments on the album are, for the most part, digital. Also, One Direction still isn't a band, but a group that sings. So, that perceived legitimacy isn't as great as I thought it was.
I'm of the opinion that this marked a change in voice and sound for One Direction, something more "mature", though it just sounds remarkably similar to what came before but with the sounds live instrumentation. The title track, "Midnight Memories", stands out as a most egregious example, sounding akin to a One Direction song that was written by Nickleback. It all comes off as disingenuous.
"Don't Forget Where You Belong" is an actual high point, a song that nods to the melancholy that can come from being far away from home. The lyrics are thoughtful and the harmonies and melodies work and resolve well, leaning more towards the Bon Jovie side. That, again, brings me to the one constant: One Direction are lads with fantastic voices. If only they would write more thoughtful, meaningful music. Then, they would actually be contributing something great.
As it stands, what they've (and by that I mean One Direction AND the small army of writers and producers) gifted us with are strong melodies that are both catchy and well-resolved. The problem with that is that MANY others also do that. It's not enough to be catchy. Art should say something, or should be about pushing one's limits. Perhaps, that's my own musical experience talking (I've played different percussion instruments and sang for about twelve years), and through all of that, it's been instilled in me to push myself to new and better places. I will tend to expect the same from multi-million-dollar-valued artists, and to be fair, One Direction did shift sounds...but only just. No matter the gilding upon Midnight Memories, it's more of the same. It's a net gain of zero.
Part of me is tempted to say this is an improvement. The introduction of "live" instruments can elevate the sense of perceived legitimacy to what a "band" does. You'll notice those scare quotes. You see, that's because those "live" instruments on the album are, for the most part, digital. Also, One Direction still isn't a band, but a group that sings. So, that perceived legitimacy isn't as great as I thought it was.
I'm of the opinion that this marked a change in voice and sound for One Direction, something more "mature", though it just sounds remarkably similar to what came before but with the sounds live instrumentation. The title track, "Midnight Memories", stands out as a most egregious example, sounding akin to a One Direction song that was written by Nickleback. It all comes off as disingenuous.
"Don't Forget Where You Belong" is an actual high point, a song that nods to the melancholy that can come from being far away from home. The lyrics are thoughtful and the harmonies and melodies work and resolve well, leaning more towards the Bon Jovie side. That, again, brings me to the one constant: One Direction are lads with fantastic voices. If only they would write more thoughtful, meaningful music. Then, they would actually be contributing something great.
As it stands, what they've (and by that I mean One Direction AND the small army of writers and producers) gifted us with are strong melodies that are both catchy and well-resolved. The problem with that is that MANY others also do that. It's not enough to be catchy. Art should say something, or should be about pushing one's limits. Perhaps, that's my own musical experience talking (I've played different percussion instruments and sang for about twelve years), and through all of that, it's been instilled in me to push myself to new and better places. I will tend to expect the same from multi-million-dollar-valued artists, and to be fair, One Direction did shift sounds...but only just. No matter the gilding upon Midnight Memories, it's more of the same. It's a net gain of zero.
Monday, February 1, 2016
Album Review: TAKE ME HOME (One Direction)
Artist: One Direction
Typically, as a band (or in this case, "band") releases a second album, there is a sense of progression. Growth is the goal, usually. Though, in the case of One Direction, the growth seems less dependent on the singers, and more upon the producers, songwriters, and handlers. At this point, it was more than a little obvious that the boys weren't writing their own music or lyrics.Yet, they remain consistent in their vocal quality. Unfortunately, this is the ONLY high point on the album.
Somehow, a regression seems to have occurred in the production Take Me Home, One Direction's sophomore outing as this decade's main troubadours of bubblegum poppery. As far as lyrical high points go, there are only two that really register above the bare minimum. "Heart Attack" is a staccatoed chronicle of the trials and tribulations of the "friendzone", while "Little Things" rises JUST above that as an ode to all the little things (geddit?) that the hypothetical, collective man that the group represents loves in his hypothetical, collective woman that the audience represents. It's ultimately in the same vein as "What Makes You Beautiful" and "Everything About You" off of their debut, Up All Night.
Again, they are vocally on point, and the melodies and harmonies are infectious, but they are lyrically running in place. In fact, much of this album feels somewhere closer to a mild reinterpretation of their previous album, but in the exactly the same style. Perhaps, this is to ensure consistency of sound and to maintain fan affections as they stand with perfectly crafted imagery onstage? This is reinforced by the "sampler" qualities of the album, possibly going for some sense of "timelessness", but instead, sounding like lesser versions of better things. After listening to the final track, I could only feel a bit let down. Perhaps, in another album, they may actually break free from the shackles of bubblegum-coated pop-rock, and strut into much more interesting places.
Typically, as a band (or in this case, "band") releases a second album, there is a sense of progression. Growth is the goal, usually. Though, in the case of One Direction, the growth seems less dependent on the singers, and more upon the producers, songwriters, and handlers. At this point, it was more than a little obvious that the boys weren't writing their own music or lyrics.Yet, they remain consistent in their vocal quality. Unfortunately, this is the ONLY high point on the album.
Somehow, a regression seems to have occurred in the production Take Me Home, One Direction's sophomore outing as this decade's main troubadours of bubblegum poppery. As far as lyrical high points go, there are only two that really register above the bare minimum. "Heart Attack" is a staccatoed chronicle of the trials and tribulations of the "friendzone", while "Little Things" rises JUST above that as an ode to all the little things (geddit?) that the hypothetical, collective man that the group represents loves in his hypothetical, collective woman that the audience represents. It's ultimately in the same vein as "What Makes You Beautiful" and "Everything About You" off of their debut, Up All Night.
Again, they are vocally on point, and the melodies and harmonies are infectious, but they are lyrically running in place. In fact, much of this album feels somewhere closer to a mild reinterpretation of their previous album, but in the exactly the same style. Perhaps, this is to ensure consistency of sound and to maintain fan affections as they stand with perfectly crafted imagery onstage? This is reinforced by the "sampler" qualities of the album, possibly going for some sense of "timelessness", but instead, sounding like lesser versions of better things. After listening to the final track, I could only feel a bit let down. Perhaps, in another album, they may actually break free from the shackles of bubblegum-coated pop-rock, and strut into much more interesting places.
Album Review: BUT YOU CAINT USE MY PHONE (Erykah Badu)
Artist: Erykah Badu
Erykah Badu and I clearly have similar taste in music, as the song she seems most inspired by for her latest mixtape, But You Caint Use My Phone, seems to be Drake's 2015 hit, "Hotline Bling." Yet, she moves beyond mere tribute and into a far more sophisticated realm of reinterpretation. Phones and communication is the name of the game for her latest, with every song revolving around the topic in some capacity. In fact, the first track, "Caint Use My Phone (Suite)" is made entirely of dial tones and rings, all crafted into an idea that's revisited various times throughout the album. Even more, "Hotline Bling" functions as a bit of an overture, with the song revisited over the span of the run time, and even covered in the track, "Cel U Lar Device."
Erykah's sultry voice adorns every syllable of every song with charm, and her lyrics impart leagues of wit ( "Dial'Afreaq" is composed of a fictional answering machine message made of jokes and references to the whole of the album). Not only a product of R&B and Hip Hop, But You Caint Use My Phone is a meta-textual dive into musical textures of a wide array of sounds. It's brilliant.
Erykah Badu and I clearly have similar taste in music, as the song she seems most inspired by for her latest mixtape, But You Caint Use My Phone, seems to be Drake's 2015 hit, "Hotline Bling." Yet, she moves beyond mere tribute and into a far more sophisticated realm of reinterpretation. Phones and communication is the name of the game for her latest, with every song revolving around the topic in some capacity. In fact, the first track, "Caint Use My Phone (Suite)" is made entirely of dial tones and rings, all crafted into an idea that's revisited various times throughout the album. Even more, "Hotline Bling" functions as a bit of an overture, with the song revisited over the span of the run time, and even covered in the track, "Cel U Lar Device."
Erykah's sultry voice adorns every syllable of every song with charm, and her lyrics impart leagues of wit ( "Dial'Afreaq" is composed of a fictional answering machine message made of jokes and references to the whole of the album). Not only a product of R&B and Hip Hop, But You Caint Use My Phone is a meta-textual dive into musical textures of a wide array of sounds. It's brilliant.
Album Review: BANNERS (Banners)
Artist: BANNERS
With a sound somewhere between early Coldplay and post-rock, BANNERS, AKA Micheal Joseph Nelson, has crafted a sound at once both pleasant and pedestrian. That's not to say it sounds bad, at all. Rather, its proximity to the sound of a Coldplay, or a Phillip Phillips, takes the wind out of his sails. A stand out track is his single, "Shine a Light." Building from smooth falsettos, a pounding, war-like, drum pattern leads into a solid folk-rock groove that may have inspired a rug or two to be cut whilst listening. All that being said, "Shine a Light" is THE high point. It's a good sound, but one that ultimately feels a dime-a-dozen with regards to the current music environment.
With a sound somewhere between early Coldplay and post-rock, BANNERS, AKA Micheal Joseph Nelson, has crafted a sound at once both pleasant and pedestrian. That's not to say it sounds bad, at all. Rather, its proximity to the sound of a Coldplay, or a Phillip Phillips, takes the wind out of his sails. A stand out track is his single, "Shine a Light." Building from smooth falsettos, a pounding, war-like, drum pattern leads into a solid folk-rock groove that may have inspired a rug or two to be cut whilst listening. All that being said, "Shine a Light" is THE high point. It's a good sound, but one that ultimately feels a dime-a-dozen with regards to the current music environment.
Monday, January 25, 2016
A Few Thoughts On: GAME OF THRONES, Season 1
Despite the show's success, I don't envy showrunners David Benioff and D.B. Weiss. They were tasked with taking the mass of interweaving character arcs and plot threads of A Game of Thrones, George R.R. Martin's tale of medieval-esque mishaps in Westeros, and somehow adapt it into a television series. While the source material is somewhat lengthy (694 pages), though not as lengthy as some later volumes in the series (A Feast for Crows is 1521 pages), Benioff and Weiss manage to craft a rather propulsive season of television. This may have been aided by the fact that they didn't pull only from the first book, but used bits and piece of character information from later in the series. This enabled them to have a great deal more freedom in crafting the best series they could.
As far as picking a favorite performance out of the season, who could I possibly pick? Would it be Sean Bean's Ned Stark, a man attempting some sense of honor in a dishonorable world? Or, would I pick Lena Headly's Cersei Lannister, who is both parts lizard-brained psychopath and tragic figure? Or what of Peter Dinklage's Tyrion Lannister, who is small in stature but large in intellect? I tell you, I couldn't pick one.
I'm fairly amazed that they were able to produce such a film-like quality, essentially raising the bar for all television production values. If I had to guess, I'd say that each episode must cost as much as a small film to produce, which is no small feat. All in all, it may have been one of my favorite seasons of television, ever.
As far as picking a favorite performance out of the season, who could I possibly pick? Would it be Sean Bean's Ned Stark, a man attempting some sense of honor in a dishonorable world? Or, would I pick Lena Headly's Cersei Lannister, who is both parts lizard-brained psychopath and tragic figure? Or what of Peter Dinklage's Tyrion Lannister, who is small in stature but large in intellect? I tell you, I couldn't pick one.
I'm fairly amazed that they were able to produce such a film-like quality, essentially raising the bar for all television production values. If I had to guess, I'd say that each episode must cost as much as a small film to produce, which is no small feat. All in all, it may have been one of my favorite seasons of television, ever.
Sunday, January 24, 2016
Album Review: UP ALL NIGHT (One Direction)
Artist: One Direction
So, I find myself in a bit of an odd position when it comes to voicing my opinion of One Direction's debut album, Up All Night. On the one hand, at this point Niall Horan, Liam Payne, Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson, and Zayn Malik are, without argument, guys with wonderful voices. There's not once on the album where I could say that they did not sound lovely. On the other hand, it's an immensely uninspired series of songs that they happen to be singing.
One can suppose the reason for this: since this is their first album since forming out of The X-Factor in 2010, the producers and managers/handlers wanted them to create something that was easily accessible for many. That would explain the "sampler plate" quality of Up All Night. It's as though it's an assortment of bits and pieces of other songs or artists. Sometimes, this quality leads to interesting things.
The Beatles-esque anthem "I Want" works as the strongest song on the album, with what seems to be a full band and a melody that nearly bounces around from side to side. It would be a wonder if that song didn't conjure up an on-tempo clap from the audience. The song "Taken" could be considered one I enjoy, if not for the fact that the instrumentation behind the vocals seems to think It's playing Tom Petty's "Free Falling." It leaves me to wonder, how much of One Direction is actually on One Direction's debut album? There seems to be this preoccupation with aping other styles (no pun intended), and perhaps this sort of thing got by the youth this was targeted towards. It's as though they were afraid to let the group display more of themselves, and to note, the actual members only have writing credits on two songs ( "Everything About You" "Same Mistakes").
It's all kind of a shame. These are five guys with fantastic voices who are given music that seems to want to continue in the tradition of the Boy Bands of past glories (your N'SYNC's or your Backstreet Boys) but lacks some of the personality. In fact, I can't tell you why there are even five members of this group. Not once on the album do they warrant that as so many of their voices are so similar that they became nearly indistinguishable. The one truly good thing about this album is that the producers and songwriters were able to craft some rather catchy melodies that have yet to leave me.
So, I find myself in a bit of an odd position when it comes to voicing my opinion of One Direction's debut album, Up All Night. On the one hand, at this point Niall Horan, Liam Payne, Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson, and Zayn Malik are, without argument, guys with wonderful voices. There's not once on the album where I could say that they did not sound lovely. On the other hand, it's an immensely uninspired series of songs that they happen to be singing.
One can suppose the reason for this: since this is their first album since forming out of The X-Factor in 2010, the producers and managers/handlers wanted them to create something that was easily accessible for many. That would explain the "sampler plate" quality of Up All Night. It's as though it's an assortment of bits and pieces of other songs or artists. Sometimes, this quality leads to interesting things.
The Beatles-esque anthem "I Want" works as the strongest song on the album, with what seems to be a full band and a melody that nearly bounces around from side to side. It would be a wonder if that song didn't conjure up an on-tempo clap from the audience. The song "Taken" could be considered one I enjoy, if not for the fact that the instrumentation behind the vocals seems to think It's playing Tom Petty's "Free Falling." It leaves me to wonder, how much of One Direction is actually on One Direction's debut album? There seems to be this preoccupation with aping other styles (no pun intended), and perhaps this sort of thing got by the youth this was targeted towards. It's as though they were afraid to let the group display more of themselves, and to note, the actual members only have writing credits on two songs ( "Everything About You" "Same Mistakes").
It's all kind of a shame. These are five guys with fantastic voices who are given music that seems to want to continue in the tradition of the Boy Bands of past glories (your N'SYNC's or your Backstreet Boys) but lacks some of the personality. In fact, I can't tell you why there are even five members of this group. Not once on the album do they warrant that as so many of their voices are so similar that they became nearly indistinguishable. The one truly good thing about this album is that the producers and songwriters were able to craft some rather catchy melodies that have yet to leave me.
Monday, January 18, 2016
My Favorite Concerts: Daikaiju at the Thirsty Hippo in Hattiesburg, MS
(RECOMMENDED LISTENING WHILE READING THIS: "Phase Two" by Daikaiju)
So, I didn't expect the night to go as it did. I mean, clearly this band was bound to be... interesting. Their photo on the concert's Facebook page, a motley collection of shirtless lads with kabuki masks who were giving the camera a good bit of face-time and a small mass of people all collectively losing their minds, certainly peaked my interest. Also, I couldn't help but see a bit of a resemblance to the Psychos from the BORDERLANDS video game franchise, a favorite of mine. Needless to say, my interest was plenty piqued.
So, I didn't expect the night to go as it did. I mean, clearly this band was bound to be... interesting. Their photo on the concert's Facebook page, a motley collection of shirtless lads with kabuki masks who were giving the camera a good bit of face-time and a small mass of people all collectively losing their minds, certainly peaked my interest. Also, I couldn't help but see a bit of a resemblance to the Psychos from the BORDERLANDS video game franchise, a favorite of mine. Needless to say, my interest was plenty piqued.
For those of you unfortunate enough to not live near The Thirsty Hippo, it's a place made of two spaces. The front area is a cozy area adorned with several places to sit and enjoy their fantastic burgers, sandwiches, salads, and deserts. Along with this comes a good assortment of beers, liquors, and cocktails. Nestled in the corner is a somewhat small stage, though I should say "small", as this is when compared to the stage in the larger area in the back. This larger area is much like the front...except there are no tables and there's a massive mural on the wall of different aspects of the state of Mississippi. So, basically nothing like it, save for the dim lighting in both areas. Now, Daikaiju played in the front area. This will become readily apparent as to why this location choice made for a much more interesting show.
I have an unfortunate confession to make: I don't remember who opened for the band or even if there even was an opener. I would wager a guess, but I don't want to unintentionally offend any number of bands who may stumble upon this. So, we'll mention the headliners in question.
As I hoped, they appeared just as their picture suggested. Five shirtless, Kabuki-masked fellas got onstage, not saying a word. The crowd gathered closer and had grown to a pretty decent size, filling much of the small-ish room. People were clearly excited, some apparently following the band around on tour. Elbow to elbow, we all awaited their first notes. When they began, they hit the ground running (and how else would a band like this begin?). Their sound a sort-of "surf punk" filtered through a touch of "post rock" affectations, with all of the energy of a "hardcore" show. So, essentially, everything I could want and more, with a circle-pit and everything.
They grew more animated over time, with the two guitarists eventually beginning to prowl through the audience, all the while their guitar chords dragging behind them. I suppose they just assumed the audience would trip over them, or maybe they just didn't care. I saw the wilder looking one occasionally take a beer bottle from some people, sling around what little beer was left in said bottle in the air (raining beer on everyone in the area), then handing back said bottle. Then he came to me, letting me get a good look at (and smell of) him: he had a long salt-and-pepper colored beard, and hair that followed suit...except for on the top of his head; he had apparently stripped down to a sort of loin-cloth; he smelled fairly rancid. Rock-Man (that's his name, I later discovered) looked at my empty bottle, then at me, and we both shrugged. A few minutes later, he came back by, looked at my still empty bottle, then took it from me and threw it to the floor.
Not long after this, a sort of tribal beat began on the drums as they were both crowdsurfed, piece by piece, to the middle of the floor. The guitarists and bassist followed suit. So, in this new configuration, the two drummers were set up in front of me, Rock-Man was standing in a chair to my right, Secret-Man (the other guitarist) was standing on the bar on the other side of the drummers, and Pulse-Man (the bassist) was standing on a chair to my forward left. The concert had taken on a new intensity. Secret-Man began a solo, then jumped into the audience while playing. He was crowd surfing and continuing his solo when the owner of the Thirsty Hippo jumped in (literally) as well, also surfing the crowd.
All at once, Blast-Man (the drummer) apperated a bottle of lighter fluid and doused both drumsets in a rather healthy amount. Then, flames. Both drummers (I don't know what the other drummer was called, so I'll call him Other-Man) were now playing flaming kits. Rock-Man apparently liked this idea so much that he also decided to light his guitar on fire, then proceeded to hand said flaming guitar to one of the audience members beside me, then danced around for a bit.
Then, using a series of head gestures and lots of pointing, Blast-Man instructed people to lift up each part of his drum set into the air. So we did, a different person holding a different part, all while some of us held up the chair in which Blast-Man stood. He played like this for a bit, managing to stay on tempo and maintaining that energy, before he decided that this clearly wasn't interesting enough. So, he grabbed hold of one of the rafters over his head, swung up onto it, then hung off it like a monkey and started playing while upside down. By this point, the audience had become a bit frenzied, both energized and amazed by what we were all seeing. A couple of smaller mosh pits had sprung up.
Not long after this, the concert reached its endpoint. After a rather furious closer, there was one massive disharmonious chord that rang out. Each band member then handed off a different instrument to different audience members, apparently letting them play as the band just walked away, presumably out of the building and around to the back. The chord rang and rang, then the plain-clothes version of the band came out and packed everything up. The lights brightened and we all sort of collectively came to. Each and every person got leagues more than there money's worth that night, with people laughing and embracing, and being so absurdly alive in the couple of hours we had all just spent together. This was definitely one of my favorite concerts.
Mini Reviews: FANTASTIC FOUR (2015) and THE FINAL GIRLS
I want to think that the troubles FANTASTIC FOUR had behind the scenes are to blame for the film that we ended up with. Ultimately, I don't think the film is all bad, just the last act. It seems that that three-fourths of the film wants to be straight-forward sci-fi involving the joy of scientific discovery, while also having complex relationships interwoven with the main players. Then, these relationships would be further complicated when the inevitable accident occurs which bestows fantastic abilities upon said characters. So, within the resolution, the different threads are resolved while the undercurrent of the joy of scientific discovery remained.
At least, that's where I thought it may have been going (and, to be honest, that suggestion was fairly unpolished). Instead, all of these different points were set up with no real resolution. The movies stumbles into a "superhero" ending that is completely unearned by what came before. Every major character point is buried under this, seemingly in an attempt to give the fans who were vocal about their resentment with the film the ending they wanted. What that ended up accomplishing was making a film with all the possibility of being an interesting piece of "gee-wiz" sci-fi adventure cinema into a slog of a film with superheroics tacked on the end. It's all a bit depressing.
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In recent years, horror has seen a sort of resurgence with an eye for appreciation for the aesthetics and craft of what came before. THE FINAL GIRLS continues that trend, and manages to make a larger comment on the power of cinema. It even leans itself into the same space as CABIN IN THE WOODS and SCREAM with its awareness and deconstructions of the tropes of the "slasher" sub-genre of horror as well as thoughtful gags involving the very structure of cinema.
This is accompanied by some outstandingly dynamic camera work that seems to come from the Sam Rami school of cinematography, but isn't a mere imitation. It takes the elements he worked with and expands on them, the camera sometimes whipping side to side with a blur, or twisting and looping over itself and moving through a room on each character and their reactions. Overall, though the beginning is a bit clumsy as it never really finds its footing until about fifteen to twenty minutes in, this film is something I can recognize as yet another brilliant work out of this new breed of horror directors.
At least, that's where I thought it may have been going (and, to be honest, that suggestion was fairly unpolished). Instead, all of these different points were set up with no real resolution. The movies stumbles into a "superhero" ending that is completely unearned by what came before. Every major character point is buried under this, seemingly in an attempt to give the fans who were vocal about their resentment with the film the ending they wanted. What that ended up accomplishing was making a film with all the possibility of being an interesting piece of "gee-wiz" sci-fi adventure cinema into a slog of a film with superheroics tacked on the end. It's all a bit depressing.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In recent years, horror has seen a sort of resurgence with an eye for appreciation for the aesthetics and craft of what came before. THE FINAL GIRLS continues that trend, and manages to make a larger comment on the power of cinema. It even leans itself into the same space as CABIN IN THE WOODS and SCREAM with its awareness and deconstructions of the tropes of the "slasher" sub-genre of horror as well as thoughtful gags involving the very structure of cinema.
This is accompanied by some outstandingly dynamic camera work that seems to come from the Sam Rami school of cinematography, but isn't a mere imitation. It takes the elements he worked with and expands on them, the camera sometimes whipping side to side with a blur, or twisting and looping over itself and moving through a room on each character and their reactions. Overall, though the beginning is a bit clumsy as it never really finds its footing until about fifteen to twenty minutes in, this film is something I can recognize as yet another brilliant work out of this new breed of horror directors.
Thursday, January 14, 2016
On the Starkiller Base and the Emulation of Iconography
Spoilers for THE FORCE AWAKENS lie ahead
All art, ultimately, contains some aspect of emulation. We seek to create new forms of things we've already seen, whether it be musical call backs to songs we've heard, or interpretive dance referencing animal movement. Film also contains much of this, with many filmmakers creating homages to films that impacted them over their lives or just appealed to them aesthetically. With regards to STAR WARS, this points outwards towards other films, as well as inwards towards itself. George Lucas has often stated his influences for STAR WARS and explained his implementation of those things. While they make direct references to their original works, ultimately he re-contextualizes those things so that they work organically with the story he wanted to tell. With regards to pointing to itself, he had various elements present in all of the films ("I've got a bad feeling about this", "May the Force be with you") , and even those things work well in the moments they exist, not merely serving as call-backs to earlier films, but wholly organic lines.
In my review of THE FORCE AWAKENS, I mention that the weakest part of the film was its insistence on calling back without finding an organic way to integrate those older elements into the whole. The largest instance of this, in every sense of the word, was the Starkiller base. The more obvious reason for its existence in the film is as a call-back to the Death Star from the OT. Then one could factor in that it serves to suggest that the First Order has such incredible arrogance (or such a short memory) that they are willing to build something that has, essentially, been destroyed twice before by a (comparatively) ragtag bunch of rebels. I don't think these reasons really tread water, though.
Now, I will begrudgingly concede that the destruction to the small village could be seen as a sort of character motivation for destroying the Starkiller Base, but I mostly lean away from that due to the fact that, besides the basic empathy one would feel at seeing the horror of people being killed, there wasn't much motivation built from that. It's not as though we followed Poe Dameron's character throughout the majority of the film, seeing his character develop and experience the events of the film. He's in, then out for most of it, then back for a bit before disappearing again, only to strike the final blow at the end. Oscar Isaac does a great job with the character, but there isn't much on the page for him.
"Well, what of Finn?" you may ask. "He was there and he certainly had motivations for wanting to stop the Empire." Again, I know he was present at the massacre at the beginning of the film, but how does his character ultimately resolve? He engages Kylo Ren at the end of the film and is seriously wounded and then knocked unconscious. That doesn't necessitate the Starkiller's existence.It doesn't hinder his journey in any way. Again, John Boyega does a killer job as Finn, and his performance is all sorts of silly, endearing, and somewhat poignant, but what's on the page is a bit flat.
The point here is that there is no major character reason for destroying the Starkiller. Luke had all the reason in the world to do so with the Death Star, though. For one, it was the major symbol of the Empire's power. Not only could they oppress you, but if you stepped out of line they would simply destroy your planet (which they demonstrated by destroying the planet of Alderaan). Secondly, this same Empire killed all the family he knew. Aunt Beru, Uncle Owen, and Obi Wan Kenobi were all killed by these people, arguably destroying Luke's life. Even more, while on route to Alderaan, Luke saw the debris from its destruction, and he knew that millions upon millions of people were killed. So, for him, destroying the Death Star carried all sorts of weight. It was ultimately a powerfully cathartic moment for him, and was a through-line for the whole film. This goes further, though. The Death Star was a major motivator for Leia, as Alderaan was her home.
"Wait just a moment. Starkiller was going to destroy the base of the Resistance. So, that's a pretty important reason to run off and destroy it!" you may exclaim. Yes, well, there's a problem there. See, by that point the movie had already told us that the First Order wanted the map to Luke that was contained inside of BB-8. Even more, they knew BB-8 was with the Resistance. So, they were going to destroy the planet that held the thing they were looking for. They would end up destroying the very thing needed to prevent the return of Luke, one of the few people who could really do something to the First Order. That certainly seems extraordinarily stupid.
Literally every event that occurs on the Starkiller base didn't need to happen on the Starkiller. The fact that the Starkiller looks surprisingly Hoth-like meant that it could have been any random snowy planet or area with a large military instillation. The star system that is destroyed isn't even a destination any of the characters travel to. Yes, it's important to the Resistance, but by not tying any character motivations to it (as in they have to travel there for some information important to the story) it is stripped of any major dramatic impact it may have.
When it comes right down to it, the Starkiller base is like a tumor for THE FORCE AWAKENS. It points to the cancer that lies within the heart of the film's story: over-reliance on iconography rather than effectively using character motivations for drama. There's nothing wrong with looking back and giving thematic nods to what came before, but when it seems that the film is relying upon ONLY that, there's a big problem.
All art, ultimately, contains some aspect of emulation. We seek to create new forms of things we've already seen, whether it be musical call backs to songs we've heard, or interpretive dance referencing animal movement. Film also contains much of this, with many filmmakers creating homages to films that impacted them over their lives or just appealed to them aesthetically. With regards to STAR WARS, this points outwards towards other films, as well as inwards towards itself. George Lucas has often stated his influences for STAR WARS and explained his implementation of those things. While they make direct references to their original works, ultimately he re-contextualizes those things so that they work organically with the story he wanted to tell. With regards to pointing to itself, he had various elements present in all of the films ("I've got a bad feeling about this", "May the Force be with you") , and even those things work well in the moments they exist, not merely serving as call-backs to earlier films, but wholly organic lines.
In my review of THE FORCE AWAKENS, I mention that the weakest part of the film was its insistence on calling back without finding an organic way to integrate those older elements into the whole. The largest instance of this, in every sense of the word, was the Starkiller base. The more obvious reason for its existence in the film is as a call-back to the Death Star from the OT. Then one could factor in that it serves to suggest that the First Order has such incredible arrogance (or such a short memory) that they are willing to build something that has, essentially, been destroyed twice before by a (comparatively) ragtag bunch of rebels. I don't think these reasons really tread water, though.
Now, I will begrudgingly concede that the destruction to the small village could be seen as a sort of character motivation for destroying the Starkiller Base, but I mostly lean away from that due to the fact that, besides the basic empathy one would feel at seeing the horror of people being killed, there wasn't much motivation built from that. It's not as though we followed Poe Dameron's character throughout the majority of the film, seeing his character develop and experience the events of the film. He's in, then out for most of it, then back for a bit before disappearing again, only to strike the final blow at the end. Oscar Isaac does a great job with the character, but there isn't much on the page for him.
"Well, what of Finn?" you may ask. "He was there and he certainly had motivations for wanting to stop the Empire." Again, I know he was present at the massacre at the beginning of the film, but how does his character ultimately resolve? He engages Kylo Ren at the end of the film and is seriously wounded and then knocked unconscious. That doesn't necessitate the Starkiller's existence.It doesn't hinder his journey in any way. Again, John Boyega does a killer job as Finn, and his performance is all sorts of silly, endearing, and somewhat poignant, but what's on the page is a bit flat.
The point here is that there is no major character reason for destroying the Starkiller. Luke had all the reason in the world to do so with the Death Star, though. For one, it was the major symbol of the Empire's power. Not only could they oppress you, but if you stepped out of line they would simply destroy your planet (which they demonstrated by destroying the planet of Alderaan). Secondly, this same Empire killed all the family he knew. Aunt Beru, Uncle Owen, and Obi Wan Kenobi were all killed by these people, arguably destroying Luke's life. Even more, while on route to Alderaan, Luke saw the debris from its destruction, and he knew that millions upon millions of people were killed. So, for him, destroying the Death Star carried all sorts of weight. It was ultimately a powerfully cathartic moment for him, and was a through-line for the whole film. This goes further, though. The Death Star was a major motivator for Leia, as Alderaan was her home.
"Wait just a moment. Starkiller was going to destroy the base of the Resistance. So, that's a pretty important reason to run off and destroy it!" you may exclaim. Yes, well, there's a problem there. See, by that point the movie had already told us that the First Order wanted the map to Luke that was contained inside of BB-8. Even more, they knew BB-8 was with the Resistance. So, they were going to destroy the planet that held the thing they were looking for. They would end up destroying the very thing needed to prevent the return of Luke, one of the few people who could really do something to the First Order. That certainly seems extraordinarily stupid.
Literally every event that occurs on the Starkiller base didn't need to happen on the Starkiller. The fact that the Starkiller looks surprisingly Hoth-like meant that it could have been any random snowy planet or area with a large military instillation. The star system that is destroyed isn't even a destination any of the characters travel to. Yes, it's important to the Resistance, but by not tying any character motivations to it (as in they have to travel there for some information important to the story) it is stripped of any major dramatic impact it may have.
When it comes right down to it, the Starkiller base is like a tumor for THE FORCE AWAKENS. It points to the cancer that lies within the heart of the film's story: over-reliance on iconography rather than effectively using character motivations for drama. There's nothing wrong with looking back and giving thematic nods to what came before, but when it seems that the film is relying upon ONLY that, there's a big problem.
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