MOVIES NOW AND THEN

I wish I could say I saw all of the movies featured in that trailer. School, alas, prevented me from doing so, but at least I did squeeze some good ones into my schedule. Here, in order of when I saw them, are the movies I watched at the 49th New York Film Festival.

Melancholia – R
Lars von Trier writes and directs this eerie story about the end of two worlds. The first collapse is an intangible one, of a bride (a moving Kirsten Dunst) losing her mind over the course of a disastrous wedding reception. The second and better half shows the bride, her sister (a wonderful Charlotte Gainsbourg) and her brother-in-law (a potent Kiefer Sutherland) witnessing the imminent collision of Earth with the planet Melancholia, brought to life through simple yet entrancing special effects. The uniformly superb cast successfully maintains von Trier’s sad and gloomy tone even in the film’s more jovial moments. From its artful opening montage to its beautifully terrifying final shot, Melancholia works very well as both science fiction and as a personal drama.
This review was originally published by The Fordham Observer.

A Separation – PG-13
When an Iranian couple (Peyman Moadi and Leila Hatami) divorces, the husband hires a woman (Sareh Bayat) to help care for his father (Ali-Asghar Shahbazi), who is stricken with Alzheimer’s. A terrible incident sparks an endless parade of accusations and revelations that turns employee against employer, spouses against spouses and children against parents. Asghar Farhadi’s deeply involving drama withholds many details in this affair to let each viewer debate the facts long after the movie ends. This film is subtly tense, deftly puzzling and tenderly human, creating an impartial mystery in which even characters who do not appear deserving of sympathy earn it.

Miss Bala – R
Gerado Naranjo has fashioned a genuinely exciting action film about a beauty pageant contestant who is forced into the world of Mexican drug trafficking. Every single scene is told from her perspective, which works thanks to Stephanie Sigman’s appealing performance. Naranjo uses long takes throughout the film to build an impressive amount of suspense. One major shortcoming is the escalating sexual advances the gang leader (Miguel Couturier) makes on the girl. These scenes are distracting and somewhat plodding, adding little to her already humiliating situation. The film is much more stirring when it focuses on the girl acting alone as hostage and forced accomplice.

My Week with Marilyn – R
Simon Curtis’s My Week with Marilyn is a biopic whose adoration for its subject, Marilyn Monroe, is so strong it renders the film a little insufferable. Set during the production of The Prince and the Showgirl (1957), it has so many moments that exclaim, “Wow, what a beautiful and tragic star she was” that there are too few introspective scenes. Michelle Williams gives a fine performance as Monroe, but the real treat is Kenneth Branagh’s highly entertaining take on Sir Lawrence Olivier. The actors are good enough to warrant a slight recommendation, but if you want a real tribute to Monroe’s talents, just watch Some Like It Hot (1959) if you haven’t seen it before (or lately).

Goodbye First Love – NR
Mia Hansen-Løve’s story of a young French girl’s loss of her first love and how she moves on with a new one is the only movie I saw this year that I would unreservedly say is bad. It is full of dull, mopey characters whose self-centered demeanors failed to earn any of my sympathy; I suppose it may have been Hansen-Løve’s point to paint a picture of how childish first love can be, but painting a picture so thoroughly sullen does not build solid interest. As I watched the movie, there were times when I would much rather have followed the horses in the background than spend any more energy focusing on the drab humans.

The Descendants – R
In Alexander Payne’s first film since Sideways (2004), George Clooney plays a father who must reconcile with his family after his wife goes comatose in a boating accident. This is Clooney’s best performance since Michael Clayton (2007), mixing frustration and heartbreak with a despairing hope that things will get better. The rest of the movie does not match up, for it fails to integrate drama and comedy into a cohesive whole. While the comedy in Sideways is an extension of the drama, the jokes in The Descendants feel more like bald, inorganic relief from the surrounding sadness. The overall film is competent yet uneven, but Clooney makes it absolutely worth seeing.

Lech Majewski’s The Mill and the Cross is a good movie that falls aggravatingly short of excellence. The film, which opens at Film Forum on Sept. 14, shows us riveting visuals as it ponders the source of artistic inspiration. Two recurring and vexing flaws spoil the atmosphere and ultimately hinder what should have been a lovely piece of work.

Terrence Malik’s The Tree of Life has been by far the most difficult movie for me to review. I did not have much trouble understanding it, but it has taken tremendous effort for me to describe and interpret the film. Even now, I’m unsure if I am properly relaying the sheer artistry of Malik’s latest endeavor. I can only suggest in broad strokes what I hope you will discover yourself and say the film’s mysterious images, meditative pace and celestial themes make it one of the most enthralling motion picture experiences in recent years.

Last Saturday was the graduation for my old high school’s class of 2011. My graduation was three years ago, and I can’t help but think a little bit about what senior year was like. In many ways, it was just business as usual; finishing my studies, writing for the school newspaper and acting in school plays took up most of my time. However, there was a certain trepidation that came and went in my free time. I asked myself whether I could handle living alone and would my attractive metropolitan destination be anything like the cozy home and people I had taken for granted. I’d bet every impending graduate feels that way, though I’m equally sure not many of them would care to admit it.

127 Hours – R

James Franco gives a captivating performance in 127 Hours, Danny Boyle’s inspiring, if possibly incomplete, film about adventurer Aron Ralston. Ralston’s hand was pinned under a rock when exploring a canyon, and he was stuck for five days until he severed his own arm. The film adds a lot of touches to keep the scenes of the trapped Ralston from growing tedious. We see unusual point-of-view shots from places like Ralston’s water bottle as fluid is sucked out and his camera as it rewinds his video. It also intercuts Ralston’s physical endurance with his flashbacks and hallucinations, which call to mind Dalton Trumbo’s novel Johnny Got His Gun (another amputee story, but a much less hopeful one).

Now that the fall semester and holidays are over, I can catch up on a few Oscar contenders that I’ve been too busy to see immediately.

Black Swan


Darren Aronofsky’s intense and dark fantasy follows Nina (Natalie Portman), an "aging" ballerina (mid-to-late twenties, but old enough to feel she needs bigger roles now) for whom the pressure of starring in Swan Lake initiates a chain of paranoia, sexuality, physical torture and overdue freedom. Portman is brilliant as both a girl who has taken too long to grow up and, in Nina's hallucinations, a carnal savage that wants to escape. She is surrounded (and her character oppressed) by a very good supporting cast, which includes a candid Mila Kunis as a rival dancer, an eerie Barbara Hershey as Nina's mother and an imposing Vincent Cassel as the ballet's director. His character is what Boris Lermontov (the impresario Anton Wolbrook played in the 1948 classic The Red Shoes) would be like if he had a libido.

Have you ever had to perform a long and seemingly pointless task and realized there is still more to do after the job is done? Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1, the penultimate installment in the fantasy movie franchise, is slightly similar to that. There is nothing in this movie that will compel audiences to skip the final film next July. Still, it tends to feel sluggish thanks to the meandering plot and interrupted tone.

My first big assignment for the Fordham Observer this semester is to cover the New York Film Festival. I think it is with this task that I may get my most substantial learning experience since I decided to become a critic. I have already met a couple of writers who have given me valuable advice that I know will aid me in the future. If nothing else, at least I'm finally seeing and reviewing movies for free!

I could not attend nearly all the press screenings because of my school schedule, but here are the ones I did see in order of public exhibition date. This slate will be updated as I see more movies. Trailers and clips are provided for the movies that have them available.


The Social Network (PG-13)


Anytime a new technology is invented or an old one is reformed, there is bound to be somebody who asks if the change is necessary. I expect many will ask that question when they leave The Social Network, David Fincher's terrific dramatization of the creation of Facebook. They won’t be pondering so much about their relationship with the website as they will about the impact it has on the characters. As written by Aaron Sorkin and played by a remarkable ensemble of rising stars, the young entrepreneurs are personable figures whose lives are damaged by their unpredictably successful product.

Sylvester Stallone’s new action movie about a band of mercenary good guys is as brawny, loud and rapid as the advertisements have indicated. What I did not expect is how much of a boring checklist this movie is.

This is a typical dumb action movie in that its script (by Dave Callaham and Stallone) contains insipid dialogue and a plot only meant to bridge the numerous fight scenes. The screenplay takes a further step towards mediocrity by not even bothering to exploit the clichés it uses. Familiar plot threads like Stallone’s troubled past and Jason Statham’s conflict between work and love are mentioned minimally and dropped for good when no longer useful. They add almost nothing to the plot and only seem to be there due to action movie regulations. It feels like Stallone was just obligated to give the action a context and was not really interested in creating potentially likable characters.

The Expendables relies on the chemistry of its seasoned action stars to fill in for story and personality. The actors succeed moderately at making the movie worth watching, but the plot favors Stallone and Statham so much that the others have little opportunity to prove their usefulness (I honestly cannot remember a thing Randy Couture does in combat). Of course, how can you tell what any of them are doing with the movie’s dizzying editing and cinematography (seriously, the movie looks like its camera was fastened onto a housefly)? When the camera does sit still, The Expendables features some nifty moments that show how much fun it could have been. Regrettably, Stallone’s slapdash style leaves the rest of the movie flavorless and dreadfully routine.

Most action movies are episodic to varying degrees, but Salt particularly feels like multiple pieces with little connection between them. Angelina Jolie plays Evelyn Salt, a CIA operative on the run when a Russian defector claims she is a Russian mole sent to trigger another nuclear war. The first 40 minutes build this movie as a wrongful accusation story, like The Fugitive. It shows Salt improvising her way out of the CIA base in a fun, if far-fetched, set of sequences. The movie also includes a couple moments where Salt takes a breath or assesses the situation, clearly intending to build sympathy for her. This fretful atmosphere is ruined by jarring plot twists that occur around the halfway mark. From that point, the movie sloppily throws in scene after scene of Salt doing various tasks, aiming to make us question whether she is on the American side or the Russian side.

Salt does such a clumsy job establishing its title character that the mystery of her loyalty feels completely improvisational. There is almost no foreshadowing prior to each change, and there is usually nothing after the change to suggest another one is coming. Much of this is a timing issue. For example, the first details of the Russian terrorist plan appear at the same time that the accusation towards Salt does, and both events happen in the first 15 minutes. We have no time to meet Salt and to percept clues in her personality that may suggest a shadier dimension. Therefore, when she does seem to act on behalf of Russia, it feels like a sudden about-face rather than the validation of our suspicion. Salt would work better if it took the time to build the character’s mystery. Instead, it makes her alternate two roles back and forth in a choppy and indecisive fashion.

Christopher Nolan's cerebral science-fiction thriller Inception is an absolute dream by two accounts. First, it is a godsend to every mainstream movie fan deprived of anything truly involving this summer (aside from Toy Story 3). Second, it mirrors our subconscious apparitions by being an entrancing reverie as you watch it and a confounding puzzle when pondered in retrospect. In his first film since the megahit The Dark Knight, Nolan has intricately shaped an adventure more marvelous and mystifying than practically every other movie this year has seen so far.

I must confess that I have missed out on chances to really vent about a remake or recreation of a story I like. The Star Wars prequels began when I was only nine, and my taste in film was not mature enough at the time to see how bad they were. Likewise, I had only seen the original versions of The Karate Kid and A Nightmare on Elm Street once before reviewing the remakes, so my understanding of those movies was informed yet rudimentary. The Last Airbender, director M. Night Shyamalan’s adaptation of the Nickelodeon series Avatar: The Last Airbender, has now granted me an irresistible opportunity. Shyamalan’s movie is such a hollow and anemic version of that superb show that the fan in me cannot wait to tell you how slipshod this product is.

Based on the long-running video game series of the same name, this film is centered on Prince Dastan (Jake Gyllenhaal), whose quest to undo the usurpation of the Persian throne involves a time-reversing dagger. It does not aim to be more than easy escapism, but its frenetic style leaves it less than comprehensible. It presents fight scenes with confusing and rapidly-edited close-ups of weapons and reactions instead of comfortable medium shots of the actors' bodies. How can you savor the fight choreography or the performers’ skill if you cannot discern which character or whose weapon is in the shot? In classic action movies like "The Adventures of Robin Hood" and "The Empire Strikes Back," one can at least focus one who is attacking and why he made that move. "Prince of Persia," however, indulges in technique over clarity to create a marginally understandable spectacle.

Just as frustrating as the action is the story that loosely strings them together. The screenplay follows the example of "Pirates of the Caribbean" (swashbuckling heroes, breathy beauties, magical MacGuffins) with haphazard results. Many and ideas are not carried out to their full potential, and the characters are depicted as incapable of making some rather obvious choices (not once does Dastan wonder if he can travel back to stop the takeover himself). Such inattentive writing may have been forgivable if performed by a more enthusiastic cast, but most of these actors (especially the overly dramatic Gemma Arterton) are just plain boring. To its credit, “Prince of Persia” is afforded some decent special effects and an amusing performance by the always welcome Alfred Molina. Nevertheless, those elements do little to elevate this forgettable, albeit digestible, movie.
 
First published in The Coastland Times

Geneticists Clive (Adrien Brody) and Elsa (Sarah Polley) combine human and animal DNA to create Dren, a marvelous being that becomes too dangerous and intelligent to control. Contrary to the film’s horror-centric marketing campaign, “Splice” is primarily a science-fiction story that offers a parental twist on classic Promethean themes.

The film has a grisly atmosphere from the beginning, but the intended alienation becomes harder to stomach as Dren becomes more predatory. The evolution of Dren from a small computer-animated creature into a formidable humanoid (presented through appropriately disorienting makeup and the naturalistic performances of Abigail Chu and Delphine Chanéac) makes an absorbing first two-thirds. During the last half-hour, the film takes a few distasteful and weirdly sensual turns involving Dren’s maturity and its interaction with Clive and Elsa. Though these events produce a nicely ambiguous ending, their nature is unsettling enough to mar this intriguing film.

"Splice" is most effective when it focuses on the familial aspects of the experiment. The story asks whether certain people, geneticists or ordinary citizens, are unfit to be creators. It is clearly questionable how qualified Clive and Elsa are as scientists (at one point, Clive holds a scalpel in his mouth after making an incision with it), and Elsa's abusive childhood has distorted her judgment on how to raise offspring. Dren demonstrates the consequences of both of those inadequacies. Her mixed genealogy and her oppressive surroundings make her a physical abomination, a psychological riddle and eventually a complete monster. If she were borne of better hands, perhaps she could have become something beautiful.

First published in The Coastland Times